http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ytRuMVAvc08
Plus, I need a pair of those pants...
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Talk to Me
I like this song, and I like this video. A powerful performance. This song was apparently written when he and his teenage daughter were having some communication problems.
Thunderstruck...
So what is better than a V-twin with an AC/DC soundtrack? Lots, but this is cool. Well, to me.
Anger---Why Not Grieve More?
I'm thinking about ANGER. I'm realizing it's my 'go to' emotion, because I'm unable to handle grief and sadness. Grief has in it an element of loss of control, of letting the flood rush over you and not fighting anymore. It admits loss, it feels it deeply. It is not an emotion of denial. Grief does not inflict pain on others. It may drive others away because it may make them feel uncomfortable, but it doesn't scar others.
Anger, as an emotion where grief or sadness belong, ironically, does not avoid loss of control, but pathetically embodies denial. "I will not lose, I will not be wrong, I will not be disrespected!" blah blah blah...It's pitiful and does inflict scars, pain on others. So let's stop being angry, OK?
I mean really...
I asked the Lord that I might grow
In faith and love and every grace
Might more of His salvation know
And seek more earnestly His face
Twas He who taught me thus to pray
And He I trust has answered prayer
But it has been in such a way
As almost drove me to despair
I hoped that in some favored hour
At once He'd answer my request
And by His love's constraining power
Subdue my sins and give me rest
Instead of this He made me feel
The hidden evils of my heart
And let the angry powers of Hell
Assault my soul in every part
Yea more with His own hand
He seemed Intent to aggravate my woe
Crossed all the fair designs I schemed
Cast out my feelings, laid me low
Lord why is this, I trembling cried
Wilt Thou pursue thy worm to death?
"Tis in this way" The Lord replied
"I answer prayer for grace and faith"
“These inward trials I employ
From self and pride to set thee free
And break thy schemes of earthly joy
That thou mayest seek thy all in me
That thou mayest seek thy all in me.”
I Asked the Lord ©2004 double v music (ASCAP). Words: John Newton (alt. Laura Taylor). Music: Laura Taylor.
How can I, as a saint, respond in anger? Forgive me, Lord! And I can't say I'm anywhere near John Newton!
I found myself last week at work, naked in the steam room. Sounds weird? We've got a great fitness center with a steam room. One of the best parts of the work day is being naked, in the steam room! (OK, maybe that's why I can't bring myself to embrace a career change...)
Anyway, here I was, and I began to weep. Pretty hard. Now this doesn't happen a lot. Stoic, European blood runs through my veins. I'd have been a Spartan, but I'd have not survived the training-a brawny man of war I am not. So, each time this happens, immediately, I take note, which usually ruins it as I get analytical, hysterically joyful that it's actually a different emotion, and that tends to ruin it...But I grieved, not really for myself, but for the travail of the world, the struggles and pain, and I prayed-for my children, for my wife, for my friends, for strained relationships, for friends who will go to foreign lands to preach Christ, for our Church, for coworkers, for history unfolding, for eternity, and then it was over. It was God, I know it, meeting me in this.
I know, because usually I become angry when overwhelmed. I face with denial my loss of control, my failure, my grief-except I don't grieve.
So, Lord, cultivate in me a heart that grieves with tears of compassion and love, not a heart that hardens in anger.
Anger, as an emotion where grief or sadness belong, ironically, does not avoid loss of control, but pathetically embodies denial. "I will not lose, I will not be wrong, I will not be disrespected!" blah blah blah...It's pitiful and does inflict scars, pain on others. So let's stop being angry, OK?
I mean really...
I asked the Lord that I might grow
In faith and love and every grace
Might more of His salvation know
And seek more earnestly His face
Twas He who taught me thus to pray
And He I trust has answered prayer
But it has been in such a way
As almost drove me to despair
I hoped that in some favored hour
At once He'd answer my request
And by His love's constraining power
Subdue my sins and give me rest
Instead of this He made me feel
The hidden evils of my heart
And let the angry powers of Hell
Assault my soul in every part
Yea more with His own hand
He seemed Intent to aggravate my woe
Crossed all the fair designs I schemed
Cast out my feelings, laid me low
Lord why is this, I trembling cried
Wilt Thou pursue thy worm to death?
"Tis in this way" The Lord replied
"I answer prayer for grace and faith"
“These inward trials I employ
From self and pride to set thee free
And break thy schemes of earthly joy
That thou mayest seek thy all in me
That thou mayest seek thy all in me.”
I Asked the Lord ©2004 double v music (ASCAP). Words: John Newton (alt. Laura Taylor). Music: Laura Taylor.
How can I, as a saint, respond in anger? Forgive me, Lord! And I can't say I'm anywhere near John Newton!
I found myself last week at work, naked in the steam room. Sounds weird? We've got a great fitness center with a steam room. One of the best parts of the work day is being naked, in the steam room! (OK, maybe that's why I can't bring myself to embrace a career change...)
Anyway, here I was, and I began to weep. Pretty hard. Now this doesn't happen a lot. Stoic, European blood runs through my veins. I'd have been a Spartan, but I'd have not survived the training-a brawny man of war I am not. So, each time this happens, immediately, I take note, which usually ruins it as I get analytical, hysterically joyful that it's actually a different emotion, and that tends to ruin it...But I grieved, not really for myself, but for the travail of the world, the struggles and pain, and I prayed-for my children, for my wife, for my friends, for strained relationships, for friends who will go to foreign lands to preach Christ, for our Church, for coworkers, for history unfolding, for eternity, and then it was over. It was God, I know it, meeting me in this.
I know, because usually I become angry when overwhelmed. I face with denial my loss of control, my failure, my grief-except I don't grieve.
So, Lord, cultivate in me a heart that grieves with tears of compassion and love, not a heart that hardens in anger.
I'm Happy--Death and C.S. Lewis
I'm so saddened by what the Steven Curtis Chapman family is going through. Unfortunately, working as a claims adjuster, one tends to hear this kind of news a little too frequently. When it's someone we know or care about, it hits closer to home, of course, but it doesn't make it any more tragic. Someone's life along with their hopes, dreams and loves is changed forever. Some feel a great loss, some take on a new, incredibly heavy burden for the rest of their lives, and some both. Those on the outside mourn, judge, evaluate, condemn, and probably give thanks that it wasn't them.
And I suppose that is part of the human experience. Before technology, I imagine each village dealt with its own tragedies throughout a lifetime. I imagine that important news would trickle in occasionally-a raid on a nearby town, a fire, a rampaging bullock or something like that. But now we multiply that exponentially, we compress it into soundbites and "headline news". Think about it.
So I struggle with depression and cynicism. "The other shoe's about to drop." If it ain't hit you yet, it's coming. Even better, work in "consider it all joy, my brothers when you encounter trials of every kind". Wow. Is God in this? So we're back to one of the fundamental theological topics anyone with their eyes somewhat open wrestles with- something along the lines of "If God is in control, is He good?" or some variant (Ok, so He's good, but not in control, or He's in control, but not good.)
Well, the assurance from scripture is that God IS good. Sure; rant, rave, scream...I take comfort that "God can handle your bitchin'" as a dear pastor friend once told us. God is good. And I am beginning to slowly believe the ol' cry that what He's really interested in is ME, a relationship with ME.
OK, that is true. But if the ME is in 12 point font, The GOD font is immeasurably larger, and the ME gets swallowed in, consumed in The GOD. I am speaking of font sizes as an illustration of my idea that when we think of God's love and concern for us, which is an incredible thing to dwell upon, we quickly run into the corners of the little box we build to define what that love means. I fail to comprehend, even now, the possibility that God's love for me, for us, for the Church, for the world, is consistent with his sovereign rulings and control of a universe that threatens to destroy us.
There's no answer that we can hang our hat on and be done. There's no way to accept, with peace, the sudden death of a child, the annihilation of a young conscience, the crushing burden of parents dealing with both in their family. We live, as C.S. Lewis says "in that roofless world...where men walk undefended beneath naked heaven." (O.K, purists, probably taken out of context, but it resonates, eh?) So we cry out to God, who is good. We cry out in fear that we are not immune. We cry out for strength to not succumb to the spirit of the age and seek protection in pharmaceuticals, violence, retaliation/revenge, increased vigilance, tighter rules and thereby stifle life. We fight cynicism, anger, resignations. We cry out for courage to face each day, not knowing what it will bring, but having a hope outside of what we see and feel, and yet finally not apart from it.
When I read C.S. Lewis, I am less afraid of 'crossing the veil', if you will. "Jack" captures this idea of new life but larger, larger and unencumbered by things that mark us as a fallen race now.
In Perelandra, the main character, Ransom, is sent to Venus where he encounters an incredibly sensuous world. Alone, he finally encounters another humanoid.
"Never had Ransom seen a face so calm, and so unearthly, despite the full humanity of every feature. He decided afterwards that the unearthly quality was due to the complete absence of that element of resignation which mixes, in however slight a degree, with all profound stillness in terrestrial faces."
So, I think about this resignation as part of our terrestrial faces. We all share this. None knows the complete absence of resignation and the fear and trepidation about external circumstances beyond their control, except perhaps a child. Hmmm, I'm called to be childlike. Which means letting go, and My God, is that hard. Letting go of the hold on how things 'should be' in order for me to be happy. Letting go of comfort and what I find my identity in...
And so, I look at life and try to determine if I am truly happy. And you know, I am. I really am. In some ways that happiness stands on a razor's edge, tenuous in its certainty--the wind could change in a minute. So the the shoe waits to drop. I deal with resignation, with fear, with worry, with anxiety...
In other ways that happiness is secure beyond fear. There is a place, a destination where fear, pain, tears, and even resignation, will be gone forever. "How strange" we will think when confronted with the extent to which those passing things or forces or emotions (I'm not sure what I'd really call them) ruled our lives and then will have NO power whatsoever. And I really have no idea. Every hope of heaven, every dream of fullness, of seeing Jesus clearly and praising Him "as I ought" is today flawed in some way by the organic disease that is sin, that blinds the eyes. Sometimes something lets you see through that a little more clearly, a 'sign of the Kingdom' here and coming. C.S. Lewis's stuff tends to do that for me.
OK. I don't blog often enough. I'm not sure where I started and I'm not sure where I'm going. I may have already said some of this in an earlier blog. Later!
And I suppose that is part of the human experience. Before technology, I imagine each village dealt with its own tragedies throughout a lifetime. I imagine that important news would trickle in occasionally-a raid on a nearby town, a fire, a rampaging bullock or something like that. But now we multiply that exponentially, we compress it into soundbites and "headline news". Think about it.
So I struggle with depression and cynicism. "The other shoe's about to drop." If it ain't hit you yet, it's coming. Even better, work in "consider it all joy, my brothers when you encounter trials of every kind". Wow. Is God in this? So we're back to one of the fundamental theological topics anyone with their eyes somewhat open wrestles with- something along the lines of "If God is in control, is He good?" or some variant (Ok, so He's good, but not in control, or He's in control, but not good.)
Well, the assurance from scripture is that God IS good. Sure; rant, rave, scream...I take comfort that "God can handle your bitchin'" as a dear pastor friend once told us. God is good. And I am beginning to slowly believe the ol' cry that what He's really interested in is ME, a relationship with ME.
OK, that is true. But if the ME is in 12 point font, The GOD font is immeasurably larger, and the ME gets swallowed in, consumed in The GOD. I am speaking of font sizes as an illustration of my idea that when we think of God's love and concern for us, which is an incredible thing to dwell upon, we quickly run into the corners of the little box we build to define what that love means. I fail to comprehend, even now, the possibility that God's love for me, for us, for the Church, for the world, is consistent with his sovereign rulings and control of a universe that threatens to destroy us.
There's no answer that we can hang our hat on and be done. There's no way to accept, with peace, the sudden death of a child, the annihilation of a young conscience, the crushing burden of parents dealing with both in their family. We live, as C.S. Lewis says "in that roofless world...where men walk undefended beneath naked heaven." (O.K, purists, probably taken out of context, but it resonates, eh?) So we cry out to God, who is good. We cry out in fear that we are not immune. We cry out for strength to not succumb to the spirit of the age and seek protection in pharmaceuticals, violence, retaliation/revenge, increased vigilance, tighter rules and thereby stifle life. We fight cynicism, anger, resignations. We cry out for courage to face each day, not knowing what it will bring, but having a hope outside of what we see and feel, and yet finally not apart from it.
When I read C.S. Lewis, I am less afraid of 'crossing the veil', if you will. "Jack" captures this idea of new life but larger, larger and unencumbered by things that mark us as a fallen race now.
In Perelandra, the main character, Ransom, is sent to Venus where he encounters an incredibly sensuous world. Alone, he finally encounters another humanoid.
"Never had Ransom seen a face so calm, and so unearthly, despite the full humanity of every feature. He decided afterwards that the unearthly quality was due to the complete absence of that element of resignation which mixes, in however slight a degree, with all profound stillness in terrestrial faces."
So, I think about this resignation as part of our terrestrial faces. We all share this. None knows the complete absence of resignation and the fear and trepidation about external circumstances beyond their control, except perhaps a child. Hmmm, I'm called to be childlike. Which means letting go, and My God, is that hard. Letting go of the hold on how things 'should be' in order for me to be happy. Letting go of comfort and what I find my identity in...
And so, I look at life and try to determine if I am truly happy. And you know, I am. I really am. In some ways that happiness stands on a razor's edge, tenuous in its certainty--the wind could change in a minute. So the the shoe waits to drop. I deal with resignation, with fear, with worry, with anxiety...
In other ways that happiness is secure beyond fear. There is a place, a destination where fear, pain, tears, and even resignation, will be gone forever. "How strange" we will think when confronted with the extent to which those passing things or forces or emotions (I'm not sure what I'd really call them) ruled our lives and then will have NO power whatsoever. And I really have no idea. Every hope of heaven, every dream of fullness, of seeing Jesus clearly and praising Him "as I ought" is today flawed in some way by the organic disease that is sin, that blinds the eyes. Sometimes something lets you see through that a little more clearly, a 'sign of the Kingdom' here and coming. C.S. Lewis's stuff tends to do that for me.
OK. I don't blog often enough. I'm not sure where I started and I'm not sure where I'm going. I may have already said some of this in an earlier blog. Later!
Monday, May 5, 2008
My oldest child turned fourteen this weekend. We spent the day in the woods. Camping. Amazing. I'm proud of that young woman. She is a joy. I like to hear her laugh. I hope the beauty of the views, the smell of the air, the total experience of this trip into Shenandoah National Park will be used by God to imprint eternity in us all.
I believe it is true. I believe that this Kingdom that God is building is near, inside, all around us. I catch a glimpse, a hint...and it is gone. I hunger for more. And here's where the dilemma appears--here is where it begins to fall apart: I become angry when I miss it, when something distracts from it. It's like smelling delicious food in the air and the wind changes direction and it's gone.
The sensation, the feelings-these are not the measuring rod or the markers. The 'down payment' is the Spirit.
We listened to "Prince Caspian" read by Lynne Redgrave on our drive to the Blue Ridge and back. Amazing. I already fear that Andrew Adamson and WETA will not do this story justice...won't be able to. There'll be a tension and a good story, but the depth, I think will be hard to capture. So, I'm setting my expectations very low.
No one that I've read in my limited browsings captures this idea of the Kingdom come and coming, the idea of redemption and heaven quite like C.S. Lewis, for me at least. He's accessible in that way. I read "The Last Battle" and the doctrinal claim that this life is merely the beginning makes some sense.
Is God THAT good? Is the Gospel that true? That here I sit, musing, thinking my little thoughts, and somehow God is working His perfect will, gonna bring it all together, gonna make it all work out? That in spite of my fears, weakness, pride, vanity, cowardice, hypocrisy, pride, fear, guilt, fear, and fear, something good is gonna come of it? That would be something! I can't wait to see it, but even more, I want to live like it is true. I want to live like it is true. I want to live like it is true.
So what does that look like?
How does it work?
How can I be sure I'm right and don't screw it up?
Hah! Much like the change in the wind that takes away the enticing scent, so do opaque 'things' blot out the vision and hope. Constant warring on this front, and the pendulum of emotion swings from deliriously deep and hopeful joy to morose despair. A yawning 'chasm' of doubt, hopelessness, fear, and doubt, and hopelessness. And the station broadcasting the voice of the Accuser comes in loud and clear. HD. Satellite. No static at all (no static at all)....F. M...
Luther. Galatians commentary. "Grace & Peace". Grace is the answer to SIN; peace is God's answer to a noisy conscience.
Watched "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind". This is an amazing film with a lot to say. Well-filmed with a sort of sci-fi feel, kind of Orwellian. Beautifully tragic. And one of my all-time favorite songs, "Everybody's Got To Learn Sometime" was just perfect. Originally done by the Korgis with a cool sitar part, now covered by Beck, also pretty cool. I recall waking up to this song in the cold of a dark winter morning, not wanting to go to school, snuggled under the covers and just wallowing in the achingly beautiful tune, and the ambiguous lyrics. Oh yeah, you can say just about anything if you're ambiguous. I realize I gravitate to that sort of thing. Ambiguousilosophy.
I'd like to say more about this film, but I need to figure out what I should say first.
Today I bought the Little Girls some cleats and shin guards. And a couple of soccer balls. They're supposed to bring a ball to practice. We had a few nice ones. Then the dog got hold of
'em. They came home and rushed out to do some drills, and kick the balls around. It was great to see them do that.
Reminds me of last week. Philip beat me in one-on-one basketball. It was great. Of course I still have bruises from the hacks, but we won't let that deter from what is clearly the beginning of the end for me. Weak, fearful, guilty, fearful, guilty, weak AND AGING...Next I'll go down in arm wrestling, and then what?!
I believe it is true. I believe that this Kingdom that God is building is near, inside, all around us. I catch a glimpse, a hint...and it is gone. I hunger for more. And here's where the dilemma appears--here is where it begins to fall apart: I become angry when I miss it, when something distracts from it. It's like smelling delicious food in the air and the wind changes direction and it's gone.
The sensation, the feelings-these are not the measuring rod or the markers. The 'down payment' is the Spirit.
We listened to "Prince Caspian" read by Lynne Redgrave on our drive to the Blue Ridge and back. Amazing. I already fear that Andrew Adamson and WETA will not do this story justice...won't be able to. There'll be a tension and a good story, but the depth, I think will be hard to capture. So, I'm setting my expectations very low.
No one that I've read in my limited browsings captures this idea of the Kingdom come and coming, the idea of redemption and heaven quite like C.S. Lewis, for me at least. He's accessible in that way. I read "The Last Battle" and the doctrinal claim that this life is merely the beginning makes some sense.
Is God THAT good? Is the Gospel that true? That here I sit, musing, thinking my little thoughts, and somehow God is working His perfect will, gonna bring it all together, gonna make it all work out? That in spite of my fears, weakness, pride, vanity, cowardice, hypocrisy, pride, fear, guilt, fear, and fear, something good is gonna come of it? That would be something! I can't wait to see it, but even more, I want to live like it is true. I want to live like it is true. I want to live like it is true.
So what does that look like?
How does it work?
How can I be sure I'm right and don't screw it up?
Hah! Much like the change in the wind that takes away the enticing scent, so do opaque 'things' blot out the vision and hope. Constant warring on this front, and the pendulum of emotion swings from deliriously deep and hopeful joy to morose despair. A yawning 'chasm' of doubt, hopelessness, fear, and doubt, and hopelessness. And the station broadcasting the voice of the Accuser comes in loud and clear. HD. Satellite. No static at all (no static at all)....F. M...
Luther. Galatians commentary. "Grace & Peace". Grace is the answer to SIN; peace is God's answer to a noisy conscience.
Watched "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind". This is an amazing film with a lot to say. Well-filmed with a sort of sci-fi feel, kind of Orwellian. Beautifully tragic. And one of my all-time favorite songs, "Everybody's Got To Learn Sometime" was just perfect. Originally done by the Korgis with a cool sitar part, now covered by Beck, also pretty cool. I recall waking up to this song in the cold of a dark winter morning, not wanting to go to school, snuggled under the covers and just wallowing in the achingly beautiful tune, and the ambiguous lyrics. Oh yeah, you can say just about anything if you're ambiguous. I realize I gravitate to that sort of thing. Ambiguousilosophy.
I'd like to say more about this film, but I need to figure out what I should say first.
Today I bought the Little Girls some cleats and shin guards. And a couple of soccer balls. They're supposed to bring a ball to practice. We had a few nice ones. Then the dog got hold of
'em. They came home and rushed out to do some drills, and kick the balls around. It was great to see them do that.
Reminds me of last week. Philip beat me in one-on-one basketball. It was great. Of course I still have bruises from the hacks, but we won't let that deter from what is clearly the beginning of the end for me. Weak, fearful, guilty, fearful, guilty, weak AND AGING...Next I'll go down in arm wrestling, and then what?!
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