Some things that confuse me.

Grace
Patience
Kindness
Chivalry

And then she said...

Evil in our lives is like the color black in paintings. Our lives are as a canvas before the Lord, rebels and children alike. He is sovereign, he is good, and he does all things well. The black in our lives was no mistakes, every stroke is a part of the whole.

Some afflictions are caused by our own sins, some are not. Learn to distinguish these well... Because if it is the first, we must repent and learn our lesson lest we have to be taught it again. In either case and all the more in times of joy--wait upon the Lord, sing his praises, fear him--for this the the whole duty of humanity.

In Psalms 33, the psalmist sings a "new song" in the face of death and famine; in suffering that was not due to his sins. In Psalm 40, he again sings a "new song" as he is rescued from the miry bog that is his own unrighteousness. Yet in either cases, Yahweh is the cause of the new song that comes forth from his lips. We are to wait upon our deliverer, for he is faithful, good, and true.

Adoniram and Ann Judson lost their first child, nameless, at sea sailing to Burma as the first missionaries to the heathen land. Their second child, Roger, died at 17 months... When Roger died, Ann wrote,

"Our hearts were bound up with this child; we felt he was our earthly all, our only source of innocent recreation in this heathen land. But God saw it was necessary to remind us of our error, and to strip us of our only little all. O, may it not be vain that he has done it. May we so improve it that he will stay his hand and say 'It is enough.'"

O may I have that kind of faith in God's goodness and sovereignty. May our pains not be in vain and may we so improve for his glory.

But I never quite hear it right away.
I had to learn another painful lesson today.
Thankful your words had first tilled my heart.

sat down and wept

By the rivers dark

I wandered on

I lived my life

in Babylon

and I did forget

my holy song

and I had no strength

in Babylon

by the rivers dark

where I could not see

who was waiting there

who was hunting me

and he cut my lip

and he cut my heart

so I could not drink

from the river dark

and he covered me

and I saw within

my lawless heart

and my wedding ring

I did not know

and I could not see

who was waiting there

who was hunting me

by the rivers dark

I panicked on

I belonged at last

to Babylon

then he struck my heart

with a deadly force

and he said, "This heart

it is not yours."

and he gave the wind

my wedding ring

and he circled me

with everything

by the rivers dark

in a wounded dawn

I live my life

in Babylon

tho' I take my song

from a withered limb

both song and tree

they sing for him

be the truth unsaid

and the blessing gone

if I forget

my Babylon

I did not know

and I could not see

who was waiting there

who was haunting me

by the rivers dark

where it all goes on

by the rivers dark

in Babylon

// "By the Rivers Dark," Leonard Cohen

Advent longings... though it's not quite December.

You've been promised, we've been waiting... where Y'at??!

O You who heal us by wounding us! Who heal us from the madness of
totality, from the pestilence of invulnerability.

-Hans Urs von Balthasar

so wrap our injured flesh around You
breathe our air and walk our sod
rob our sin and make us holy
perfect Son of God


How long??

Were not it for Your hand rending and readying us, we could not soooo deplore this lack and so desire wholeness in that Other Place. For this now very painful and unpleasant grace, I thank You. You will harvest righteousness and peace. You will bring us home. We wait.

Be a part of God's system

"... I’m going to soon reach a breaking point, and I will want to throw everything down..."

Steve's tumblr post reminded me I've been meaning to share this awesome work of my dear friend Rebecca who I miss every day. For their IV-equivalent of Epiphany she and friends parodied Andy Samberg's SNL digital short "On the Ground"

(WES THROWS MATT'S PORN TO THE GROUND)

I was walkin' through the freshman dorm
And a man walks up to me, hands me the latest issue of porn
"More pleasure, your desire"
--MAN, I'm not gonna let you poison me

I threw it on the ground
You must think I like sin!
I ain't gonna be part of that system--
MAN! Pump that garbage in another man's face

(REBECCA THROWS MATT TO THE GROUND)

I go to my favorite SI session
An unbeliever says,
"I think you're mighty fine! You can have me for free..."
I said, "MAN! What I look like? Proverbs 7?"

I took him, and threw him on the GROUND!
--I don't need your temptations!
--I'm a royal priesthood!
Puh-leez. You can't buy me, unclean man!

(WES THROWS REBECCA'S BOOK TO THE GROUND)

At the bio lab with my so-called partner
She hands me her textbook, she says "OMG!"
--MAN, this ain't my God,
This is a TEXTBOOK!

I threw it on the ground!
What, you think I'm STUPID?
Idols ain't part of my system
My God's not a book--DUUH!!

(MATT THROWS PHARISEE-WES TO THE GROUND)

Some poser invites me to a worship party
Where's he at?
I'll check on him. What's this?

Hypocrite to the ground!
I threw the pillow on him, too!
Welcome to the real world, Pharisee!

Rebecca: So many things to throw on the ground
Matt: Like lust, and hate,
Wes: and fear, and even shame
All: I'm a POLISHED ARROW!

(REBECCA CONVERTS MATT & WES)--hits pamphlets out of their hands

Two atheist phonies try to feed me their religion
---GROOOOUUND!---
You can't have na world without God, phonies!

Then the two phonies got up
Turned out they lived in Glaser
And then I whipped out my Bible
Knees to the ground
The phonies didn't get up
I was preachin' bout Jesus over and over

They were repentin' and believin'
Their souls were on fire
The moral of the story is

ALL:

Be a part of God's system

... MAN!!

She's wonderful. :)

A Psalm of Esther

... my psalter's is so damn repetitive. When will I learn?

If I pored over Your word

as over source texts as when assigned an essay
as on semantic reference and definite descriptions ... 

If I denied myself the comforts of physical fill and rest

to mete the urgency of Your kingdom
as to meet looming deadlines for submission, and not That kind, ... 

 If I craved the perfection of my soul

i.e. Your sanctifying work and grace
as I desire perfection in my own efforts ... 

But I see now

Your work, grace.
My work, toil. 

You must affect my affections.
My affections unaided fail to be for You.
I once thought if instead at divinity school,
to meditate on Your precepts constantly
and to call this my highest duty
would be easy. Natural.

By nature?

As if a holier place outside me could mute my sin nature
Like a new nature within to abolish the old.

As if delighting in my studies would be delighting in You.
I shudder that some brilliant theologian might not be known by You.

But I see now, even in such a place
I would inquire into You
not to draw nearer to You
-- Nearness'd be a precipitate at best--
but to satisfy my intellect and delusional hunger for merit.
As if earning favor is sweeter than the unmerited favor that some call grace.

Heart, is He not enough for you?

God, are You not enough for me?

Mercy, LORD.
For though my heart does not -YET!- embrace and communicate this
to my every ac/affec -tion its chief and ultimate end is You.

it must be You. nearness to You
delight in You
Your gracious accepting--saving--approval

You have shown me that my heart is capable of these affections
Only... not after You.

Yet I will hope in the "yets"
For I am Your grace in progress.

But I fear! to ask that You take Your place
that I have usurped vis lesser, idolatrous loves.

I am afraid to enthrone You.
I trust not in Your goodness. Mercy, Father.

Heart! has He not been trustworthy?
Is He not more aweful than your little fears,
does He not store up your sorry tears?
More wonderful than dirty rags,
He is worthy.

Laughter & Khapalbhati (Bikram Asana #26)

Ha ha ha ha ha
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
Ha ha ha ha ha

This plus a lot of sweat is what the last few minutes of each Bikram session with Janice are like.