I feel like its time to admit a simple truth: without even my feeble understanding of grace, I would have exploded tonight. I would have destroyed things that mean so much to me because of my anger and frustration and selfishness. I still might. But I continue to look to Christ this time. If I don't call on him now, then when will I? I don't like to talk about God a whole lot. I don't like to talk about him sitting in my heart, because that's too irrational. I can't explain love. I can't explain why people do the things they do. But I am starting to get a serious hint; that I do understand something.
All of this makes no sense. Now that I can understand that, the logic can again resume. Everyone makes their own decisions, even when it hurts.
What do you say to something that rips your heart out? To something that makes no rational sense? All I can think of is thank you. I guess at the end of everything, good is good because we've been through the bad. A good taste in your mouth is only understood if you've tasted something awful. Love is understood, in all of its awe and intensity, only after leaving yourself exposed and paying for it. Time and time again.
Grace. Makes all of this bearable. Resting in the presence of my creator, and understanding, for the first time, maybe how God may feel when I choose not to love Him. Yet He continues to love me, even though it isn't exactly returned. In the face of everything I'm starting to get this now. Even though I don't even understand why He loves me in the first place.
A tired man on a tired path.
Carries his heart on his sleeve.
He continues to love and to believe,
Even when everything remains to be seen.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Friday, January 9, 2009
Discipline.
I struggled for awhile to write this. I've thought long and hard about this recently, and after seeing Gran Torino tonight, I think it all has come together. Clint Eastwood portrays a man we all know. The grumpy, bitter, old man who remembers "the good old days." The days when you looked a man in the eye, or you gave a firm handshake. The days of old when you treated one another with respect and dignity. I can understand their gripe. In a world of unmade beds and clothing sold to fifteen year old girls that barely cover their private parts, it would seem as if the world had turned in on itself.
In our drive for ease and comfort we have given hard and rigid over to light and fluffy. Strict time schedules are put in the annals of history with text messages apologizing for being fifteen minutes late. Instead of accepting the ways of the world, we bend our own worldview to make things fit to our ideas and whims. We are, in essence, "spoiled rotten."
If there is anything to take from the angry old man whose shirts and slacks are always pressed and the yard is always kept, it would be the ancient idea of discipline. Maybe this seems to be such a dusty subject because of my own life, or possibly our nation at large, but it almost seems like I'm speaking another language. It feels, archaic.
Have some self respect. - Clean your room. Wash your clothes.
Have a backbone. -Spend the day doing yardwork. Sweat a little.
Work for something. - Get a job.
Patience, pride. - Watch something be made with your own two hands.
I understand the frustration now. I think I'm going to fold my clothes and make my bed.
The practical applications of discipline are much greater and expansive than what I have mentioned. Since it's what I always relate back to, let us talk about faith. Do we have discipline in our relationship with Christ? What does it mean to be a disciple? Why do we call the first books of The Bible, the "Law" of Moses? Do's and don'ts. Wills and won'ts.
All of these rules had a purpose once. Although this all may seem abhrasive, let's be critical here. The Bible states very plainly how it feels about murder and theft and adultery. Now, we punish things like, murder, and theft pretty severely. But lust...I'm not hurting anybody, am I? I am enjoying myself, everyone has a right to that, right?
You want to talk about immorality? Or perhaps the images we feed our kids? It starts here. With us bending and breaking these rules that we have been given aeons ago. We were given them for a reason. There were here to guide our lives, and the decisions we made. I feel like it's time someone take responsibility for a life. Maybe I'll accept my own.
I've never felt more conservative in my life.
In our drive for ease and comfort we have given hard and rigid over to light and fluffy. Strict time schedules are put in the annals of history with text messages apologizing for being fifteen minutes late. Instead of accepting the ways of the world, we bend our own worldview to make things fit to our ideas and whims. We are, in essence, "spoiled rotten."
If there is anything to take from the angry old man whose shirts and slacks are always pressed and the yard is always kept, it would be the ancient idea of discipline. Maybe this seems to be such a dusty subject because of my own life, or possibly our nation at large, but it almost seems like I'm speaking another language. It feels, archaic.
Have some self respect. - Clean your room. Wash your clothes.
Have a backbone. -Spend the day doing yardwork. Sweat a little.
Work for something. - Get a job.
Patience, pride. - Watch something be made with your own two hands.
I understand the frustration now. I think I'm going to fold my clothes and make my bed.
The practical applications of discipline are much greater and expansive than what I have mentioned. Since it's what I always relate back to, let us talk about faith. Do we have discipline in our relationship with Christ? What does it mean to be a disciple? Why do we call the first books of The Bible, the "Law" of Moses? Do's and don'ts. Wills and won'ts.
All of these rules had a purpose once. Although this all may seem abhrasive, let's be critical here. The Bible states very plainly how it feels about murder and theft and adultery. Now, we punish things like, murder, and theft pretty severely. But lust...I'm not hurting anybody, am I? I am enjoying myself, everyone has a right to that, right?
You want to talk about immorality? Or perhaps the images we feed our kids? It starts here. With us bending and breaking these rules that we have been given aeons ago. We were given them for a reason. There were here to guide our lives, and the decisions we made. I feel like it's time someone take responsibility for a life. Maybe I'll accept my own.
I've never felt more conservative in my life.
Knowledge of the Patient Oak. (Old.)
A tree scattered throughout the mess
Momentarily thinking of your beautiful dress!
A snapshot of perfection (but gone just as quickly.)
Years spent peering through canopy windows
Hoping to find some shimmer or glow
Distinguish me from the rest, if you can
When I'm not busy fufilling the mandate of man
Care for all The Wood but not of self
A trick I learned from father.
But in a hollow tone and trunk just as strong
I give a half-hearted argument for being alone.
The rains come and go with the season
Bringing the snow and poetic reason
So shed the leaves and all the work of the year
And no tears for the toil (Roots, grip the soil!)
Brace for the Winter and clouds for the sun
And know in your heart Spring will come
Trees of great age and girth commit to the sun
Leaving others to die, weak and young
But behold! On a night of virtue
The storm destroyed all the Oaks tall and wide
To show to the rest that they were dead long ago (on the inside)
So soak the rays and the "come-what-mays"
Know the light and the source
Know all things will take their course.
This was the first piece that I was actually satisfied with, for the most part. I feel like I could change a few lines, looking back, but I think it means more like this. I wrote this feeling like I had to get something off my chest, something very important. It stands out in my older writings because of that, I think. Other times, when I would just sit down and write, it felt like I was doing it wrong. I realize now that writing with an intent and purpose, rather than just for the sake of writing means so much more. To me, either reading or writing, it always seems to make the difference. Please make a point with what you say, and how you say it. I think there's some virtue to the idea of doing and saying just enough. Or instead of talking for half an hour, just say what you mean. I want to slap you in the face. This was my first real case of saying what I felt, to most importantly, myself.
Momentarily thinking of your beautiful dress!
A snapshot of perfection (but gone just as quickly.)
Years spent peering through canopy windows
Hoping to find some shimmer or glow
Distinguish me from the rest, if you can
When I'm not busy fufilling the mandate of man
Care for all The Wood but not of self
A trick I learned from father.
But in a hollow tone and trunk just as strong
I give a half-hearted argument for being alone.
The rains come and go with the season
Bringing the snow and poetic reason
So shed the leaves and all the work of the year
And no tears for the toil (Roots, grip the soil!)
Brace for the Winter and clouds for the sun
And know in your heart Spring will come
Trees of great age and girth commit to the sun
Leaving others to die, weak and young
But behold! On a night of virtue
The storm destroyed all the Oaks tall and wide
To show to the rest that they were dead long ago (on the inside)
So soak the rays and the "come-what-mays"
Know the light and the source
Know all things will take their course.
This was the first piece that I was actually satisfied with, for the most part. I feel like I could change a few lines, looking back, but I think it means more like this. I wrote this feeling like I had to get something off my chest, something very important. It stands out in my older writings because of that, I think. Other times, when I would just sit down and write, it felt like I was doing it wrong. I realize now that writing with an intent and purpose, rather than just for the sake of writing means so much more. To me, either reading or writing, it always seems to make the difference. Please make a point with what you say, and how you say it. I think there's some virtue to the idea of doing and saying just enough. Or instead of talking for half an hour, just say what you mean. I want to slap you in the face. This was my first real case of saying what I felt, to most importantly, myself.
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