Many of you from Northland remember Troy Deshano. Troy married Noel, Hawkins I believe, toward the end of their schooling. They were a quiet couple, unless you knew them. They were good friends. Troy ministers at Lake Ann Bible Camp. I've asked you to pray because of... events that you can read about more fully here. With his permission I've laid the bones below:
Troy has had a few bouts of Cancer. It's back.
They have three kids, the second of whom is autistic.
Take a minute, right now, to offer a quick prayer for them. If you don't do it now you may forget later.
Pray for Troy, that he be healed.
Pray that God will give him the strength to honor Him throughout the illness.
Pray that God will help Troy trust in Him for his family's sake.
Pray for Noel that the Lord will let her continue to be a good helper for Troy and a strong mother to their children.
Pray that they will both have wisdom in raising their kids through all these things.
Pray that the Lord will meet their needs.
To Him who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all. How shall He not with Him also freely give us all things? Indeed He must...in Jesus Name. Amen.
28.2.06
27.2.06
6:00 a.m.: A Brief and Loose Memoir (part 2)
6:00 a.m.: A Brief and Loose Memoir (part 1)
I don't remember much of the playoffs. A pall was cast over our path with the entrance of Aquinas. Not only were they a school of papists, they had just that year dropped from being a class C school to being a class D school by twenty-five students. And that along with a basketball program that had recently won the class C state title. They would be formidable, but we could take them, right? Wrong. After a nail biter against our arch-enemy the night before we drug ourselves in to take on the Machine...
In the end they beat us the same way we'd always been beaten. We were a team of great players. And we were a good team too. But we had no captain, no quarterback. When they stretched out their half court zone we couldn't breathe. We looked silly. We looked like we hadn't got up at 6:00 a.m. one time. I personally gave the second worst showing of my "career." We felt abused. Just abused. The whole thing was a lie. 6:00 a.m. didn't buy squat. Even the character it earned evaporated that evening. We sat in the locker room after, the last time I'd wear that shade of yellow, and wept. I had not wept that hard since early elementary. I have not wept that hard since. It was over. It was all over. So many things had gone wrong in our class, in my world, with my dreams, with our relationships, with the expectations that wearied us. It was over and it was about time.
Aquinas went on to win the championship. We knew of a few other Christian schools who had worked just as hard as we had to make this their year. Aquinas trounced them.
I didn't touch a basketball for nine months. Something died in me that night. It has come to symbolize a vast array of bitterness, resentment, misuse, lies, deceit, pride, and anger all unleashed, spent, and withered. They puddled on the floor of some foreign gym. I remember so little of that night. But I remember our story.
I don't remember much of the playoffs. A pall was cast over our path with the entrance of Aquinas. Not only were they a school of papists, they had just that year dropped from being a class C school to being a class D school by twenty-five students. And that along with a basketball program that had recently won the class C state title. They would be formidable, but we could take them, right? Wrong. After a nail biter against our arch-enemy the night before we drug ourselves in to take on the Machine...
In the end they beat us the same way we'd always been beaten. We were a team of great players. And we were a good team too. But we had no captain, no quarterback. When they stretched out their half court zone we couldn't breathe. We looked silly. We looked like we hadn't got up at 6:00 a.m. one time. I personally gave the second worst showing of my "career." We felt abused. Just abused. The whole thing was a lie. 6:00 a.m. didn't buy squat. Even the character it earned evaporated that evening. We sat in the locker room after, the last time I'd wear that shade of yellow, and wept. I had not wept that hard since early elementary. I have not wept that hard since. It was over. It was all over. So many things had gone wrong in our class, in my world, with my dreams, with our relationships, with the expectations that wearied us. It was over and it was about time.
Aquinas went on to win the championship. We knew of a few other Christian schools who had worked just as hard as we had to make this their year. Aquinas trounced them.
I didn't touch a basketball for nine months. Something died in me that night. It has come to symbolize a vast array of bitterness, resentment, misuse, lies, deceit, pride, and anger all unleashed, spent, and withered. They puddled on the floor of some foreign gym. I remember so little of that night. But I remember our story.
6:00 a.m.: A Brief and Loose Memoir (part 1)
We had been together for years. The Inter-City class of '98 were walkathon money-making hounds. We fought and played together. We possessed reams of inside jokes and a very low turnover ration which made our class an intimidating one to enter late in High School.
By the time we'd reached lower High School... we were touted as something of a wonder-class, and uber-class of athletes, musicians, scholars, comedians, and devout young believers. Several in our class were pastor's, teacher's, professor's, or other sorts of religious servant's children. We were told we were something and largely believed it. In retrospect, a nearly clear looking glass should one choose to use it, I can see that this was inflated. Our teachers in some way hoped in us, as all teachers must, and so praised us that we might be what they needed us to be. I remember the aura of disappointment that met the second half of our senior year. We were not the team players they groomed us to be. We meddled in pernicious vice and sold ourselves to unfamiliar affections. We had been given power, the power to be something great, but found the power amusing: the story of many, I am sure.
Our basketball team had been together since seventh grade. Only our “defensive specialist” and a few of the less athletic young men quit from then to the Varsity days. We began a sorry bunch. I personally failed to score even one single point that entire seventh grade season. Frankly, I was probably more secure sitting on the bench warm and modest beneath my warm-up than I was “running” down the court in our truncated uniforms. They were probably fifteen years old. Our colors, bright gold and dark purple, never met fondly with my mid-winter flesh. And the cut of the uniforms forced areas of my person to go public that were not accustomed to so doing. We all arrived in a veil of mortification. Some would wear compression shorts, which would stick out beneath their trunks almost a full foot. We all wore large, shot-impairing t-shirts. But we had fun. Late runs by McDonalds, long term consequence be hanged, were a highlight of the week. As Junior Highers too, we carved away each other's insecurities on the van ride. What a painful and hilarious time.
And we grew up. The ball grew smaller, the rim closer, the court shorter, and we were getting better. Over ten years had passed since IC won the state tournament. The star of that team was our coach. Every year we got a little closer to the goal. Every year we had the talent, if only they'd put it together. Our class would be different, we thought. We wanted the state championship and we would get it. We were a basketball class and it was ours to take.
But coach was frank with us. We weren't that good. We loved the game but we weren't as talented as some classes, nor as athletic as others. We would have to work hard. He found us a little workout regime that purported to be the pinnacle of integrated muscle and cardiovascular development: stations that lasted about a minute, with a few second break in between in order to transition between them: Curves for teenagers. Coach introduced this to us during out Junior Year. We did it religiously, those of us who lived close enough to get there in time, and a few who lived further away. During the school year we worked out after school. During the summer before our senior year, our glory year, we worked out at 6:00 a.m.
We were ready. Our time had come. We paid our dues. All summer long, three times a week, 6 in the morning, before work, before play, we started our days with, “Daaa da, da bum bum bum bum, do dododo do do do dododododo.” The Olympic theme song started our chaste mornings. By sit-ups I remember hearing, “Just...a closer walk with...'just closer walk with thee, just a closer walk'.” Our over scrupulous school had legislation on the books decrying anything with a beat. At any rate, we certainly endured a great deal between the early morning workouts and the de-motivating music.
Coach maximized our gifts by taxing our memories. We had plays for everything. We had numerous defensive presses: full-court, half-court, zones. And we could switch in and out at coach's command. We won some games and lost some: a regular season. But we were ready for the playoffs. Or were we?
By the time we'd reached lower High School... we were touted as something of a wonder-class, and uber-class of athletes, musicians, scholars, comedians, and devout young believers. Several in our class were pastor's, teacher's, professor's, or other sorts of religious servant's children. We were told we were something and largely believed it. In retrospect, a nearly clear looking glass should one choose to use it, I can see that this was inflated. Our teachers in some way hoped in us, as all teachers must, and so praised us that we might be what they needed us to be. I remember the aura of disappointment that met the second half of our senior year. We were not the team players they groomed us to be. We meddled in pernicious vice and sold ourselves to unfamiliar affections. We had been given power, the power to be something great, but found the power amusing: the story of many, I am sure.
Our basketball team had been together since seventh grade. Only our “defensive specialist” and a few of the less athletic young men quit from then to the Varsity days. We began a sorry bunch. I personally failed to score even one single point that entire seventh grade season. Frankly, I was probably more secure sitting on the bench warm and modest beneath my warm-up than I was “running” down the court in our truncated uniforms. They were probably fifteen years old. Our colors, bright gold and dark purple, never met fondly with my mid-winter flesh. And the cut of the uniforms forced areas of my person to go public that were not accustomed to so doing. We all arrived in a veil of mortification. Some would wear compression shorts, which would stick out beneath their trunks almost a full foot. We all wore large, shot-impairing t-shirts. But we had fun. Late runs by McDonalds, long term consequence be hanged, were a highlight of the week. As Junior Highers too, we carved away each other's insecurities on the van ride. What a painful and hilarious time.
And we grew up. The ball grew smaller, the rim closer, the court shorter, and we were getting better. Over ten years had passed since IC won the state tournament. The star of that team was our coach. Every year we got a little closer to the goal. Every year we had the talent, if only they'd put it together. Our class would be different, we thought. We wanted the state championship and we would get it. We were a basketball class and it was ours to take.
But coach was frank with us. We weren't that good. We loved the game but we weren't as talented as some classes, nor as athletic as others. We would have to work hard. He found us a little workout regime that purported to be the pinnacle of integrated muscle and cardiovascular development: stations that lasted about a minute, with a few second break in between in order to transition between them: Curves for teenagers. Coach introduced this to us during out Junior Year. We did it religiously, those of us who lived close enough to get there in time, and a few who lived further away. During the school year we worked out after school. During the summer before our senior year, our glory year, we worked out at 6:00 a.m.
We were ready. Our time had come. We paid our dues. All summer long, three times a week, 6 in the morning, before work, before play, we started our days with, “Daaa da, da bum bum bum bum, do dododo do do do dododododo.” The Olympic theme song started our chaste mornings. By sit-ups I remember hearing, “Just...a closer walk with...'just closer walk with thee, just a closer walk'.” Our over scrupulous school had legislation on the books decrying anything with a beat. At any rate, we certainly endured a great deal between the early morning workouts and the de-motivating music.
Coach maximized our gifts by taxing our memories. We had plays for everything. We had numerous defensive presses: full-court, half-court, zones. And we could switch in and out at coach's command. We won some games and lost some: a regular season. But we were ready for the playoffs. Or were we?
25.2.06
Connection Forum
Updated
The blogging world has been a source of unexpected joy. Few weeks go by without the Lord bringing old friends back into view. Links lead to links lead to comments lead to links lead to friends. For this reason I've set up BLOG CONNECT.
I hope the Lord uses it to continue to bind His children together. The structure is loose. As it says, People I know, from where I met them first. That is, more or less, the way it is.
If you have any questions or want to get back in touch directly, please use the "Email David" link at the top of the sidebar. I look forward to hearing from you.
May the Lord bless you and keep you; may He make His face to shine upon you; may He lift up His countenance on you, and give you peace, through Jesus Christ.
The blogging world has been a source of unexpected joy. Few weeks go by without the Lord bringing old friends back into view. Links lead to links lead to comments lead to links lead to friends. For this reason I've set up BLOG CONNECT.
I hope the Lord uses it to continue to bind His children together. The structure is loose. As it says, People I know, from where I met them first. That is, more or less, the way it is.
If you have any questions or want to get back in touch directly, please use the "Email David" link at the top of the sidebar. I look forward to hearing from you.
May the Lord bless you and keep you; may He make His face to shine upon you; may He lift up His countenance on you, and give you peace, through Jesus Christ.
Soul Shaper: Chapter 1
The second post of a review of Soul Shaper, a book reevaluating non-protestant spiritual disciplines.
24.2.06
I'd like to raise a Post...
I'd like to raise a post to tribute Chris Bruno, the man who introduced me to rock and roll.
You must understand, however vague, illogical, insupportable, unclear, mean, and ultimately useless Fundamentalist dogma on musical styles might be, they persist in proclaiming their holiness and truthfulness about it. They don't have two good arguments to rub together, but they legislate so pervasively and fiercely that a child growing up exclusively in their world can't help but feel that there must be something wrong with rock music, even if no one's said anything coherent against it yet. With all this yelling there must really be a fire, right? Of course the rest of educated, godly, articulate, and passionate evangelicalism knows that they are just plain nuts. But who wants to tell them that? After all, they're not hurting anyone are they? They're not getting anyone pregnant or doing drugs are they? Just leave 'em alone, they'll go away sooner or later. And for that day we hope and pray.
But such was the world into which I was born. Thank God Chris Bruno entered a normal Christian church. And thank God he became my friend. I could wax long and teary about our early friendship and about the tightness of our paths through high school and beyond. There will be other days to thank God for my friend, but today I want to thank Him for allowing Chris to turn me on to Rock and Roll.
The first time he showed me a Newsboys CD I said something to the effect of, “how can these guys possibly be Christians?” (Such was the sort of practical criteria we learned in Fundamentalism for evaluating true Christianity. We could look at a CD cover and tell immediately) We laugh about that to this day. Newsboys are still one of my favorite bands. I learned that one doesn't need to be able to endorse everything about a group or individual to be able to affirm as much as he can.
I began pressing on this issue more and more. My father, bless him, grew tired of my hassling and laid down the edict: “no CCM in this house.” I began to listen to secular rock after that (he did specify after all) though my conscience was not easy. And the grey-ghost, Chris's little truck, became a haven for Christian rock and roll: Newsboys, DC Talk, Jars of Clay. We rocked much, to the glory of God, in that tight little ride, and later in his escort (may it live forever), but we always stayed true to the Newsboys.
I say I thank God for Chris's influence in my life because God has in turn allowed me to further articulate many of the right things about Christian rock. I've had the opportunity to present the case to my father, who now enjoys more of God's glory in music than he had previously. I also was able to, by the Spirit, articulate most clearly a position on the issue to a concerned co-ed, who later became my wife and now enjoys the freedom to listen to everyone from Enya to Caedmon's Call (and nothing further). The Lord has allowed me to be used to set others free, and that only because Chris was my friend. Chris, it seems like a little thing, but it just shows how deeply your friendship has changed me and been used by God to further the glory of Christ in the freedom of the gospel in many lives. Blessings on you.
Please join me in prayer for our brother Chris as he heads overseas to finish his formal education. Learn more about the man and his family at Katie's (his wife) site.
You must understand, however vague, illogical, insupportable, unclear, mean, and ultimately useless Fundamentalist dogma on musical styles might be, they persist in proclaiming their holiness and truthfulness about it. They don't have two good arguments to rub together, but they legislate so pervasively and fiercely that a child growing up exclusively in their world can't help but feel that there must be something wrong with rock music, even if no one's said anything coherent against it yet. With all this yelling there must really be a fire, right? Of course the rest of educated, godly, articulate, and passionate evangelicalism knows that they are just plain nuts. But who wants to tell them that? After all, they're not hurting anyone are they? They're not getting anyone pregnant or doing drugs are they? Just leave 'em alone, they'll go away sooner or later. And for that day we hope and pray.
But such was the world into which I was born. Thank God Chris Bruno entered a normal Christian church. And thank God he became my friend. I could wax long and teary about our early friendship and about the tightness of our paths through high school and beyond. There will be other days to thank God for my friend, but today I want to thank Him for allowing Chris to turn me on to Rock and Roll.
The first time he showed me a Newsboys CD I said something to the effect of, “how can these guys possibly be Christians?” (Such was the sort of practical criteria we learned in Fundamentalism for evaluating true Christianity. We could look at a CD cover and tell immediately) We laugh about that to this day. Newsboys are still one of my favorite bands. I learned that one doesn't need to be able to endorse everything about a group or individual to be able to affirm as much as he can.
I began pressing on this issue more and more. My father, bless him, grew tired of my hassling and laid down the edict: “no CCM in this house.” I began to listen to secular rock after that (he did specify after all) though my conscience was not easy. And the grey-ghost, Chris's little truck, became a haven for Christian rock and roll: Newsboys, DC Talk, Jars of Clay. We rocked much, to the glory of God, in that tight little ride, and later in his escort (may it live forever), but we always stayed true to the Newsboys.
I say I thank God for Chris's influence in my life because God has in turn allowed me to further articulate many of the right things about Christian rock. I've had the opportunity to present the case to my father, who now enjoys more of God's glory in music than he had previously. I also was able to, by the Spirit, articulate most clearly a position on the issue to a concerned co-ed, who later became my wife and now enjoys the freedom to listen to everyone from Enya to Caedmon's Call (and nothing further). The Lord has allowed me to be used to set others free, and that only because Chris was my friend. Chris, it seems like a little thing, but it just shows how deeply your friendship has changed me and been used by God to further the glory of Christ in the freedom of the gospel in many lives. Blessings on you.
Please join me in prayer for our brother Chris as he heads overseas to finish his formal education. Learn more about the man and his family at Katie's (his wife) site.
23.2.06
Baptism by Feces
Now I know why they call little kids “Squirt.” Parenting is wonderful, stinky projectile launching and all. Sol has begun to smile, though I'm not sure if for the right reasons.
12:50 p.m.
...Listening to: Further Seems Forever
...Reading "The Older Woman" by Andree Seu
combined, I'm practically weeping. God help us make it home. A fabulous article meets my favorite new band since Jars: Enjoy, like the bitter taste of the peach before the wonder beneath.
...Reading "The Older Woman" by Andree Seu
combined, I'm practically weeping. God help us make it home. A fabulous article meets my favorite new band since Jars: Enjoy, like the bitter taste of the peach before the wonder beneath.
22.2.06
unusual spiritual disciplines
I've begun a review of Tony Jones's Soul Shaper. It's over at Biblings. I say it's begun because I hope to review this book slowly. It engages practices that may strengthen our faith and our hearers. Consider yourself formally invited to join me.
Focus Features
What a mixed bag. From Pride and Prejudice to Br*k*b*ck M**nt**n this studio has something for everybody. Recently, and randomly, we've watched three of their features: Pride and Prejudice, The Motorcyle Diaries, The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
Pride and Prejudice: True love includes sin, embraces repentance, displays redemption, and will live happily ever after. Also, female femininity, male chivalry, and chastity make love beautiful. This is important for a generation which has rejected purity and gender from their moral categories, but may prefer them in their lifestyle choices. In fact, this is what John Piper purports to do in Recovering Biblical Manhood and Womanhood:
The Motorcyle Diaries: Extreme sickness, poverty and injustice exist everywhere we look and only sacrificial love can tolerate their presence and work for their eradication. I suspect the movie was written to glamorize the socialist activist Ernesto Gueverra, and thus display the beauty of communism. If you can set that aside you'll enjoy a well shot, well acted, touching movie about the power of tender honesty and resolute love. That honesty and love are displayed against the back drop of at times youthful foolishness. Che's friend is older and less well-behaved than the younger, focal Che. Thus the movie is hardly pristine. But that is what makes it shine: love and honesty can coexist with foolish decisions and weakness. Indeed they must in order to exist in us at all. But love and honesty save no one; I doubt Ernesto is beholding the glory of our Lord. A challenging, enjoyable movie.
Eternal Sunshine...: Post-modernism and Post-modern impulses cannot conquer covenant love. I cannot recommend this movie because of profanity and the modern attitude towards sexuality which saturates it. That caveat aside, it was a great movie. It struck me dumb. Great performances, wonderful directing, and an intriguing story line. I read PluggedIn's review and heard from a friend that the movie was terribly depressing, dark, and nihilistic (Nietzsche is quoted in it). Not the case; not the case at all. I've probably said enough to ruin the movie already. If you're the sort that can handle the above negative elements, then you will enjoy this movie. A truly modern, truly romantic movie in the best and worse senses. Do go read the PluggedIn review for a heads up on the “dirties.”
Pride and Prejudice: True love includes sin, embraces repentance, displays redemption, and will live happily ever after. Also, female femininity, male chivalry, and chastity make love beautiful. This is important for a generation which has rejected purity and gender from their moral categories, but may prefer them in their lifestyle choices. In fact, this is what John Piper purports to do in Recovering Biblical Manhood and Womanhood:
There are two ways to commend a vision of manhood and womanhood. One way has to do with rational arguments concerning factual evidence...But there is another way to commend the vision. A person also wants to know, Is the vision beautiful and satisfying and fulfilling? Can I live with it?...We must commend the beauty as well as the truth of the vision. We must show that something is not only right but also good. It is not only valid but also valuable, not only accurate but also admirable.
The Motorcyle Diaries: Extreme sickness, poverty and injustice exist everywhere we look and only sacrificial love can tolerate their presence and work for their eradication. I suspect the movie was written to glamorize the socialist activist Ernesto Gueverra, and thus display the beauty of communism. If you can set that aside you'll enjoy a well shot, well acted, touching movie about the power of tender honesty and resolute love. That honesty and love are displayed against the back drop of at times youthful foolishness. Che's friend is older and less well-behaved than the younger, focal Che. Thus the movie is hardly pristine. But that is what makes it shine: love and honesty can coexist with foolish decisions and weakness. Indeed they must in order to exist in us at all. But love and honesty save no one; I doubt Ernesto is beholding the glory of our Lord. A challenging, enjoyable movie.
Eternal Sunshine...: Post-modernism and Post-modern impulses cannot conquer covenant love. I cannot recommend this movie because of profanity and the modern attitude towards sexuality which saturates it. That caveat aside, it was a great movie. It struck me dumb. Great performances, wonderful directing, and an intriguing story line. I read PluggedIn's review and heard from a friend that the movie was terribly depressing, dark, and nihilistic (Nietzsche is quoted in it). Not the case; not the case at all. I've probably said enough to ruin the movie already. If you're the sort that can handle the above negative elements, then you will enjoy this movie. A truly modern, truly romantic movie in the best and worse senses. Do go read the PluggedIn review for a heads up on the “dirties.”
19.2.06
Dabears, Dabulls, DaaaaaVinci
I've read and reviewed Dan Brown's wildly successful The DaVinci Code.
What follows is a followup post. You won't get my conclusions if you don't read the review.
________________
DaVinci: part 2
Should I read the book? Should we see the movie?
My recommendation on the matter would be to avoid the book (easy enough for most people). I've been reading through the Torah with the Discipleship Journal Reading Plan. God seems to have a zero-tolerance policy towards blasphemy, as does His Son. Now I know we encounter blasphemy of various kinds: taking the Name in vain, dishonoring Christ in the heart, despising the work of the Spirit. But I don't think we would tolerate the sexual insinuations in connection with both Christ and the Father that DaVinci makes. I would not recommend the book for any reason other than “to know the culture,” and I, for one, swallow far too much filth under that guise as it is. If you want decent modern fiction you could do so much better. I'd recommend Michael Crichton (though he's no angel) for drama. I've heard good things about Robert Ludlow, though I've not read him. Other reading suggestions? Put in a comment. Don't think we should read fiction? We'll get to you later.
The movie will be hard to miss if you like moving picture shows: Speilberg, Hanks: tough to beat. But I think we should miss it. We'll see if I can convince all the interested parties of my life (who is an especially voracious Hanks fan), although it may not be an issue since the baby. I know you can do without hearing the sorts of hints and allegations insinuated by the author and I know we don't want to support these sorts of Hollywood products with our hard earned money. Let's take a step of faith and go see something less superficially entertaining and possibly more rewarding. Or you could go further and not watch anything but rather go home and center your heart on the Lord or give yourself to selfless love of neighbor. Or you could sell all you have and go lay your life down for the gospel. Lots of options: Let Christ be all and in all.
What follows is a followup post. You won't get my conclusions if you don't read the review.
________________
DaVinci: part 2
Should I read the book? Should we see the movie?
My recommendation on the matter would be to avoid the book (easy enough for most people). I've been reading through the Torah with the Discipleship Journal Reading Plan. God seems to have a zero-tolerance policy towards blasphemy, as does His Son. Now I know we encounter blasphemy of various kinds: taking the Name in vain, dishonoring Christ in the heart, despising the work of the Spirit. But I don't think we would tolerate the sexual insinuations in connection with both Christ and the Father that DaVinci makes. I would not recommend the book for any reason other than “to know the culture,” and I, for one, swallow far too much filth under that guise as it is. If you want decent modern fiction you could do so much better. I'd recommend Michael Crichton (though he's no angel) for drama. I've heard good things about Robert Ludlow, though I've not read him. Other reading suggestions? Put in a comment. Don't think we should read fiction? We'll get to you later.
The movie will be hard to miss if you like moving picture shows: Speilberg, Hanks: tough to beat. But I think we should miss it. We'll see if I can convince all the interested parties of my life (who is an especially voracious Hanks fan), although it may not be an issue since the baby. I know you can do without hearing the sorts of hints and allegations insinuated by the author and I know we don't want to support these sorts of Hollywood products with our hard earned money. Let's take a step of faith and go see something less superficially entertaining and possibly more rewarding. Or you could go further and not watch anything but rather go home and center your heart on the Lord or give yourself to selfless love of neighbor. Or you could sell all you have and go lay your life down for the gospel. Lots of options: Let Christ be all and in all.
18.2.06
beating cancer
Pastor John has marvelous fresh words this week entitled, naturally, "Don't Waste Your Cancer."
After I read them I wondered at "the human condition," our own daily dying. We all have a cancer. In some people it shows itself as cancerous cells, in others as addictions, in everyone as fatigue, doubt, fear, aches and pain, misspent youth, unmet hopes, and the looming knowledge that any given moment may be our last. The body they, the curse, our sin, our enemy, our self, will kill. How shall we then live? Piper's meditation on the house of mourning ought to be to us a shot of spiritual addrenaline to awaken our coronary faith.
After I read them I wondered at "the human condition," our own daily dying. We all have a cancer. In some people it shows itself as cancerous cells, in others as addictions, in everyone as fatigue, doubt, fear, aches and pain, misspent youth, unmet hopes, and the looming knowledge that any given moment may be our last. The body they, the curse, our sin, our enemy, our self, will kill. How shall we then live? Piper's meditation on the house of mourning ought to be to us a shot of spiritual addrenaline to awaken our coronary faith.
Encouragement for the Modern Sermon-Maker
The Internet Monk posts a series of good critiques of contemporary preachers and the expectations they have given church-goers.
What's Wrong With The Sermon?:...
"It's Too Long"
"It's Boring"
"I don't understand it."
"It isn't practical."
"More stories please!"
What's Wrong With The Sermon?:...
"It's Too Long"
"It's Boring"
"I don't understand it."
"It isn't practical."
"More stories please!"
17.2.06
16.2.06
Mother in LAW
Jenecia's mom is here with us, so I've been cleaning all day. I know life is moving on to other subjects for the rest of you, so I'll get back to business soon.
15.2.06
14.2.06
sheesh
Sheesh; taking care of a baby is a lot of work. (It is also an equal if not greater joy [especially for such a cutie])
13.2.06
meet the boy who will be king
welcome to the world, Solomon.
(Mother and Son are doing well, and terribly cute.)
11.2.06
Solomon Edwin Griffiths
Jenecia gave birth to Solomon Edwin Griffiths this morning, February 11, 2006, at 5:55 a.m. The boy arrived weighing 9 lbs. 8 oz. and was twenty-two inches long. Jenecia had a relatively smooth labor, but the pushing was intense and extended: 3.5 hours. We arrived home this evening at about 8:30. Mother and child are doing well, considering. Thank you for your prayers. Great is the faithfulness of the Lord, our God. Pictures and anecdotes forthcoming.
10.2.06
Here we go!
Yikes! Here come the birth pains! Please keep us in prayer, well, especially Jenecia. Thank you.
8.2.06
stay tuned
Just so you know, I've got a goodly number of reviews coming, so stick around. I just finished the DaVinci Code, and have viewed three particular "Focus Features" movies. In addition we're going to trek together through some non-protestant spiritual practices (read: emergent) to see from which we might benefit.
6.2.06
While we're on the topic,...
Kevin McFadden summarizes Adler's four helpful questions for "coming to terms" with an author. Susinct, beatiful, and helpful: catch them, bookmark them, love them, and follow them.
For those looking for posts of a different nature, still nothing and no significant progress as regards the movement of the sorts of things that must begin moving for progress to happen and for babies to be born.
For those looking for posts of a different nature, still nothing and no significant progress as regards the movement of the sorts of things that must begin moving for progress to happen and for babies to be born.
"I been saying it..."
Several years ago, after I'd finally gotten my clothes buying binges out of my system, I came to understand that, if you want to give someone a valuable, enduring gift, two stand head and shoulders above all others: Books and Music. I'm not the only one who thinks so either: "The Least Material of Material Gifts."
And here's another good article on reading from NPR: "Yellowing, Dog-Eared, and Perfect."
And here's another good article on reading from NPR: "Yellowing, Dog-Eared, and Perfect."
5.2.06
Meet the Steelers: "Hey, Yo"
For most of you we are the only people you know who are now or ever have been associated with Pittsburgh. As the voice of the Steelers to you, my friends, let me just say, "WooooHooooo!" As in every close, exciting game the referees played a significant role; but in the end Pitt had the wheels, the gun (s), the gloves, and the gimmicks to close off a wonderful story (Meet the Rooneys), a wonderful run (seven games to qualify for the wild card slot), and a wonderful career (The Bus retired). Good job Steelers. Congratulations Pittsburgh. Best wishes Seahawks, better luck next year.
3.2.06
Arc Generator
For all fans of the arc-ing method of coming to terms with scriptural texts, you must see this! Matt Reimer delivers a wildly impressive...thing (I don't even know what the heck it is). Cutting edge.
2.2.06
Extensions
Firefox, from Mozilla, is the ONLY web-browser. I never thought I'd be so adamant about anything CPU, though perhaps those who know me knew it would only be a matter of time before my excessive-compulsive gene carried over into Tech.
After you've downloaded Firefox and gotten to know her, you must import these fabulous extensions:
Performancing, gives immediate post-ability, a great help for bloggers;
Book Burro, finds the best price for books, nods to JT for this help, although I am focusing more on reading than buying right now;
ESV Bible, the now ubiquitous favored translation of the vast right wing conspiracy;
AdBlock, if you hate adds as much as I do...;
DownThemAll, interesting extension that gives you the option of downloading EVERY FILE ON A PAGE (Yikes!).
And of course, there are thousands of others. The internet is a great abyss, gaping and yawning after your life; hopefully these extensions will make it a more profitable gaping abyss of death.
After you've downloaded Firefox and gotten to know her, you must import these fabulous extensions:
Performancing, gives immediate post-ability, a great help for bloggers;
Book Burro, finds the best price for books, nods to JT for this help, although I am focusing more on reading than buying right now;
ESV Bible, the now ubiquitous favored translation of the vast right wing conspiracy;
AdBlock, if you hate adds as much as I do...;
DownThemAll, interesting extension that gives you the option of downloading EVERY FILE ON A PAGE (Yikes!).
And of course, there are thousands of others. The internet is a great abyss, gaping and yawning after your life; hopefully these extensions will make it a more profitable gaping abyss of death.
Great Articles on Reading from T4G
The Together for the Gospel blog is delightful reading. I've enjoyed these articles on reading:
Al Mohler on reading
Ligon Duncan on reading
Mark Dever on reading and again
C.J. Mahaney on reading
More than just random thoughts, Mahaney asks several questions that guide the responses. Anyone who enjoys ministry or books, or ministry and books, should read those posts. You'll go; you'll laugh; you'll be challenged.
Al Mohler on reading
Ligon Duncan on reading
Mark Dever on reading and again
C.J. Mahaney on reading
More than just random thoughts, Mahaney asks several questions that guide the responses. Anyone who enjoys ministry or books, or ministry and books, should read those posts. You'll go; you'll laugh; you'll be challenged.
(HT: JT) [I believe this is some sort of atribution; those who know better, please confirm or correct that assumption)
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