I thought the Jeremy Camp video relates so perfectly to the 4/18 post. It also reminded me of this scripture...
"I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. The creation waits in eager expectation for the sons of God to be revealed. For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the glorious freedom of the children of God.
We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently."
Romans 8:18-25
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
"Love in the Time of Cholera"
On a whim, the heroine rejected her heart's love to marry another. The author, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, wrote that "she erased him completely, and in the space that he had occupied in her memory she allowed a field of poppies to bloom."
Monday, April 20, 2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
The Pain that Gives Way to Joy
Excerpts from "The Problem of Pain" by C.S. Lewis, from his chapter on "Heaven":
"There have been times when I think we do not desire heaven; but more often I find myself wondering whether, in our heart of hearts, we have ever desired anything else. You may have noticed that the books you really love are bound together by a secret thread. You know very well what is the common quality that makes you love them, though you cannot put it into words; but most of your friends do not see it at all, and often wonder why, liking this, you should also like that. Again, you have stood before some landscape, which seems to embody what you have been looking for all your life, and then turned to the friend at your side who appears to be seeing what you saw - but at the first words a gulf yawns between you, and you realise that this landscape means something totally different to him, that he is pursuing an alien vision and cares nothing for the ineffable suggestion by which you are transported. Even in your hobbies, has there not always been some secret attraction which the others are curiously ignorant of - something, not to be identified with, but always on the verge of breaking through, the smell of cut woood in the workshop or the clap-clap of water against the boat's side? Are not all lifelong friendships born at the moment when at last you meet another human being who has some inkling (but faint and uncertain even in the best) of that something which you were born desiring, and which, beneath the flux of other desires and in all the momentary silences between the louder passions, night and day, year by year, from childhood to old age, you are looking for, watching for, listening for? You have never had it. All the things that have ever deeply possessed your soul have been but hints of it - tantalising glimpses, promises never quite fulfilled, echoes that died away just as they caught your ear. But if it should really become manifest - if there ever came an echo that did not die away but swelled into the sound itself - you would know it. Beyond all possibility of doubt you would say 'Here at last is the thing I was made for.' We cannot tell each other about it. It is the secret signature of each soul, the incommunicable and unappeasable want, the thing we desired before we met our wives or made our friends or chose our work, and which we shall still desire on our deathbeds, when the mind no longer knows wife or friend or work. While we are, this is. If we lose this, we lose all."
I wonder sometimes if the hurts and disappointments in life serve only (or at least partially) to remind us that we were not created for this life. We're always left with a deep-seated longing in our soul, because this is not what we were ultimately created for. In John 16, Jesus is preparing his disciples for his coming death...
"Truly, you will weep and mourn over what is going to happen to me, but the world will rejoice. You will grieve, but your grief will suddenly turn to wonderful joy when you see me again. It will be like a woman experiencing the pains of labor. When her child is born, her anguish gives place to joy... You have sorrow now, but I will see you again; then you will rejoice, and no one can rob you of that joy." (John 16:20-22)
He seemed to say, "I know it will be difficult, but hang on... my death is not the end of the story. When you know the full story, you will have cause to rejoice."
"Now we see things imperfectly as in a poor mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarify. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God knows me now." (I Corinthians 13:12)
So, I guess the lesson is... I don't know the full story. The unfulfilled desires of my heart serve to point me to Christ and the day I will be with Him. LORD, haste that day! In the meantime, help me keep my eyes focused securely on You.
"There have been times when I think we do not desire heaven; but more often I find myself wondering whether, in our heart of hearts, we have ever desired anything else. You may have noticed that the books you really love are bound together by a secret thread. You know very well what is the common quality that makes you love them, though you cannot put it into words; but most of your friends do not see it at all, and often wonder why, liking this, you should also like that. Again, you have stood before some landscape, which seems to embody what you have been looking for all your life, and then turned to the friend at your side who appears to be seeing what you saw - but at the first words a gulf yawns between you, and you realise that this landscape means something totally different to him, that he is pursuing an alien vision and cares nothing for the ineffable suggestion by which you are transported. Even in your hobbies, has there not always been some secret attraction which the others are curiously ignorant of - something, not to be identified with, but always on the verge of breaking through, the smell of cut woood in the workshop or the clap-clap of water against the boat's side? Are not all lifelong friendships born at the moment when at last you meet another human being who has some inkling (but faint and uncertain even in the best) of that something which you were born desiring, and which, beneath the flux of other desires and in all the momentary silences between the louder passions, night and day, year by year, from childhood to old age, you are looking for, watching for, listening for? You have never had it. All the things that have ever deeply possessed your soul have been but hints of it - tantalising glimpses, promises never quite fulfilled, echoes that died away just as they caught your ear. But if it should really become manifest - if there ever came an echo that did not die away but swelled into the sound itself - you would know it. Beyond all possibility of doubt you would say 'Here at last is the thing I was made for.' We cannot tell each other about it. It is the secret signature of each soul, the incommunicable and unappeasable want, the thing we desired before we met our wives or made our friends or chose our work, and which we shall still desire on our deathbeds, when the mind no longer knows wife or friend or work. While we are, this is. If we lose this, we lose all."
I wonder sometimes if the hurts and disappointments in life serve only (or at least partially) to remind us that we were not created for this life. We're always left with a deep-seated longing in our soul, because this is not what we were ultimately created for. In John 16, Jesus is preparing his disciples for his coming death...
"Truly, you will weep and mourn over what is going to happen to me, but the world will rejoice. You will grieve, but your grief will suddenly turn to wonderful joy when you see me again. It will be like a woman experiencing the pains of labor. When her child is born, her anguish gives place to joy... You have sorrow now, but I will see you again; then you will rejoice, and no one can rob you of that joy." (John 16:20-22)
He seemed to say, "I know it will be difficult, but hang on... my death is not the end of the story. When you know the full story, you will have cause to rejoice."
"Now we see things imperfectly as in a poor mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarify. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God knows me now." (I Corinthians 13:12)
So, I guess the lesson is... I don't know the full story. The unfulfilled desires of my heart serve to point me to Christ and the day I will be with Him. LORD, haste that day! In the meantime, help me keep my eyes focused securely on You.
Thursday, April 09, 2009
National Poetry Month
In honor of, I'll share the first poem I ever wrote. It was an English sonnet I had to write for a high school English class. So... go easy on me. :)
(It apparently has no name)
The gardener dropped the seed, my love to sow
It represents a love meant just for one
This seed will bloom for him I not yet know
Its growth unseen, I know it has begun.
The elements of love will make it grow
Compassion, warmth and faith shine as the sun
So delicate upon the earth below
Hard times, forgiveness, o're the ground shall run.
The healing power in love shall fall as rain
Upon the sprout new life shall start to flow
No death, nor storm may split this love in twain
And as it buds a gentle breeze may blow.
At last, my love, the flow'r, look and behold
As delicate, lush petals now unfold!
My teacher's comments:
2nd line -- > meter is rough
interesting metaphor seed/love
rhyme scheme not marked
Grade: 37/43
(It apparently has no name)
The gardener dropped the seed, my love to sow
It represents a love meant just for one
This seed will bloom for him I not yet know
Its growth unseen, I know it has begun.
The elements of love will make it grow
Compassion, warmth and faith shine as the sun
So delicate upon the earth below
Hard times, forgiveness, o're the ground shall run.
The healing power in love shall fall as rain
Upon the sprout new life shall start to flow
No death, nor storm may split this love in twain
And as it buds a gentle breeze may blow.
At last, my love, the flow'r, look and behold
As delicate, lush petals now unfold!
My teacher's comments:
2nd line -- > meter is rough
interesting metaphor seed/love
rhyme scheme not marked
Grade: 37/43
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)