The Pigeon Master

Well?

2008-06-03T22:15:00.001-05:00

As a reader of this blog (is there anyone left out there?) would you mind subscribing to my other location @ www.micahandnatalie.com/micah? I am considering obliterating this location. Any thoughts?

Another Day at the Office

2008-06-03T22:06:00.000-05:00

People must live somewhere. Most live in houses. Most of those houses have walls. Most of those walls need to look good. So I have a job. Yes, I am your friendly, neighborhood drywall guy. I go to work. I sand. I spray. I wonder if we are in a recession. Just another day at the office.

The joy is when I come home, which is why I leave for work. Take tonight for example. While I try to type with one hand around Nathan, who is standing on my lap (at nine weeks), Natalie is giggling almost uncontrollably due to something Patrick MacManus wrote in The Bear In The Attic. We are working at some freezer-burned vanilla icecream, garnished with chocolate chips, while I consider whether or not this would go well with what remains of dinner’s Merlot.

Speaking of dinner, it was fantastic. Natalie put mushrooms on my side of the pizza. (Guys, give your wives earrings, good things happen.) Life’s sweetest pleasures sometimes come in a bunch of small parcels.

365 Short Days, One Long Year

2008-06-02T11:04:00.000-05:00

It all started with a cup of coffee with her dad. That was a year and seven months ago. Who knew what all would come of it. In the last twelve months Natalie and I have experienced: our first kiss, a car accident, home remodeling, financial ups and downs, livestock successes and failures, lots of good wine, food shared with good friends, and the birth of our first son. It has been a good year, and I look forward to many, many more.

True Story

2008-05-27T21:40:00.000-05:00

I was drifting precariously between wakefulness and sleep. The dark tugged at my eyelids heavily. Thump. “Did you hear that?” I asked. Natalie knows the strange house sounds better than I do. “Do you know what it was?” She didn’t. She did have concerning theories about windows opening. They made me wish I was still asleep. Sleep… Yes… No… Yes… We had been what seemed like hours getting Nathan to sleep. It was my turn. I tried to listen for more sounds. Any hints that I should really be concerned. Not that it makes a difference, I would have to go check things out. But I should wake up first.
The sound of glass breaking is very singular and unique. It is instant and sharp, and yet it lingers on the air. In my groggy state I couldn’t decipher exactly where the shatter happened, but there was no question what it was, glass. Pane glass. The transition from mostly asleep to adrenaline pumped and ready to tear the arms off of whatever it was I was sure was going to come through the bedroom door was instant. It was faster than instant. I shouted, no, bellowed, hoping through some instinct to scare the demon-driven monster away. The dog, outside was barking frantically. His deep, protective bark. I scramble through my drawer for the gun. It wasn’t there. But Natalie assures me it is. She turns on the light, I find the gun, and my AAA powered LED penlight. It was about as likely to penetrate the dark as a pocket knife is to conquer the Amazonian jungle. But I delved in undaunted. I had no choice.

There is something about having others to protect that makes you brave. I made my way from room to room checking the doors and windows. Down the stairs. I was breathing hard. No glass anywhere. The dog was still barking like mad. Maybe I missed something upstairs. My family was still upstairs. I scrambled up the stairs.

Walmart sells these rolls of padded double-sided sticky-tape. You use them to attach things to the wall. Things like mirror tiles. Said mirror tiles look particularly attractive when placed appropriately in small spaces, like our upstairs bath. I didn’t notice a warranty of any type on the packaging when I bought the tape, but I kind of expected it to last a while. But, failing that, I was left with one question. Why, out of 1440 minutes in a day, did it have to fail in the middle of the night?

The blue light of my LED flashlight cast eerie reflections on the bathroom wall off of the hundreds of glass-mirror shards on the tile floor. On the wall, one of the middle mirror-tiles was missing, leaving a gap. The relief washed over me slowly, though my heart was still pumping. The dog continued lapping around the house bellowing. Natalie came up. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. I hugged her. We both had the same thought at the same time. All the noise, the glass breaking, the yelling, the shuffling and thumping, surely Nathan would have woken, after all the time trying to get him asleep. We looked in the bedroom, and there he lay, sleeping peacefully, as if he knew everything was alright the whole time.

Providential Poetry

2008-05-23T06:56:00.000-05:00

Every morning I wake up, as my wife would say, early. She is an aficionado of sleep. But some mornings it is all I can do to keep from pulling her out of bed, pressing her face against the window, and exclaiming with more enthusiasm than a five year old on fruit loops, "Look, look, it did it again!" For there in the morning horizon, despite every impossibility, is the bright burning orb, the sun.

What are the odds, in all the universe, that this ball we live in, as it rotates around the sun, wouldn't get slightly off its axis, or a couple inches too close? Imagine, if that happened, and something as simple happened as all the spiders in the world dying. Then fly and mosquito populations skyrocket unhampered, disease runs rampant through not only cities, but the country. The food supply is destroyed. But that is the least of our worries, for why would the world only miss by a few inches?

What reason do we have, other than it hasn't happened yet, to believe the earth won't go careening one of these days into outer space, bouncing off the other planets like a pinball? This is the divine providence of a loving, personal God, that despite infinite and impossible odds, the universe is held in order. The sun, as it were , rises. The moon holds the tides and releases them. The gas in our cars continues to combust. Food continues to nourish, and our bodies continue to process it. Why? Because the cells all are working together? No, because God is daily, moment by moment, breathing the command that it be so.

I think this is the essence of poetry and beauty. The world, despite all inclinations to go wrong, goes right. We could end up anywhere, yet here we are, where we are supposed to be.

The Church: Growing and Eating and Growing

2008-04-13T17:57:00.000-05:00

It has been a busy time. And happy. As many know, my son, Nathan Laurence, was born two weeks ago. This has opened my world up in an explosion of joy, love, responsibility, and fear. As my pastor said this morning, this is not something I can get out of. Essentially, I'm stuck. I have now found myself face to face with the reality of the need for sanctification and Christ-likeness. Laying down my life is no longer an option in a real tangible way. Either I bring home a paycheck, or I am a murderer.

But at the same time, I have been blessed by God in a way more tangible than ever before. The God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob has extended His covenant to a people not His own. He called a people who were His enemies and made them His part of His church, His people. He made us part of the glorious lineage of Heaven, as a good friend of mine put it. He extended the covenant, with covenant curses and covenant blessings, to us. Nathan is a covenant blessing. Nathan is in the covenant. This cause for celebration, and sober consideration.

So we will be celebrating. Nathan will be baptized this week, and after the baptism we will feast. We will feast mainly on pork. This pork is from a pig whose entire existence has been for this purpose, to feed the people of God as we celebrate the entrance of a new covenant member into the church of Christ.

It is just this sort of celebration that I feel is a large part of what it means to be the church. It is living life before the face of God in gratitude and joy. It is by celebrating the blessings of God, and considering them wisely, that we will cause the nations of the earth to bend the knee to Christ. It is by working together, laughing together, and working together that we will fix the economy, the abortion rate, and the drug problems of our culture.

We want to fix the culture so that the world will know the joy that is eating at the Table of the Lamb. We want the world to eat with us at the heavenly table. We convince them, not by politics or changing the law, but by eating rightly before them. We want the world to sit outside our windows wondering what the fuss is about, why we are so happy in the Lord's house with the Lord's people. And we want to invite them in.

Nathan Laurence

2008-03-31T20:47:00.002-05:00

Nathan Laurence arrived at 2:38 Sunday morning. He was 8 lbs. 3 oz. and 21 inches long. Mother and son and recovering and doing well.

Go Green

2008-03-17T21:10:00.001-05:00

Happy St. Patrick's Day

Real Beautiful Bodies

2008-03-15T11:13:00.000-05:00

I can't help but think that our world, in its full scale fleshly materialism, is in the clutches of gnosticism. The whole world is obsessed with bodies. We want six pack abs, bulging biceps, and fuller busts. We associate beauty with a robotic, utilitarian, youthful type of body. You know, buns of steel. When we are forty-five, we regret that we no longer look twenty. Some still try. The body has a tendency to mature, and that involves stretching, bulging, and sagging. That is the reality of it. But we are obsessed with perfect bodies. Ones that are tight, hard, and don't wear out. That's not reality, it gnostic. It denies the fundamental physical reality of being a physical being in a fallen world.

This gnostic view of the body denies life. It is a view that says the primary purpose of the body is to give life to itself. But we know that to live we must lay aside our own life. This is easy for me to say as a guy. I don't see the effects of this as quickly. Laying aside my life physically may actually make me look stronger, tighter, and all of that. When I work, because I do work, my body for a time will improve. But what about my wife? What happens when she embraces the purpose of the body God has given her, and lays aside her life to give life? For starters, she gives life. Life grows inside of her. And then she starts to grow and change, and the world looks at her and says, 'eww'. She is uncomfortable often, and by accepting pregnancy she has accepted changes in her body that may never go away. Many in the world, and in the church, look at that kind of sacrifice and cannot fathom why she would do such a thing. It is because only by laying down our lives can we live, and she will not only live, but will have given life to another.

But it is not that she has accepted the idea of looking ugly to give life. Far from it! She has accepted a different idea of beauty. Hers is a more mature beauty. It is a beauty that in twenty years will not look like a girl's, but will look like the beauty of a woman who has given life to the covenant children of God. We will both one day be old and wrinkly. I hope we can look back through the years not regretting that we have lost our youth, but rejoicing that we have given it. I hope that we will look at the past not as somewhere we wish we could be still, but as somewhere that was a step to where we are going. Where we are going is a real world of real redeemed bodies. Mature ones that are more beautiful than any we can imagine here.

Go back in your hole, little groundhog guy.

2008-02-22T22:34:00.000-06:00

Would God roll in a whole storm just to make me rest and recover from a cold? Winter finally decided to come around, for the last four possible weeks. And now everyone is ready for it to be over. Save the ice for July. Give us the sniffly nose when we should be mowing lawns. I suppose there is a time for everything. Without dark we wouldn't know light, without hunger we wouldn't know satisfaction, and without cold we wouldn't know the bitter piercing pain in our little toes, I mean warmth. It is nice to curl up on the couch with a warm, beautiful, pregnant woman (who you are married to), with a good book and a cozy, gas powered fire, and glowing ceramic logs. Ahh... the good things in life.

How One Lonely Typewriter Became a Productive Member of Society

2008-02-14T21:08:00.000-06:00

I had had an itch to write for a time. There was that burn inside to express things, but not to merely express then; to tell them as stories. I tried the modern man's method, the computer, but it was useless. There were too many distractions. Email to check, blogs to read, no end of other things that could be done without ever leaving the comfort of my seat. No, the computer wasn't for me. So I tried to write by long-0hand. It was better, but it took too long to get each thought on the page. Finally the idea struck me, what I needed was a typewriter.
A typewriter would be perfect. It would never crash, I wouldn't have to save my work every five minutes, and the only virus protection it would need would be Lysol. A typewriter was the perfect solution. Typewriters are prettier than computers, more elegant that is, and much more encouraging. What computer ever salved your pride by dinging positively at the end of every line to signify progress?
Yes, a typewriter was the thing for me. But where to acquire an outdated, obsolete, retro beast? I decided the thing must to do must be to keep my eyes open, and be patient. Eventually, I found an ad for not, one, but two free typewriters. . I jumped all over it. I contacted the number in the ad, and arranged for them to be placed outside the person's doorstep. I showed up at the appointed time. Notypewriters , and no one home. I made my way back to my own home, call the number again, and set up a time to try again. My continued endeavors were met, initially with success. The nice lady handed me the typewriters, free of charge. "Do you know anything about typewriter repair?" she asked. Well, said I, I am fairly handy.
Ha! Handy. Handy fixes plumbing and changes the oil. Typewriters, it turns out, are precision pieces of machinery. There's not much fooling around inside a typewriter. There are millions of little levers springs, and do-hickies. Edison figured out electricity, but these contraptions would have given him coniption fits.
I jus did not have the time to solve all the puzzles of one of these fine, precision instruments. If I could fix one of these, it would be my civic duty to open a business offering my services to all the other starving, eccentric maniacs out there. No, I had other, more profitable, things to do. Or so I thought.
It has been said that God has a sense of humor. As it turns out, I very possibly may have been the brunt of one of His jokes. It looked like an ice storm to me. One couldn't go outside for two days straight without slipping and ending sunny side up. So, with nothing else to do, and a yearning for a working typewriter, I approached the machine of the two I was less fond of with a screwdriver and a set of pliers.
Getting it apart was easy enough. A few screws here, a spring there, it was open. So far so good, it seemed. All the parts were carefully organized, as I removed them, on a cookie sheet. With any luck, I hoped, the dog wouldn't charge through and upset them.
Once apart I began looking at the thing carefully, applying all of the limited knowledge I had acquired over the past few days, assessing the symptoms. Eventually I narrowed it down to one cog that was not turning freely. One cog, which I could see and access from outside before disassembling the whole machine. I decided a little oil should do the trick, and then on to re-assembling it all.
Little did I know, the fun was about to begin. First, as I held a certain assembly, it fell apart. Little balls and washers rolled onto the carpet, like treasure looking for a pack-rat.
The reconstruction process was a long, exhausting one. For hours I assessed and compared parts, probing my memory of where they had come from, what their job was, and how they were supposed to do when placed in their proper location. Eventually I got it back together, the original problem solved. Only, then I had five more problems, each twice as frustrating. One particular assembly of springs and levers would not go back into position correctly no matter what I did. It would have been helpful if I had noticed before ruthlessly disassembling it like an oaf in a butcher shop, how it had sat. But I did not. Somehow I had assumed that it would just go back the way it had been before. It would not. Finally, after much frustration, I gave up, promising to come back later. I set the contraption down, and the assembly slid back into its place.
Finally I put the whole thing back together and typed out a sample sheet. All the keys worked, the carriage progressed nicely, the bell even worked. The only problem was that the keys didn't print in nice even rows. When I typed across the keyboard (qwerty) the letters ascended in nice little staircases, so that the q, a, and z were at the bottom, and the p, l, and m were nearly a full line higher. When typing words and sentences, the effect was very random. The words gave the impression of a roller coaster, or the back-roads of any given county in the Ozarks. I was baffled and beat. I had a working model of a third grade boy's dream typewriter. I put it up at last, discouraged.
I sat down with a book to relax and read. I succeeded in relaxing. As I drifted off to sleep, I very dimly though about the problem with the typewriter. Suddenly, like a bolt of lightning in a blue sky, I realized what the problem was, and, as soon as I woke up, I made one small adjustment that fixed the machine's Jacob's Ladder complex. I am now the proud owner of a working 1970's teal Smith-Corona Corsair Deluxe.

The original of this post was composed on a Smith-Corona typewriter.

The Son of God Goes Forth to War

2008-02-10T07:55:00.001-06:00

by Reginald Heber

The Son of God goes forth to war,
A kingly crown to gain;
His blood red banner streams afar!
Who follows in His train?
Who best can drink His cup of woe,
Triumphant over pain,
Who patient bears his cross below,
He follows in His train.

The martyr first, whose eagle eye
Could pierce beyond the grave;
Who saw his Master in the sky,
And called on Him to save.
Like Him with pardon on His tongue,
In midst of mortal pain,
He prayed for them that did the wrong!
Who follows in His train?

A glorious band, the chosen few
On whom the Spirit came,
Twelve valiant saints, their hope they knew,
And macked the cross and flame.
They met the tyrant’s brandished steel,
The lions gory mane;
They bowed their necks the death to feel:
Who follows in their train?

A noble army, men and boys,
The matron and the maid,
Around the Savior’s throne rejoice
In robes of light arrayed.
They climbed the steep ascent of heav’n,
Through peril, toil, and pain;
O God, to us may grace be giv’n
To follow in their train.

This year, the first.

2008-02-09T07:39:00.001-06:00

St. Augustine deals very interestingly with time in his Confessions. The past doesn’t exist, neither does the future, but the present does. But what is the present but a transfer of the future to the past. So there must be a present of the past, and present of the present, and present of the future. Regardless, we live in time, as God has seen fit to create a world that proceeds from one end to the other. In that time we have cycles of time. Minutes become hours, hours days, days weeks, weeks months, months years, and years one after another. This year, which is proceeding last, causes me to look back and remember the last, which has been significant. A year ago marks when she said yes. She promised to be joined to me, in flesh and mind. She is now my wife, and a wonderful wife at that. She finishes me, helps me, and adds to me. She is bearing the sign of God’s blessing to me. She is Natalie, my wife, and I love her.

New Format

2008-02-07T21:55:00.000-06:00

I am going to try a new blog format. That is, hosting my own. This will generally be much sharper. I don't know how it will affect subscriptions (you can RSS to it).I may still post here for a while, but I will be trying to move to the other full time. The address is www.micahandnatalie.com/micah. Enjoy.

Happy Happy

2008-01-22T11:53:00.000-06:00

Need I say more?

2008-01-20T07:55:00.001-06:00

God Moves In a Mysterious Way
by William Cowper

God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform;
He plants His footsteps in the sea
And rides upon the storm.

Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never failing skill
He treasures up His bright designs
And works His sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;
The clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break
In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace,
Behind a frowning povidence
He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,
Unfolding every hour;
The bud may have a bitter taste,
But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err
And scan His work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.

Cupboards, Keys, and Evil Witch-Queens in Full Audio

2008-01-19T09:40:00.000-06:00

I found a great new way to enjoy a good book. Just finished 100 Cupboards by ND Wilson (known by some as the strange son of that heretic Doug Wilson). Great book. It's riveting, full of plot twists, action, character, and an evil witch queen. It is definitely the type of book you would pick up and not put back down until you can finish it. But I couldn't do that. You see, I was reading it aloud to my lovely wife. I could only read so much before my voice would begin to go. Two chapters was about my limit. I couldn't read on silently, because my dinner was on the line, and I tend to be ticklish. So I would read a section and put it down. Then I would spend the rest of the next day dying to know what happened. One night I stopped reading, and couldn't sleep because of all the little things going bump in the night (...so the book has a slight suspense to it, we're all human). It was great. I highly recommend this approach to reading a good book. Especially the wife to read it to. That part's great.

Pragmatism Concerns

2008-01-03T22:07:00.000-06:00

I came down rather hard on Ron Paul in my last post. Does that mean I'm going to vote for Huckabee? Absolutely not. The only reason to vote for people like Huckabee, or any major candidate, is that they are the best people with the most likely chance to succeed. That's called pragmatism, and it doesn't work. We all want to save our country, so, using pragmatism, knowing we won't get 'our guy' in, we vote for guys like Bush. Sure, he won't come down on killing babies and innocent Iraqis, but he won't hook us up with the UN right away. Peroutka didn't have a chance, and we didn't want another scandal, so we all voted Republican. We'll fix the government bit by bit, and that way fix the country bit by bit. But God doesn't work that way.

We have all bought into the social religion of political America. No, we may not get food stamps, but we want the government to hand us our redemption. We want Uncle Sam and Big Brother to fill the voids in our souls. But it won't happen. Instead, we will all vote for who we vote for, and then, after we die, we will be called to answer for those decisions. Did we support men who killed innocent children, women, husbands? No, we can't be held responsible for their actions, but we are responsible for wanting them as our leaders, for whatever reason. We must vote, not for the best who is most likely to succeed, but for the man who shows signs of walking the most humbly and circumspectly before the Lord God, his Creator.

Our God saves through mysterious ways. Through death we are saved to life. Through water we are called into the Church. Through bread and wine we are made one with our Savior. Through repentance nations are saved. Our Lord has the power to sway a vote, so vote with a clean conscience, and trust Him to give justice and mercy where He sees fit. We will not be saved through politics, or any one political rule, but by every Christian person bowing the knee to the Lordship of Jesus Christ in the here and now over this, His world. Every family walking before Him, in humility. Every Church casting off the weight of the secularism that ties it down. But, since we cannot repent of another man's sins, we must start where can, at home.

Primary Concerns

2008-01-03T22:04:00.000-06:00

Today is the the last day of the year. It is also the first first big day in the primary presidential elections. The Iowa Caucus. Of course there's a big hullabulloo about Obama and Clinton and Edwards. But around here we're all interested in Huckabee and Paul. Especially Paul. Not the apostle. Ron. There's never been a candidate like him. He knows all about why and how this country was founded, and where it should be going. He has the right answers to all the political questions. He's not corrupt. The list goes on. Of course supporters can justify his verbal slip-up that intimated the proposed canonization of the Constitution. But so what? What does it matter if this man gets in to office? Is he really the 'Hope for America"? I say not. Why? Because there is only one hope for America, there is only one Hope, period.

Why is there such a movement in the conservative Christian world for Ron Paul. It can only be because we hope to see this world turned over to the Lordship of Jesus Christ. But can that happen through politics or politicians, Christian or no? Can Ron Paul, through his pietism, recover the strong Christian heritage of our country? Can he bring down the ratings HBO gets on its raunchy shows? Can he stop teen pregnancies and abortions? AIDs? No, there is only One who can do that, just as there is only one way to the Father, Jesus Christ.

Our nation must repent of it rampant sin. It must acknowledge the present judgement of God. We must take personal responsibility for our sins. Fathers must turn their hearts to their Children. The church must repent of its bold-faced secularism. Politics must be reclaimed for Christ, but only as a result of a nation reclaimed for Christ. Ron Paul is not the hope of America. Until he realizes that he could be the worst candidate up for the presidential office right now.

Constructive Absence

2007-05-11T18:30:00.000-05:00

I have a very good excuse for not posting. Really I do. Give me just a second, it'll come to me... ah yes. I don't have internet. My lack of internet has to do with my lack of a phone line. My lack of a phone line has to do with my not paying to have it in my new house. My new house is why I don't have time to set up a phone line account. It's a vicious circle. Suffice to say I am busy and enjoying life. Remodeling this little beauty is keeping me from getting too horribly jittery about the upcoming life-changing event in 22 days. I have also discovered that it takes quite a bit of talent to be a bachelor (even if it's only for a month). Who else can cook a meal and two sides all in one pan on a camp stove, and open a tuna can without a can opener. That's right, nothing says bachelor like opening a can of tuna with a screwdriver and a rubber mallet.

For those curious minds I will have the house put back together before the wedding. We will not be living with a tarp for a living room carpet or cooking on a campstove after we are married.

Great Big Day

2007-03-30T18:45:00.000-05:00

It's not every day that I get to spend two year's income. But, for the smile it puts on Natalie's face, it's worth every penny. I am now the proud owner of 1100 sq. ft. of shelter from the rain, which sits on 5 acres of God's green earth. A kitchen for her, a front porch for me. Life is good.

Sodium Deficiency

2007-03-18T21:16:00.000-05:00

How odd to think that only a few hours ago I was eating a nice Sunday dessert with a group of guys conversing with Doug Wilson, 300 miles away. Okay, they were conversing. Believe it or not, I couldn't think of anything to say that didn't begin with, "I'm engaged, and I was wondering about..." Yeah, I've got tunnel vision. Go ahead, make fun. I'll be laughing along.

I had a great weekend at the Cornerstone Annual Theological Conference and Ball. But it was missing something. Like a great big feast without any salt. It may be good, but the whole time you know it could be better. It was like knowing a joke and not being able to share it. It was like being engaged and having to dance with other girls. It was very like being 300 miles away from your betrothed. But I did have a good time learning and fellowshipping with beloved bretheren.

And while I went around having all this fun and lamenting, my faithful bride-to-be stayed home and worked hard, as she has been working hard all along. She is faithful, and she brings me joy.

Dead Cats

2007-03-10T10:41:00.000-06:00

Laughter. Like the rustling of all the wings in heaven, moving in joyous accord of praise to the Maker. All because she laughs. God is good.

On a different note, I am stealing this awesome quote.
"But I don't want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.""In fact," said Mustapha Mond, "you're claiming the right to be unhappy. Not to mention the right to grow old and ugly and impotent; the right to have syphilis and cancer; the right to have too little to eat; the right to be lousy; the right to live in constant apprehension of what may happen tomorrow; the right to catch typhoid; the right to be tortured by unspeakable pains of every kind." There was a long silence."I claim them all," said the Savage at last. Mustapha Mond shrugged his shoulders. "You're welcome," he said. --Brave New World by Aldous Huxley

You say pathetic like its a bad thing

2007-03-05T22:09:00.000-06:00

Just in case all y'all forgot, I'm going to marry Natalie, a versatile and talented person. (In 89 days)
I think maybe it sounds like I'm over-simplifying things with my argument against "the-one". But, I think sometimes we lose that simple things can be glorious. Marriage is a simple, everyday thing. People have been doing it for eons. But Paul calls it a mystery. Perhaps we miss the glory because we've over-complicated the process. Christ chose His bride, is making her beautiful (bestowing gifts), is preparing a house for her, will return to enter the wedding feast, and will then proceed to lead His bride in service and worship to the King of kings. It is both simple and glorious. So I want to persue Him in my persuit of marriage, both in simplicity and glory.

The One

2007-02-25T18:28:00.000-06:00

You probably noticed in the little satirical story below the absolute disdain for the idea of looking for, "The One." This is the idea that God has ordained only one possible person for you to marry and that you must spend your life searching for that one. It is a mystical fairy-tale sort of search through the sand for a gemstone. That description sounds rather exagerated, but it seems to be a prevalent issue. While I believe God, in His soveriegnty, has ordained only one person who is right for each one of us, I don't think that implies we must search diligently until we find that one and get that peaceful, easy feeling somewhere inside. That is not what we are called to. We are called to faithfulness.
Marriage is about two people who have been living faithfully coming together and living faithfully. We are called, when single (a hideous word full of misconceptions), to live in obedience to the loving commands of God's word. Generally this results in marriage, in which we are called to live in obedience to the loving commands of God's word. When a single young man is living his life faithfully to God and finds a woman who is living her life faithfully to God and they search, under the supervision of all their God-given authorities, to find if they can live together in faithfulness to God, then they will know if they have found the one God has ordained for them. It is time for the young people of the church of Christ to grow up and realize they are emulating Him in their relationships. He is our One, our Bridegroom, and He has called us to love Him by faithfully obeying Him, wherever we are at in life.

Boy Meets Girl, or How It Didn't Happen

2007-02-25T17:50:00.000-06:00

Once upon a time there was a young drywaller named Micah. He spent his days spraying walls, alone. One day, as he sprayed a wall, Micah, who had gone to church all his life, finally gave his life completely to God. "Lord," he prayed, "Please show me 'The One'." In a very near approximation to immediacy the heavens opened, the angels sang, and the light shining through the window illuminated the sheet of drywall he had just sprayed. When he looked at it, if he tilted his head just right and squinted, he could read the word Natalie.

Micah knew this must be the name of 'The One', because he had just prayed about her. He cut down the sheet of drywall, hung it in his bedroom, and began calling all the local churches in search of 'The One' (whose name he now knew).

His search was made easier because of a list of specifics he had felt led to write down. When he had started the list he began to despair. All the good traits he was looking for were too much for anyone to match up to. Finally he settled for simple things, like hair, eyes, and the way her breath smelled.

It took Micah almost two weeks to talk to all the churches in the area, but he still hadn't found 'The One'. Finally, which was when all the good things in his life happened, Micah visited the last church in the phone book.

As soon as he walked in, Micah saw the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life. As he walked closer he could see a sticker on her shirt that said, "Hi, my name is Valarie". Standing beside her was another, shorter girl, whose sticker read, "Hi, my name is Natalie." Micah's heart jumped. She matched his list exactly, except that she was shorter than his hopeful 5'2". But he could fudge on one detail. He knew she must be 'The One'!

Natalie knew as soon as she saw Micah that he was different. She didn't know if it was his buck teeth, or the way his eyes were sunk back in his head, but he wasn't like other guys. She too had been searching for 'The One'. She had just gotten back from a trip, where she had gone to find herself. Neither of her friends had realized she was missing, but that was just like them. After she got back she spent her time reading inspirational books to help her be content with her singleness. She thought about learning to cook, but didn't feel that it would be "redeeming the time."

After they met, Micah and Natalie began going out and dating with a purpose. Natalie's parents had some qualms with this, but when Micah showed them his piece of drywall they knew they couldn't get in the way of God's will. During their courtship, Micah and Natalie insulated themselves from temptation by praying the prayer of Jabez whenever they were together. This also resulted in expanding waistlines, despite their gnostic tendencies.

Soon they were married. The story must end here. If it continued you would see how difficult their marriage was because they didn't understand the value of hard work, faithfulness, beauty, or covenant love. Eventually, after many hard years, they learned these things and lived happily ever after.

Happy, Distracting News That Might Knock Your Socks Off

2007-02-18T20:22:00.000-06:00

Up until now you all have known me as a tall, strapping, and brilliant single, young man. But I would like to announce to you that I have graduated. Yes, I am still a tall, strapping, and brilliant young man, but no longer can you attach to me the pronoun single. I am not. No longer will I bow down to the tyranies of those who lord their married status over me. No longer will I, like a foot, be walked on all day long, but like a head, full of hair with no signs of a receeding hair line, will flourish. Evermore I will stand and grow as a husband and father. I will, like the strong arm of Stalin, lead my red army to victory. All this to say, I am engaged to the most wonderful, Godly young lady, Natalie.

The White Darkness

2007-02-05T21:24:00.000-06:00

On a grey dreary day, the kind that causes little children to stare listlessly out the window, a cold, white darkness desended upon the unexpecting countryside. Weather, in a relentless fit of passion, spread her icy fingers over all the land. The forests, which had once stood as tall, regal sentinals, became distorted shadows of what they had been. Trees, bereft of their noble limbs, stooped, ready to seize the unsuspecting passerby. The land was filled with a chill that would persevere even when the air regained its warmth.

We will have reminders of the Southwestern Missouri 2007 Ice Storm for a very long time. No tree will be the same for years to come. But this is also a reminder of the grace of God. His grace in keeping us safe during times of peril, in providing shelter against the cold when our homes were without heat, in bringing us together as a body after seperating us for a time. In providing cold from which to be sheltered.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A curious few have been wondering where I've been. Before losing power for two weeks, thus being deprived of the wonderful world of internet, I was dreadfully ill. I had planned on taking a trip with a group from our church to a conference in Louisana. Instead I spent the time, and several extra days, layed out hoping to either recover immediately or go commatose until I could recover. Since then I have been trying to catch up at work and regain my strength and the fifteen pounds I lost. The decline in posts has not been over personal attacks, slights, or signs of dislike.

Paper Cuts Bleed Red

2006-12-17T20:53:00.000-06:00

Brace yourselves, and be prepared for seeming inconsistent reasoning. I would like to argue that online communities, such as this blog host, are cheap and fake imitators of a real blessing from God. I am not arguing against online communications or friendships. But the tendency leans toward taking this good thing and replacing an even better thing with it. Introducing online Church and Christian communities. You can stay in the comfort of your home (don't worry about cleaning), and fellowship with the body abroad online. The advantages are numerous. People can see you just as you are, with your fashion profile pic (the one with perfect hair), and the description you wrote yourself from the depths of your heart (the one that is deceitful above all things). You don't have to worry about being misunderstood as a sinner in need of grace, or having to forgive and forbear with one another. After all, friend lists are editable. And if your schedule is tight, don't worry you can download messages in real time, any time.

As Christians we are called to be friends and to be hospitable. We are to not 'forsake the assembling of one another together.' That is a physical command that requires getting out of our Lazyboys, starting the car in cold, and going to meet with other Christians. It doesn't take much effort to love someone who isn't anywhere near you. Effort is required of us. But it is not merely an effort of duty. We gather together in obedience and in joy. It is for our own good, and for the good of those we endeavor to share our lives with.

It is a mucky business getting to know other people. They are sinful, spiteful, and hurtful. They step on toes, and push buttons. And if we look carefully we see ourselves in them, and love them as Christ loved us. In the obedience, we grow in grace, and by the power of God, so do they.

Hospitality and fellowship in the here and now are blessings from God to build and strengthen the Church. Such tools and means of grace, when reduced to convenient and comfortable size, become a slap in the face of the Almighty Creator God.

He has pleased to call us to feast on real food and to fellowship with real people in a real world.

Now Thank We All Our God

2006-11-23T15:12:00.000-06:00

Now thank we all our God
With heart and hands and voices,
Who wondrous things hath done,
In Whom the world rejoices;
Who, from our mother's arms,
Hath blessed us on our way
With countless gifts of love,
And still is ours today.

-Martin Rinkart

God Loves Jazz

2006-11-11T21:55:00.000-06:00

Alright, time to lighten up a bit. Take a load off, take a walk, don't wear tan. The weather this week has been astounding. I love fog and overcast skies in the fall. The trees have been amazingly beautiful this year. The other day I was working and looked out a window to see a leaf storm. The oak trees all decided at the same moment to give up the ghost for the year. It was incredible.

Thursday was positively warm, and Friday started that way too. Thinking it was a trend, I neglected to pack a jacket on Friday. It got down below forty degrees by three. My boss was very happy when I had to work twice as fast to stay warm. In reality he loaned me a jacket.

But there is something about this time of year. Anticipating the holidays, grabbing a coffee for the trip home (yes, it's a trip), and getting to wear sweaters, scarves, and coats. It's jazz weather. It's like everything is preparing to rest. Or feast. I think it is feast and then rest. And yes, when nature prepares for a feast, it dances.

Wuthering Heights, a review

2006-11-09T21:35:00.000-06:00

When I began reading Wuthering Heights, by Emily Bronte, I was under warning from several sources that it wasn't worth reading for a Christian. It's too dark, it glorifies evil, it doesn't have any redeeming factors, etc. On the other hand, the book is a classic, it has stood against , and is a renowned example of good writing. So I read it.

Wuthering Heights is the story of Heathcliff, an orphan gypsy boy brought into a comfortable life, and those whose lives he affects. Upon being adopted he becomes a favorite, to the resentment of his new brother, and sister to a lesser degree. He goes through life getting anything he wants, until the father dies. The the brother's cruelty is unleashed. Heathcliff appears to bear it, until he recieves dissappointment and leaves, bitter and resentful. The rest of the story is seemingly a twisted tale of revenge and vengeance.

In reality, what I read was a story full of grace, though it may not be easy to see. The problem arises when we expect our grace to come in comfortable packages. The idea of darkness and evil are relegated to the devil and his cohorts. We will take our grace with sugar and cream, let the sinners have the vinegar. We lose a lot if we think of pretty things all wrapped in pink bows when Paul admonishes us to meditate on those things which are pure and noble. But, by affirming a disconnect between God and that which we call evil, we deny His soveriegnty over all things.

The Bible is full of dark things that would give us heeby-geebies and nightmares if we tried to understand them, and they are example of God giving grace. The life of King David's family makes Wuthering Heights look like Leave It to Beaver. Job didn't exactly walk through a bed of roses. The crucifiction of Christ was the darkest, most evil event in human history, and the most unfathomable act of grace. If there had been no fall in the garden, there would be no redemption.

Wuthering Heights looks at the effects of both indulgence and vengeance. The characters are all flawed, but somehow that makes it real. It tends to sting because it tends to touch home. It doesn't end in a nice comfortable way. Some don't get redemption like hoped, and some get it where it was unexpected. The book has its flaws, and it may not be for all, but I gained a lot from reading it.

Peace of Christ to You

2006-11-06T17:34:00.000-06:00

It saddens me when I find myself defending the importance of the Lord's Supper to other believers. How does the church lose sight of a gift from the Lord Himself for the unity of the body? The more I think and pray about it, the more clearly I see that it is because the church has lost sight of Christ as He is, seated on the throne of Heaven, at the right hand of the Father. Or, put more specifically, the more I study them, the more I see that sacrementology and eschatology are connected. When we partake of the Supper, we partake with Christ enthroned in Heaven ruling now, victorious over death and sin. We are not a huddled band of believers sneaking bites and piering around the corner waiting for the antichrist to kick us out. We are feasting in the midst of our enemies. I would be tempted to mock those nibbling on their crackers and sipping their grape juice once every four months, but I miss them dearly at the table. I urge them to come, not because it makes more sense and works better theologically, but because it offers peace. Peace of Christ to you.

Singing In the Rain

2006-10-28T11:31:00.000-05:00

I love the rain. I can even enjoy the mud. But must they both find way into my new truck?

Currently Listening: Stepping Out, by Diana Krall

That Which Stems from Cells

2006-10-21T16:39:00.000-05:00

I never thought much on stem-cell research before. However, as it is a big deal on the ballot next month, it has come into the cogwheels known as my mind. There are a whole schlew of moral and ethical problems here. The first is obvious, we are cutting into human life! Of course this can be rationalized. The eggs aren't fertalized, so it isn't life yet; it's just tissue, yada yada. I'll let that slide for now. After that they want to justify it by the surplus of embryos stockpiled from fertility clinics. I have a problem here, that goes beyond the moral/ethical fallacies of fertility clinics. Stockpiled surplusses get depleted. Then what? Then our wives and daughter get coerced into pushing their bodies through a brutal barrage of medical treatments to create and harvest the thousands of embryos required for stem cell research. It becomes as "necessary'' as giving blood, and embryos become a tradable commodity. Womens bodies become production facilities for the goddess Science, and the damnable greater good. After all, it just harvesting tissue from bigger blobs of tissue. I don't think Hitler could have thought up a plan this diabolic, or had it swallowed so easily. The American public is demanding it's right to a haulocost! If your worldview has no standard for morality or ethics, I guess that's okay. But we have a moral standard, we have a God, and He requires us to protect the innocent and fatherless, not to lay their necks on the butcher's block. We cannot prey on the defenseless in order to comfort the dying. I'm all for finding cures, but not at the expense of this sort of false dualism; one life for another. This is not the sort of self-sacrifice that Christ displayed, but a cultural cannibalism. In the height of our intelligence we are self-destructive. It is an amazing judgement that the very hand that slaps the face of God, God will use to plunge a knife into the heart.

Missouri Amendment 2 Initiative

2006-10-18T20:26:00.001-05:00

This is to let everyone here from Missouri know about this important topic. There is an Amendment on the ballot for the next election that is one of the most deceptive affronts on the sactity of human life, the ethical treatment of women, and tax ceiling attempted in this state. It is touted as the biggest pro-life battle ever fought in this state, yet very few Christians in the state know that there is even an issue. This is a big deal! If the bill passes, it will open unlimited goverment resources, without accountability, to research facilities and clinics, that will result in the exploitation of women and the desecration of human life (God's creation). For more info visit www.nocloning.com and www.votenotcloning.com. I encourage everyone who is able, get involved, and tell everyone you can about this!

Born. Again. And again. And again.

2006-10-07T00:10:00.000-05:00

There seems to be some confusion as to my birthday. I only have one. I just celebrate at multiple, random times throughout the year. Some would think this would result in more presents (more birthday celebrations = more presents). This has not been the case. I will also forgoe multiple celebrations, as it seems to be adding to my percieved age, which has had negative ramifications in the relationship department.

Also, to clear up another misconception, I am not addicted to coffee. I could quit anytime I want. Ironicly I don't want. In fact, I have no desire. Coffee is good. Coffee is very good. Coffee is... oh never mind. Seriously, I will not be controlled by anything other than the Word of God. Coffee is awesome, when used as a means of grace, a blessing from our loving Creator. When used that way, then it follows that it should be made to His glory. May I recomend the french press?

2006-10-05T22:42:00.000-05:00

For those of you who didn't know, I am very chic. But, after today, I am really very chic. That's right, I now drink coffee made in a French press (Google it). After spending the last weekend at my good friend Laurence's house, drinking coffee from his french press, black I might add, I knew, deep in my heart of hearts, I needed one. So I got myself one for my birthday (besides being chic, I am also very kind). So far so good. I am now looking forward to a long and hyper hobby of coffee parophenelia collecting.

Besides learning really cool ways to stay up late, I enjoyed the awesome fellowship over the weekend. And the work. There is nothing like working alongside wise men and good friends. Working hard. And eating good.

There was a wedding last weekend too. I think that had something to do with why we traveled 800 miles. Yeah, thats it. Went to VA for a wedding. Visited friends after. Maybe from the beginning....

Good friend, JL invited Donkey Boy and Me to his wedding in Bristol. DB desired to make a trip of it. So we went to the Outer Banks, NC (hence photograph). We went sea kayaking, parasailing, and boogie bording. We hunted seashells, visited gift shops, ate at quaint cafes and century old restraunts, ascended a lighthouse, and drove a lot. We were just two lonely-eyed boys in a pickup truck. We had a great time.

Then the wedding. It was beautiful. (For those who are interested, manly men can be obsessed with beauty.) The problem with weddings is that you don't get to visit with the bride or groom for more than 30 seconds, yet somehow it is worth driving 12 hours for.

We spent the rest of the weekend at Laurence's, including my birthday. There were good conversations, great beers, and sweet memories.

Pop Goes the Easel

2006-09-16T07:42:00.000-05:00

Drinking a soda the other day got me to thinking about pop culture (sorry Naddy). And, thinking about pop culture got me to thinking about pop culture in the church. It hit me how, just like the drink in my hand, you can find a fellowship in any flavor. The area I live in is full of churches that have inundated with pop culture. They have the bands, their pastor is professionally good looking, and they have large connectivity groups. Members can go and be entertained, be inspired, and get plugged in. The result that I have seen, though, seems to be socialization, and not fellowship. It becomes a competition of hairdos and shirt styles. You get thousands of Christians all together, and yet communion is still just a personal issue between you and Christ.

But we reformed are so much better. We can hide our shallowness. How tight can we wear our neckties? How somberly can we sing our psalms? In how many parts?

I think one of the greatest problems, for individuals, is that we come to church wondering what we can get out of it. One time a pastor friend of mine through me for a loop when he told me that his session asked prospective members what the they had to offer the church; what gifts did they bring to the table. I was floored. I idea was totally foriegn. But imagine what church would be like if all the members came to it wondering how they could serve. What if we chose our churches based, not on how the worship service made us feel, but on how compatible the congregation is to recieving the gifts we have to offer? That would, of course, mean having time to serve, but I'll leave you to search the scriptures on that one.

All Peoples, Clap Your Hands for Joy, psalm 47

All peoples, clap your hands for joy,
To God in triumph shout;
For awesome is the Lord Most High,
Great King the earth throughout.
He brings the peoples under us
In mastery complete;
And he it is Who nations all
Subdues beneath our feet.

The land of our inheritance
He chooses out for us,
And He to us the glory gives
Of Jacob whom He loves.
God is assembled with a shout,
The Lord with trumpeting.
Sing praises unto God! Sing Praise!
Sing praises to our King!

For God is King of all the earth;
Sing praise with skillfulness.
God rules the nations; God sits on
His throne of holiness.
Assemble men of Abrah'm's God!
Come, people, princes, nigh!
The shields of earth belong to God;
He is exalted High.

You Too?

2006-08-30T21:09:00.000-05:00

While the Cinnamon Free Unity Reformed Church consults their moderator (the honorable Dr. Phil), and throw eggs at one another, and the Pakastanian goat herders attend seminars on the effects of paedo-baptism on pre-lapsarian covenental thinking, I sit here wishing for a front porch for the enjoyingment of rest and the Porter in my fridge. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have discovered St. Anne's Public House.

Being Made Real

2006-08-26T08:21:00.000-05:00

As I grow older I find that miss one main thing, or envy it, of young people of other times and cultures. Myth. I did not grow up among dryads, fawns, or fairies. All the stories I ever knew were real. Blood ran through the viens of all my heroes. So, too, in time, they all became fallible. They were not big enough. They were real, like me, and so, like me, wer not true. Their virtues were admirable, even attainable. They really climbed the highest peaks, and proved that I need not try. My world got smaller. Then I discovered, among other wonders, elves. Elves are elegant and artistic, and they are craftsmen and warriors. They are immortal, unless they are in battle; they are only vulnerable in acts of bravery or treachoury. Elves are not real, but they are true. I can never fully understand or be an elf, but I can always aspire toward one.

And so I find that there is a constant battle between realism and truth, especially in religion. We find ourselves explaining how Jonah could survive, in not a fish but a whale, for so long. But the point wasn't the realism, it was the truth. Jonah sinned, was cut off, convicted, repented, and used by God. It is not that realism and truth are absolutely opposed. Rather, they are prioritized wrongly. Truth produces reality. If we pursue reality it is like trying to drink an ocean. It is too much for anyone. But to pursue truth is like swimming in the same ocean. You can explore it, be refreshed by it, never exhausting its reachesh, and it will make you real.

Similarly, our faith is one of symbols. Yes, they were and are real, but they are, more importantly, true. There are, in our tale, water, blood,bread, trees, wine, all part of the story of Truth. When we are wasshed in the water, drink the wine, eat the bread, and are faithful to the Truth, we become part of the story. We become part of the Truth. We are made real.

What this looks like fleshed out is always amazing. I have been blessed to know a few men whose lives are flesh and blood testiments to complete dedication to the Truth of Jesus Christ. They are not symbolized by a romantic obsession to some idealism or pragmatic sentimentalism. They are characterized by a whole-hearted, practical dedication to seeing the whole Word of God worked out in their every day lives. The are warriors and poets. They fight dragons by pulling weeds and teaching proberbs to their sons. They woo their fair maidens by dailing laying down their lives, as Christ did for the church, for their wives. They are fiercely ordinary men. They live and die, not for systematics, but for the law of God. It is in their hearts, on their gates, and they teach to their children as they walk in the way. It makes them real.

Running, really, really fast

2006-08-19T07:43:00.000-05:00

Sometimes people are induced to do crazy things. And then they love it (even if they fail miserably). And so it is that I joined the CTK softball team. Every monday we valiant few would march bravely onto the diamond, cheered incessantly by our adoring throngs (mostly my sisters). Sure, we could barely catch, and we could barely hit, but that's not the point, is it? Okay, so we got our cute little hinies thrashed, soundly, but we looked good doing it (thank you, exta hold hair gel). I mean... uh... that we had fun. Lots of fun. Plus there was usually lemonade, brownies, gatorade, or watermelon afterwards. I'd spend an hour being utterly humiliated for that, any day. Besides, we won one game (I haven't googled the word "forfeit" yet, but I'll let you know).

On to things I can do. It seems that dancing fever is catching on. I called two dances last month, and I'm getting ready for one next week, all outside my regular social group (church). This next one I'll even be playing some live music (while Donkey Boy calls). I guess I'd better get back to Mel Bay's "First Time Fiddler".

Guess Who's Back

2006-08-13T20:18:00.000-05:00

Always one to be on the cutting edge of scandal, I have left you all to wonder for the last months what I have been up to. I have no intentions of enlightening you now. But perhaps I will drop a note here and there to make you all scratch your heads and wonder what goes on inside this little brain of mine.

A day in the life of...

2006-04-20T20:37:00.000-05:00

Wow, I haven't blogged in a while. So, while the minion throngs cry for something profound, it may be good to note that while I didn't blog because I didn't have time, now I just don't have much to say.

Reading: Against Christianity by Peter Leithart. Thought provoking. Deals with the heresies involved in the view of Christianity as a strictly religious practice that doesn't effect social or political realms. Essentially, following his arguements, we have lost the "Church" as it should be. I'm in the section, Against Theology, right now. In it he argues for a more "organic" approach to the Christian life (a term I borrow from Doug Wilson). He points out that you cannot find words in theological books like (but not limited to) hair, blood, sweat, entrails, etc. Or, as one friend from church shared, our theologies and creeds should protect our the life within our church, not be that life.

Listening to: James Jordan. What can I say? Better experienced that shared. Good stuff.

Drinking: St. Peter's Creme Stout. Good in two ways. Reminds me of my good buddies up at St. Peter's Pres. Bristol, VA. The other is in the name. If you know what I mean, you know what I mean.

The weather has been marvelous. Last week we textured (uh, trained) six and a half houses (of, uh, pigeons) in five days. I now have a positively scandalous pic of myself one of those days, when the "pigeons'' were particularly, ah, thick. Sorry, probly won't post it. Somethings innocent eyes just shouldn't see. When its hot its hot and you gotta do what you gotta do to get things done.

Go see Pippin The Jedi. He belongs to our new pastor. The whole family's great to have around. Oh,yeah its nice havin' a pastor, too.

Death and Insurrection?

2006-04-15T17:25:00.000-05:00

Our good Lord and Savior told us that as the world hated and persecuted Him it would hate and persecute us. Shortly after those whose job it was to protect Him killed Him. There seems to be no little irony in the correspondence between the Easter holiday, and the Federal holiday, Tax Day. There is very little humor. While we prepare to sit and ponder the great gift of God in salvation, we must also ponder the great gift we are to volunarily calculate and donate to the gods of the land. While Uncle Sam probes our pockets, we will sit together and drink of something he can never touch. Eternal life. We can give to Ceasar what is dubiously called his, but he can never touch what our Lord calls His own. One day, perhaps a day you and I may not see, even Uncle Sam will bend his strong arm in adoration and service to the King of kings, presidents, and executioners in suits and ties. Until then we give him a clear example of how it is to be done. We remain faithful to the Lord of the faithful.

For kingship belongs to the LORD, and He rules over the nations.

Finally

2006-03-19T17:18:00.000-06:00

For those patient few, who have resisted the temptation to see this same picture at Donkey Boy's blog, here we are the Pella ball.

Mercy Comes Softly

2006-03-18T19:35:00.000-06:00

After sorrow, joy.
First the darkness, light.
Mercy comes softly,
Morning proceeds the night;
Wings anticipating flight.

Love, not unrequited,
Sweet sorrow telling,
"My face Will Be Hidden."
Tears, unbidden, welling,
While joy has found a Dwelling.

Covenant colors
Arch across the sky;
Faith unto the faithful,
Blessings upward fly.
Grace found, ever nigh.

Hope, undistaining,
Grief, itself, entombs.
Thriving, love and joy,
Spreading fragrant blooms.
Dispelling fears, mercy softly comes.

Paradise

2006-03-15T19:25:00.000-06:00

by George Herbert

I bless thee, Lord, because I grow
Among the trees, which in a row
To thee both fruit and order ow

What open force, or hidden charm
Can blast my fruit, or bring me harm,
While the inclosure is thine arm?

Inclose me still for fear I start;
Be to me rather sharp and tart,
Than let me want they hand and art.

When thou dost greater judgements spare,
And with thy knife but prune and pare,
Even fruitful trees more fruitful are:

Such sharpness shows the sweetest frend,
Such cuttings rather heal than rend,
And such beginnings touch their end.

This poet has so far amazed me with the truthful paradox that shows up in his style. The poem in particular I found inspriring.

Ryme and Rythm

2006-03-09T21:06:00.000-06:00

Thanks to Naddy's writings, and the tips from Naddy's Daddy, I've found some great old poetry books. Naturally, I turn right to the bloody, bravery stuff first. Enjoy the enstallment below. Found some great ones by Ben Johnson too, but that's another subject...

For those interested, the Pella ball went marvelously. I will try to post pics eventually. The trip went smoothly. We made some new friends, and found some we already knew. To top it all off we saw America's largest working Dutch windmall, and 2nd smallest Wal-Mart.

Bannockburn

2006-03-09T20:55:00.000-06:00

Robert Bruce's Address to His Army
By Robert Burns

Scots, wha ha'e wi' Wallace bled!
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led!
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to glorious victorie!

Now's the day, and now's the hour;
See the front o' battle lower!
See approach proud Edward's power-
Edward! chains and slaverie!

Wha will be a traitor knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha sae base as be a slave?
Traitor!coward! turn and flee!

Wha for Scotland's king and law
Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
Free-man stand, or free-man fa',
Caledonian! on wi' me!

By oppression's woes and pains!
By your sons in servile chains!
We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall-they shall be free!

Lay the proud usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!
Liberty's in every blow!
Forward! let us do, or die!

...A Sharp Dressed Man

2006-02-28T19:02:00.000-06:00

I got fitted for a tux for my very first time today. It was a first time experience. It is a nice tux, too. It's black. My brothers, Moose and Donkey Boy, also got fitted today. Their tuxedos are also black.
We got them for a dance we are going to be directing in Iowa (yes, the state). So that our partners will be able to tell us apart, we chose vests of different colors, with bow ties that match the vests. My favorite part, though, are the shoes. They are so shiny I can see myself in them. What's not to like?

Freed Will

2006-02-22T06:39:00.000-06:00

I work in a mostly christian inviroment, but I am the only "Calvinist." I am quick to point, that indeed I am not Calvinistic, but reformed, thus averting questions on following a man. But how, they want to know, can I justify free will (or human responsibility), with predestination. This can lead to interesting discussions. A lot of people don't get it when I tell them that we are free, and we predestinated. Period.

In thinking about it, I have determined that we are like ships. The law is like a map of the globe, while redemtion is like a rudder. Before the work of redemtion, we are ships with neither maps or rudders. These ships are free, they can hoist sail, or float in the tide, but they cannot know where they are going, nor could they easily persue a course, and they will often beach on a dry, lonely shore. Enter the law, a map, and redemption, a rudder. Now a ship can know where it should be, where it should be going, and it can do something to get there. In this is true freedom. The ship can make voyages, and port for replenishing. It is free to go north, south, east, or west, and to avoid rocky shores. The law, the placement of land and water in the map, is death to a ship with no rudder or redemtion, but it is life and grace to those who have been saved.

Crisis: Averted

2006-02-18T18:35:00.000-06:00

Always concerned for the mental health of mankind, I have taken solve one of the world's worst tragedies. Being the philanthropist that I am, I have also undertaken to test all my theories on myself before projecting them on the world at large.

That said, I turned forty last week. No, please hold the congratulations. I'm sure you're familiar with the idea of Double Jeopordy. Its the legal exception where a person cannot be charged with the same crime twice. In a breakthrough in the phsychology world, rivaled only by Pavlov's dogs, I have discovered a naturally occuring Double Jeopordy in human aging. No person can ever be the same age twice. So, my theory is that while I am young, I will use up the so-called mid-life ages, appx. 35-46. Then, when I am in mid-life, I can revert to my unused young ages, appx. 23-34. If my theory is correct, I will have effectively avoided a true mid-life, and, thereby, a mid-life crisis. So far, the hypothosis is working marvelously. Stay tuned for updates, but rest assured, a breakthrough has been achieved.

Valentine's Day... Alone?

2006-02-16T15:19:00.000-06:00

Yet another Valentine's day all alone. Or was it?
A lot of people wonder at my singleness. Especially some of my coworkers. Why is such a good looking (and humble) guy not 'involved'? Surely he just hasn't met the right girl yet! Que threats of introduction to all the most beautiful (and perhaps desperate) maidens in the region... It seems to blow many minds that I am waiting until I am prepared to enter into a relationship responsibly, able to persue it to its due and proper end (for those questioning minds: marriage). Egads! a guy who can look beyond the mirror. The very idea that their culture holds no draw on some astounds them.

Sure, I look forward to spending my Valentine's with someone. But I look forward even more to knowing that I hadn't spent it uselessly with anyone else.

Dragon Soup for the Soul

2006-02-14T07:10:00.000-06:00

I want to write about the sweetness of fellowship on the Lord's day (again). I would write about how, at the beginning of each week, I am refreshed and renewed, ready to go fight the dragons of the world. But I find, that by Saturday, it is as if I become the dragon I must conquer. I would start a noble Prince Caspian, but I become Eustace. But how much more appropriate can it get? How can I enter into the Lord's tabernacle unless I am ready to be made new? How can I expect to eat at His table, unless I am hungry? Drink of His cup, if I am not thirsty? How sweet is the taste of knowing that I cannot live without Christ living in me!

Oh, give thanks to the Lord, for He is good!
Because His mercy endures forever.

Anxiety laid aside

2006-02-12T21:09:00.000-06:00

There have been rumors and rumors of rumors running amuck among the upitty-up in the know, or not so, about the good folks in Bristol, VA. Doug Wilson has something to say that sets things for the curious to rest.

Maturing Without Growing Up

2006-02-01T21:10:00.000-06:00

Recently, while walking to the far side of our property and back, I was overtaken by an overwhelming sensation of... nothing. The significance of this non-rise of emotions is that I used to get the biggest kick out of walking in the pasture. I could spend hours in the wood, studying the wildlife, and generally wondering at the glory of God's creation. I derived emmense joy from nature, which I have found to be diminishing.

The same is coming of music. I used to be enthralled with bluegrass and country music. I am not here arguing their qualities, only that they brought me joy. What caused the joy was the simplicity of life they signified, especially the bluegrass, which I one time lovingly described as, “Everyman’s music.” As I have gotten older, I found myself coming away from these joys, seeking instead a sort of kick. I craved different things, yet it seems I was never satisfied. Pursued, it would have been a destructive trail. What I have found, as I have grown older is that I lose the joys I had when I was a boy, and even a young man. I would pursue the new and older, and ‘manlier’ only to find the happiness I sought to have been in what I previously had. Somehow, the joy I sought was in the more innocent pursuits of my earlier childhood. This, in my mind, goes right along with childlike faith that Christ commanded. However, at the same time Paul, inspired by the Holy Spirit of God, talks about becoming a man and putting away the things of a child. This presents a certain dilemma of maturing without growing up. I’m still working on this one, I’m not quite sure of all the workings. It entails responsibilities being fulfilled, but at the same time a playfulness. (I really enjoyed a talk given by Doug Jones on playfulness, which I would be happy to discuss in conversation.)

Interestingly, most of the ‘joys’ that fit this bill, of mature innocence, seem to be fulfilled with the local Church fellowship. Point in hand; this last Sunday many of us brought our musical instruments to church, and after lunch spent the afternoon jamming and playing hymns. There is an innate joy in making music with others, and that joy multiplies as skills mature. It is the same joy, increased with maturity. Yet there is no concrete purpose outside that joy. Granted, there are good applications, like the worship of God in heaven, but the pursuit of music, or any number of the arts, is not productive. It can be mature without being grown-up.

Rythmic Reclamation

2006-01-17T22:41:00.000-06:00

You have to read The Polyphonic Poet. This is how the church stays alive. Evangalism invites converts into the culture of our house, but we are too often content leave the walls bare. Steps are being taken to reclaim culture.

Hello My Friend

2006-01-14T18:11:00.000-06:00

Hello my friend,
We meet again,
On this blessed morn.

To eat and drink
And merry make,
Never more to mourn.

Come dance with me,
Beloved one,
In disciplin'd accord.

In rise and fall,
Give and recieve,
Show deff'rence to the Lord.

Let halls resound
With harp and voice,
Praises raised with skill.

While aged look
To see the young
Rejoice among the hills.

Well met, and glad
With you, my friend,
Upon this mount to stay.

The Lord is glad,
His people blessed,
On this, His sabbath day.

Sitting Amongst Giants

2006-01-11T07:43:00.000-06:00

There is nothing quite like being in the midst of a couple hundred men, joined harmoniously in unity of hymn and song. The uplifting prayers of these saints must surely be heard at that moment. But stronger yet is the Amen stated emphatically at the end of the hymn. It is a plea and appeal, let it be so. But it is also a proclomation and affirmation, it will be so. The prayers of the saints, however faltingly mumbled in the highest earthly forms will be translated to the throne room of heaven, and the case righteously pleaded by the great Intercessor. Amen.

So, I sit, participating, and then listening and learning. As I sit, I get to view things from the shoulders of giants. Men bring the Word of God, and as the Word it cannot go without returning having accomplished its purpose. There may be mistakes uttered, but the Word is there. I sit among giants. They are giants, however, because they understand their insignifigance. What is any man before the God of all creation? Infintismally small. But, as Christ taught, the least become the greatest. I sit among giants, I sit in the Church of Christ.

Blessed Fellowship

2006-01-10T06:36:00.000-06:00

In a constant persuit of adding to my 'visited states' list, I have proceeded, along with a number of folks from my church to Monroe, LA, for the Auborn Avenue Theological Conference. This it is focusing on the Church. While things are just getting underway, already we are spiritually encouraged and bolstered. It took eight hours or so to get here from MO, and what a blessed eight hours it was! Sitting there, reading C.S. Lewis, studying, mulling, and then, joy of joys, discussing ideas with each other. Not debating, not patting each other on the backs with indignant self-agreement, but fellowshipship, indeed discovering wonders about our Lord and Savior, that led the heart to worship Him. Indeed they were discussion whose natural end demanded worship and rejoicing in the one and only Lord and savior of the world.

Tagged

2006-01-06T20:49:00.000-06:00

Or, 101 things you never wanted to know about and were too afraid to ask. I have been tagged, not with one set of questions, but with two. Without further ado, here I go.
Set #1:

QUESTION #1: Seven things I hope to do before I die

-Memorize at least one Testament
-To learn to read the NT in Greek, and OT in Hebrew
-Go snowboarding
-Build a house
-Become Self-Employed
-Marry a Godly woman and raise a house of Godly children
-Write a book

QUESTION#2 Seven things I cannot do well:
-Car mechanics
-Organize my things
-Handle teasing
-Sing
-Photgraphy
-...Anything without a deadline
-Many things that I can do moderately

QUESTION#3:Seven things that would attract me to my spouse.
Her...
-Heart
-Liver
-Spleen
-Lungs
-Kidneys
-Pancreas
-Lymph Nodes
(We all know that true beauty is more than skin-deep, hence...)

QUESTION#4:Seven things I say often:

-Oh Gosh
-Shoot
-For real?
-...the subjective and arbitrary fashion of the psuedo-intillectual coffe-shop culture...
-Get outta town
-How 'bout them Card's?

QUESTION#5:Seven authors, books or series I love
-C.S. Lewis
-The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
-Charles Dickens
-Jane Austen (ha)
-LOTR
-Laddie
-Redwall

QUESTION#6:Seven movies I watch over and over again:
-Man from Snowy River
-Last Samurai
-The Patriot
-Kate & Leopold
-Count of Monte Christo
-Spiderman
-Master & Commander

QUESTION#7:Seven people I want to do this: TBA

Set #2:

QUESTION#1:
What is your favorite dance?
-Swing
or in Contra dancing
-Posties Jig

QUESTION#2
What would a perfect day be like for you?
-Gathering together with the Church, worshipping the Lord, taking His supper together, feasting, and dancing.

QUESTION#3
Name 8 of your quirks!
1. I drink lots of coffee
2. I have an insatiable appetite
3. I can eat like a horse and not gain a pound (I've tried)
4. I love hats
5. Ironically, I'm paranoid about my hair
6. I do very dirty work, and I love to be clean
7. I can't stand anyone to read over my shoulder, not matter what I'm reading or writng.
8. I have been within 30 miles of the East coast 5 times, and never seen it.

QUESTION#4
What was one of the most vivid dreams you have ever had?
-It was a recurring nightmare.

QUESTION#5
Quote your favorite childhood prayer.
I'm going to change this to bible verse, as I never memorized any 'childhood prayers'.
-"The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy. I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly." John 10:10

QUESTION#6
List 8 items that you would put in a time capsule to be opened by your great, great, great grandchildren.
1. A Bible
2. Wedding Photos
3. Autobiographies of my parents, my wife, and myself
4. A family tree
5. My favorite hats
6. My Sword and pocket knife
7. Tools
8. My wedding ring

QUESTION#7
List 8 things you do to relax!
1. Pray
2. Play my fiddle
3. Juggle
4. Run
5. Go for a walk
6. Read
7. Write
8. Call a friend

QUESTION#8
Finish these 8 incomplete sentences.
1. Some people think it is amusing when I.... turn swing moves into country jigs.
2. Compared to me, most women/men..... have more facial hair.
3. I get excited when..... Katie makes dessert.
4. I would like to make myself..... finish writing a short story
5. Mothers can't...... stand their kids being gone.
6. My friends dont understand why...... I speak in incomplete sentances.
7. I am confident that...... He who has planned the end has planned the means.
8. If people only knew how...... much freedom there is in the supreme soveriegnty of God.

Round Here We Stay Up Very Very Late

2006-01-03T19:32:00.000-06:00

I would like to see science try to explain my new year celebration. "The rythmic motion and cooperation of complex bio-organisms resulting in high levels of emotion-causing endorphins and adrenilins, lasting long past the solar cycle." Maybe I'll put it my own way. I danced the night away, and it was totally awesome. Of course, I wouldn't have been there had there not been a we. There was a plurality. We celebrated, we danced. The joy came in the origins of that plurality. We, Christian friends, brothers, sisters, came together to glorify our Maker through fellowship, feasting, and dancing. We worshiped our Redeemer, celebrating the unity found in our redemtion, revelling in the life in the gracious gifts of our maker, and making merriment together. It makes one glad that we are not a gnostic religion.

So, what do a bunch of young people, under the full blessing of their exhausted parents, do when they are full of celebration and persueing an antithetical culture? IHOP. The fun didn't end with the dancing. Several of us proceeded to the home of eternal breakfast, apparelled in our historic garb, to continue the persuit of fellowship. We created quite a stir, all walking in looking like half-worn rejects from the stage adaptation of Gone With the Wind. When asked how many were to be seated, we did not lie by replying "14, but we need room for 30." So, we sat, we talked, and we ate. Most of us even maintaned intelligent conversation until 3:30 (AM). We finished our evening (ha) around 4:30, and got home around 5. We decided not wait for the sunrise, as we had plans to make church. Our plans were succesful, and I even stayed awake the whole time (on three hours sleep). It will take a reasonable two weeks to recuperate, but there is reason to rejoice in the fatigue.
God has mercifully given life, which we remember with the coming of the new year. He has graciously given friends, with whom to celebrate His gracious gifts.

HSC Installment No.2

2005-12-17T10:30:00.000-06:00

The Highlands Study Center has a publication, entitled Every Though Captive. In times past, at the end of each issue was Dr. Sproul's "Chicken Report" a monthly update on his successes and failures in poulty production. This post is about how I made it into the Chicken Report.

As a student, living with the Sprouls, I had obigation to perform a certain number of hours' labor each week. The labor varied from chopping firewood to polishing the family van to taking care of chickens. By taking care, I don't mean the default assumption of feeding and watering. That was involved, and being the resident expert, my knowledge of poultry biology was inquired of not infrequently.

One day, Dr. Sproul approached me with a problem. He had five chickens, the first he had ever raised. He loved those chickens, but they just weren't producing. Something had to be done. Being his first, he didn't have the heart to eat them or kill them, but economics dictated their removal. Hence, my services were procured. I was to be the grim reaper, the one between them and their end: The eternal garbage can.

So, I set my face to my task, and proceeded to it in the cleanliest fashion I knew. I would grab one by the neck, swing it round and round, and snap its neck. A quick, clean, though dizzying, painless death. I had done three, and was proceeding to the fourth, when I heard an exclaimation to my right. There was the little Sproul boy watching wide eyed in wonder. At that moment I snapped the chicken, and to my surprise I found myself holding only the head. I looked, and there was the rest of the chicken running around the other side of the pen.

After that I was the hero of many stories, not the least of which was one installment in "The Chicken Report."

Dragons

2005-12-17T10:04:00.000-06:00

Not all dragons
are armed in scales,
With fiery breath
and thorny tails.

Not every knight,
is borne by a steed,
He is known by his heart,
and judged by his deeds.

Distinctions

2005-12-12T06:42:00.000-06:00

A bit of a sidetrack... I have beeen thinking a lot lately of church community and familial relationships. The question seems to come up, though, of indivuality. It is, of course, posed to avoid the impression of indivualism. How can I know who I am, if I find my identity in another entity? Am I not then defined by who, or what, I associate with? It seems difficult to focus on indivuality outside of indivualism. I cannot be obsessed with who I am, or I won't get any deeper than myself. Indivualism doesn't go anywhere. The body of Christ is made up of many parts. If I am a little pinkie toe, my distictiveness, the definition of my indivual being, is found, not in my pinkie-toe-ness, but in my being a pinkie toe on a foot on a body. If all I am is a cute little pinkie toe, outside of the body, I have lost definition and individualality. All the sudden I'm just another non-conformist. Paint it black. In a family, a husband is such only because he has a wife, a father because he has children. Indivuality is lost on indivualism. To look into myself to define who I am, I find only what I am; a supersized bundle of filthy rags. It is through the definition of who Jesus Christ is, and what He has done that we become dinstinct, because we are no longer alone.

Highlands Study Center, installment 1

2005-12-09T18:45:00.000-06:00

It seems that it might be of interest for me to write of my times as student at the Highlands Study Center. That it is a convenient source of blogging material is also rather handy.

Around October of 2002, I had been looking for a sort of discipleship program for a while. I had applied, and been rejected (although I was a 'prime candidate'), for Vision Forum's discipleship program. I had intended on applying again at Vision Forum, but they took a sort of sabbatical on the program. Around that time a friend told me about RC Sproul Jr.'s ministry, with the disclaimer that he is 'a presbyterian, and a bit radical.' Sounded rather interesting (we were going to a reformed baptist church). Having grown up listening to Sproul Sr., I was interested. I started reading on the HSC website. I liked this kind of radical. So, I talked to my parents, and I contacted Dr. Sproul. We had some questions for each other. After some email exchanges, mostly about myself, he told me that it sounded like my family was more presbyterian than most presbyterians. We arranged that I would come up shortly after Thanksgiving of '02.

I left home Monday, December 2nd, in a little brown 1988 Oldsmobile Cutlass, my family in the rearview. It was my first roadtrip away from home, alone. I was to call home every couple hours. That night I happened to find one of the only hotels in America that would give a room to someone under 21, but that's another story. I pulled up to the Sproul domain Tuesday afternoon, rather naive, a little lonely, and quite nervous. Dr. Sproul was kind, warm, funny, and quite interesting in shorts and calf socks. The adventeur had begun.

The Sands of Time...

2005-12-06T20:23:00.002-06:00

This week marks the 3rd anniversary of my term as student at the Highlands Study Center. I was interested to read Dr. Sproul's squiblog this week. I remember sitting on his couch as he shared with me what he wrote there. The look in his eyes, the excitement, the sincerity, as he told me I could indeed change the world. There I first began to understand that it is faithful living that God uses to accomplish His will through us, that heroism is only accomplished with a firm foundation of faithfulness.

I look fondly on my time as student. It is wonderful to look back and see the grace of God, and the events and people He uses to shape our lives.

Good Christian Men Rejoice

2005-12-04T18:27:00.000-06:00

Friday, as I was driving home, I came across the mother of all Christmas lines. It ran about 7 miles long. I knew there had to be something deeply philosophical about all this, and my mind began to wander. In all reality, there was a bad accident that caused the interstate to shut down in both direction for a collective 20 miles. This made my 45 minute commute almost 3 hours long. It did give me plenty of time to think about life, the universe, and everything.

There were several shoulder runners (those annoying folks who actually think they'll get somewhere by driving up the shoulder). The one that cought my attention was an older guy with a sticker beneath the driver's side window that asked the all important question, "Are you saved?" In a hurry to get to heaven, I guess.

I also saw a few houses all strung out with a couple million watts worth of Christmas lights, and those cute silohouettes of Frosty looking over the "Child" with longing eyes.

Already in a thinking mood, I put the two together: How easily our Christian witness is distorted, and the celebration of the Christmas season. I then applied one of the new words I've been learning: Antithesis. Here's my result.

The world has taken one of our most sacred holidays and distorted it almost beyond recognition, and Christians have complied on wholesale levels. So, good conservitive Christian consider pulling out all together. But I wonder if the Christian witness wouldn't be better served, if Christ wouldn't be better served, if we instead reclaimed Christmas. What if we studied and understood the traditions, the symbols of new life and love, and taught them to our children, and celebrated them with all our hearts. Not because the word does, not because we always have, but because God came down to earth, in the form of a man, to take on the sins of man, to redeem for Himself a people. Let the people of the Lord rejoice!

Let's Talk

2005-11-30T17:11:00.000-06:00

Our culture is inundated by communication. We are, it has been said, in the communication age. There are billions of words simultaneously flying through the air every second; over cell-phones and the internet. Everyone wants to be heard. The modern American dream is to achieve global fame. We all want our fifteen minutes. With our cellular phones we can force ourselves on any unsuspecting member of our social cliché, or anyone else for that matter. And not, with our recent discover of the wonderful world of blogging, we can present our undiscovered wisdom to the wide world. No, these things are not evil in themselves, but discretion must be used, and by and large, it is not. The whole world screams into the vacuum to be heard.

For our silly efforts to be known and heard by the world, our culture has blindly sacrificed many good things. Blessings have been abandoned for selfish desires. Those who seek fame are adored by the masses. But for adoration they often give up the love of a few close friends. Over the internet, points can be made, but seldom are we truly understood. In our efforts to be acknowledged we give up the opportunities we have to be known. We rave at the world, rebuking, scorning, and criticizing, but we are unable to achieve the proper end of those exercises: uplifting and encouraging one another. In broadcasting to everyone, we speak to no one. We communicate, but rarely do we converse. We, as a people, as the Church, have lost the gift of conversation.

The Church of Christ is a living organ, one body made of many member. How can that body function and live if there is no blood flowing through her? That blood is love, and it pumps, moves from cell to cell, person to person, largely by conversation.

Conversation is so much more than talking. It entails it, yes, as well as time, sacrifice, unselfishness, maturity, understanding, discernment, care, wisdom, and love. It is a weapon of war to further the Kingdom. It can help unify the Church.

We are to be know by our love for our brethren. How can we love them if we do not know them? How can we now them if we do not converse with them? He can we converse with the masses? Conversation is personal. It is a tool that we have been given to commune with one another, something we should greatly desire. Communion with the saints is a blessing. Communion is multi-sensual. We see on another, smell and taste (especially through the bread and wine of Christ), and we hear each other through conversation. All that we might know and love one another to the end of lifting up and encouraging, so that by grace we might imitate Christ’s love for, and communion with us, His bride.

That the people might give thanks

2005-11-24T19:51:00.000-06:00

A glorious, much anticipated, occasion finally arrived this week! Yes, it corresponds with the holiday, Thanksgiving. It has no name, but we spend four months preparing for it. In the end there is much gratification, as well as gratefulness. It is the Harvest of the Turkeys. It marks the end of the poultry growing season. And this year, it was marked with wonderful fellowship of the saints. I won't go into my morbid fascination with the end of turkeys, but it was a gratifying time. Today, we enjoyed the harvest of our labors, a 27 pound tom, dressed gloriously by my lovely sister, accompanied by various and sundry articles of palatable pleasures. As we sat around the table we enjoyed the blessings God has granted our labors in food, family, and fellowship. And there was much rejoicing.

Thank you Mr. Warhol

2005-11-17T22:08:00.000-06:00

When it rains, it pours. So, in light of the recent deluge, we have decided to hire a media director. Who'da thought turkeys could make you so popular. As it is, we have been covered in two newscasts (Monday, Nov. 14, one newspaper report, quoted in another newspaper report (between Tyson reps and big time turkey farmers), and used for a show and tell by two journalism students from MSU. Sorry, we're sold out of turkeys, but I will sign my autograph.

How many licks in a tootsipop?

2005-11-17T21:48:00.000-06:00

I had the opportunity, early this week, to get the answers to all of life's most puzzling questions. (42) For when I went to feed chickens, what should I find in the chicken pen but a long-eared owl? He was a rather grouchy sort, a bit uppity you might say. He puffed up like a big tom-turkey and hissed and cackled. It was a once in a lifetime experience, that I am likey to save to that I can exagerate it to my grandkids.

November Weather

2005-11-14T21:13:00.000-06:00

I should have grown up to be a storm chaser. The lightning in the sky. The thunder shaking the earth. The wind. The rain. The power! If you think a coaster is exciting, try driving inbetween three raging storm-centers. There is no controling a storm, only observation and reaction. The power of God in tangible form. Go ahead, mess with it! But one of my favorite parts of a storm is the peace afterwards. The grace of God in tangible form.

Psalm 107:23-31

Some went down to the sea in ships,
doing business on the great waters;
they saw the deeds of the LORD,
his wonderous works in the deep.
For He commanded and raised the stormy wind,
which lifted up the waves of the sea.
They mounted up to heaven;
they went down to the depths;
their courage melted away their evil plight;
they reeled and staggered like drunken men
and were at their wits end.
Then they cried to the LORD in their trouble,
and He delivered them from their distress.
He made the storm be still,
and the waves of the sea were hushed.
Then they were glad that the waters were quiet,
and He brought them to their desired haven.
Let them thank the LORD for His steadfastlove,
for His woundrous works to the children of Men!

Forward the Covenant

2005-11-12T15:15:00.000-06:00

Wine, feasting, dancing, and fellowship. The Kingdom of Heaven advances. The covenant continues. Two become one. Did I mention wine, feasting, dancing and fellowship? I know of few joys so strong as seeing two come together under the Lord, becoming one, with a deep understanding of all the significance and implications. When one of those two is a friend from childhood who you have watched mature and struggle and wonder and believe, the heavens surely ring with the joy! The faithfulness of God is breathtaking at times.
The wedding of my good friend Paul was a wonderful, and sobering occasion. It was approached with sincere faith, wisdom, and adoration. Speaking to the character of both the bride and the bridegroom, there were guests who traveled from both ends of the country, and some from Canada. Ironically, my family travelled the least (the wedding was in Tulsa). Much of the night was given to dancing. While I regrettably did not get to dance with the bride, I did dance with the groom's bother, Dustin's new bride, which was an honor. Dustin is one of my best friends, and the Lord blessed him with a glorious and honorable bride. That both young men have chosen brides of such quality speaks volumes of the honor of their parents, to which I willingly attest. The Lord is faithful to the faithful.

That takes guts

2005-11-08T21:00:00.000-06:00

Yesterday my family butchered almost 400 chickens and 16 turkeys, for to put in the freezer. It was a big day. But it was a blessed day. The best part were the 14 members of our church family who were gracious enough to come and help us out. It was a big party. Yes, a killing party (otherwise known as a spree). It was awesome to have the fellowship we enjoyed while working so very hard. There was singing (even on key), and laughing.
At the end we were all exhausted, but very satisfied. There is something gratifying about offing a whole bunch of chickens that have been bothering you every morning for the last eight weeks. I mean, taking dominion is very gratifying. Real chicken soup for the soul.

Taking Dominion

2005-11-08T18:37:00.000-06:00

The horse of Anna Purvis*
was a wild and wiley steed.
With mane and tail flowing,
The model of her breed.

The picture of serenity
When leisurely and idle.
But ev'ry man beware
Who brandishes a bridle.

Her hooves become like lightening
To me your ears do lend!
For e'en the best equestrian
She to the ground will send.

All the pow'rs she does own
She willingly will wield,
To bear any but her master
Down upon the field.

Heed this warning well
Oh, ye adventrous soul,
If you wish to see long days
And live them as a whole.

For in all my life long years
I have never met a force
So strong, wild, and terrible,
As Anna Purvis' horse.

*name changed for protection purposes.

Ici Je Suis

2005-11-07T21:49:00.000-06:00

I'm curious. If a word is typed and no one reads it, is it really pronounced the way it's spelled? I don't have a lot of relavent things to say all the time. But sometimes, late at night, when no one's looking, I have a thought. While I dare not say anything, for fear of my brother asking if I did it on purpose, I have to release the thing. I'm not trained in writing, not thinking, nor much of anything except working. But at least I can say I put my training in action. I live on my family's farm, and I pursue a very messy trade which leaves me looking like a windstreaked post in a pudding storm, or, as one friend put it, a mistrewn paper-mache' creation. When someone asks what I do, I just say I'm a pigeon trainer. Here I am.