Thursday, February 17, 2011
The Love of God
The love of God is greater far
Than tongue or pen can ever tell
It goes beyond the highest star
And reaches to the lowest hell
The guilty pair, bowed down with care
God gave His Son to win
His erring child He reconciled
And pardoned from his sin
When years of time shall pass away
and earthly thrones and kingdoms fall,
when men, who here refuse to pray,
on rocks and hills, and mountains call,
God's love so sure shall still endure,
all measureless and strong;
Redeeming grace to Adam's race--
the saints' and angels' song.
Could we with ink the ocean fill
And were the skies of parchment made
Were every stalk on earth a quill
And every man a scribe by trade
To write the love of God above
Would drain the ocean dry
Nor could the scroll contain the whole
Though stretched from sky to sky
Oh love of God! How rich and pure!
How measureless and strong!
It shall forevermore endure
the saints' and angels' song
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
I was asked to share a bit of my story yesterday, and as is customary, I got carried away. The words began in their falling, and as faithful as this morning's sunrise, that blessed gospel picked me up and wisked me off again.
I am always looking for ways of condensing that which is verbose and exhaustive in my mind, but rarely do I find avenues for treading as such. I still cannot fathom how perfect Light came to earth -- to save it -- and took on death, sin, and darkness to absorb the wrath which was rightly due me... I cannot understand this, but oh how I love it!
We were discussing copular verbs yesterday in class, and how they must always be followed by the object which they are linking to the subject. In jest, a student asked about the sentence "I AM," and with all due reverence (this was my perception), a stifled laugh, and silence, I believe we all sat in awe in our limited understanding of English Syntax, the rules of language, nature, and justice -- to consider in a flash He who came -- I AM -- self-existing, without beginning, end, ruler of all, Immanuel, God with us --
This statement could unroll a scroll I could not fill if all my words poured upon it, and my tongue unfastened forever in praise -- these two words are the summation of Creation, and all things seen and unseen, and I tremble to consider my finite understanding of such immeasurably glorious truths. I cannot consider this cruel and beautiful reality and leave unchanged. Hypocrisy would be to behold such radiance and allow none of it to be infused into my hideous, base, and broken humanity. Such dualities are the expression of heaven, and I tremble that such knowledge -- too wonderful for me -- is available, and freely given, without charge, without limit, and now, always, forever...
I am always looking for ways of condensing that which is verbose and exhaustive in my mind, but rarely do I find avenues for treading as such. I still cannot fathom how perfect Light came to earth -- to save it -- and took on death, sin, and darkness to absorb the wrath which was rightly due me... I cannot understand this, but oh how I love it!
We were discussing copular verbs yesterday in class, and how they must always be followed by the object which they are linking to the subject. In jest, a student asked about the sentence "I AM," and with all due reverence (this was my perception), a stifled laugh, and silence, I believe we all sat in awe in our limited understanding of English Syntax, the rules of language, nature, and justice -- to consider in a flash He who came -- I AM -- self-existing, without beginning, end, ruler of all, Immanuel, God with us --
This statement could unroll a scroll I could not fill if all my words poured upon it, and my tongue unfastened forever in praise -- these two words are the summation of Creation, and all things seen and unseen, and I tremble to consider my finite understanding of such immeasurably glorious truths. I cannot consider this cruel and beautiful reality and leave unchanged. Hypocrisy would be to behold such radiance and allow none of it to be infused into my hideous, base, and broken humanity. Such dualities are the expression of heaven, and I tremble that such knowledge -- too wonderful for me -- is available, and freely given, without charge, without limit, and now, always, forever...
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
I never know how to begin my words; thoughts huddle and fight to start, and as each pushes to the front, the other is crushed, and the one stretching farthest, bends and reaches upward, and out to meet you...
Last week I drove over the dam, only to find the moon suspended like a scoop of lemon, fading into a melted hue of pale. Her shape was strange, and her luster was muddled and eery as it spilled onto the reflected water. She seemed odd and comforting, but nothing more as I drove along.
The next night I left work vexed, and went again looking for the moon. The speckled vault was bent and boundless overhead, but that lustrous sliver was tucked away, and not even the denim sky had stains or splashes as a remnant of her light. I knew she must be there, I just could not see her.
Each day hereafter has been a fold in this patterned analogy, and the afterglow of night's lessons are gilding the fleeting moments that tend to drop in loss at the parting of a day.
The night after I couldn't find the moon, I was driving through the city at dusk. I imagined all of the cars, buildings, trees, and asphalt as one dimensional, and at once, in Light, all was rolled up, blazed, and gone. Suspended were the souls, and that Ineffable, Effulgent, Radiance that will dissolve the contents of the universe in a word--was upon us all.
My mind untucked the moon, and while her evasive stunts had left her unseen, her presence was sure. Analogies began sifting, and the words "all the vain things that charm me most" rolled down my mind and out my eyes at the thought of it all. All which I am to live for, is that which I cannot see, and as sure and faithful as the moon, sun, stars, and sky are to me, they too will be removed and cast aside. It is beyond them where truth lies, and they are the simple signposts intended to direct my faith eyes to the unchanging, unseen, and immutable truths that uphold this crazy world.
I hearken to you reader, for your soul, like mine--is daily given to something; be it the fleeting distractions that affix innocently to our eternal souls, or the indestructible and incorruptible that will lead us blameless into glory; at all times we are laying foundation for something. Faith is to give sight while on this sod, and her clarity dependently waxes and wanes as our moments unfold in the expression of our souls. There is so much more to this, but I am late for work... Richest blessings to all...
"Behold, I tell you a mystery; we will not all sleep, but we will all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet; for the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For this perishable must put on the imperishable, and this mortal must put on immortality." (1 Cor. 15:51-54).
Last week I drove over the dam, only to find the moon suspended like a scoop of lemon, fading into a melted hue of pale. Her shape was strange, and her luster was muddled and eery as it spilled onto the reflected water. She seemed odd and comforting, but nothing more as I drove along.
The next night I left work vexed, and went again looking for the moon. The speckled vault was bent and boundless overhead, but that lustrous sliver was tucked away, and not even the denim sky had stains or splashes as a remnant of her light. I knew she must be there, I just could not see her.
Each day hereafter has been a fold in this patterned analogy, and the afterglow of night's lessons are gilding the fleeting moments that tend to drop in loss at the parting of a day.
The night after I couldn't find the moon, I was driving through the city at dusk. I imagined all of the cars, buildings, trees, and asphalt as one dimensional, and at once, in Light, all was rolled up, blazed, and gone. Suspended were the souls, and that Ineffable, Effulgent, Radiance that will dissolve the contents of the universe in a word--was upon us all.
My mind untucked the moon, and while her evasive stunts had left her unseen, her presence was sure. Analogies began sifting, and the words "all the vain things that charm me most" rolled down my mind and out my eyes at the thought of it all. All which I am to live for, is that which I cannot see, and as sure and faithful as the moon, sun, stars, and sky are to me, they too will be removed and cast aside. It is beyond them where truth lies, and they are the simple signposts intended to direct my faith eyes to the unchanging, unseen, and immutable truths that uphold this crazy world.
I hearken to you reader, for your soul, like mine--is daily given to something; be it the fleeting distractions that affix innocently to our eternal souls, or the indestructible and incorruptible that will lead us blameless into glory; at all times we are laying foundation for something. Faith is to give sight while on this sod, and her clarity dependently waxes and wanes as our moments unfold in the expression of our souls. There is so much more to this, but I am late for work... Richest blessings to all...
"Behold, I tell you a mystery; we will not all sleep, but we will all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet; for the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For this perishable must put on the imperishable, and this mortal must put on immortality." (1 Cor. 15:51-54).
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
George Winston - Valse Frontenac
George Winston is a native Montanan, and this song is on his "Montana, a Love Story" album. I have been drawn by its solemnity and simplicity, and it seems to speak as deeply to sorrow as to joy. I hope it fills you some.
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