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Showing posts from April, 2009

Can't Post Now . . .

I'm too busy reading Villette, Charlotte Bronte's final novel. Yes, it's as good as Jane Eyre. Charlotte Bronte was brilliant - her style more distinctive than any other English writer, her descriptions of emotion brutally precise. Stop reading my blog; read the book!

The Rest of the Fairytale

Once there was a girl who thought that God was a dark prince, mean and sneaky, and when she danced with him at the ball she was afraid. When he said "I love you" she didn't believe him, because she knew he just liked to tease and torture her, and how could he love someone like her anyway? She pretended to love him, though, so that he wouldn't put her in the dungeon. She even thanked him for the presents he gave her, even though she was afraid to open them - afraid a hideous insect would jump out and make her go insane.

This went on for a very, very, very long time - enough to make any man give up, but because He was God He didn't. Finally one day He took off His mask, and His face was so kind it made her cry. He was, in fact, the kindest, most honest, most gentle and loving person she had ever met or ever would meet. Everything He said was absolutely true all the time, through and through. And so they lived happily ever after.

Psalm 34, Selections

I sought the Lord, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears.
Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame.
This poor man called, and the Lord heard him; he saved him out of all his troubles.
The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him, and he delivers them.
Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the man who takes refuge in him.
Fear the Lord, you his saints, for those who fear him lack nothing.
The lions may grow weak and hungry, but those who seek the Lord lack no good thing.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

(NIV)

Modification of a Journal Entry

I've just realized that my fundamental sin is embarassingly childish. On some very early day (before my first memory), I discovered that by being "good," I could work around the obstacles in my world. I became an expert on avoiding pain, especially the pain of a command I didn't want to obey. (Sometimes, God's will leads us where we do not want to go.) If I had been honest with Him, we might have talked like this: Me: I want this (or that).God: You may not have it.And there things would have ended. But I did not want to admit the reality of my selfishness or the possibility that He might deny my desires, so I had to avoid the conversation entirely. I had to invent a different God, one who operated according to strange and manipulative rules. I had to turn my relationship with Him into an abstract, cosmic struggle, when all along it was really this: the Father commanding His child, the child saying "I refuse." Such a simple, everyday event--literally, fo…