- for Internet anonymity.

moving to a blog address that does not have my name in it.

Also I deleted my Facebook. Sweet freedom.

O GOD of holiness and redemption:

I have not proclaimed thee as I ought with my life.
I have allowed the world’s offerings to occupy my desire instead of thee;
given place to the devil,
acted as though I were God,
valued myself above others,
squandered the resources thou has placed in me for thy glory,
and ignored Scripture warnings against all of these things.
I have been lazy, when Thou hast called me to work;
apathetic, when thou demandest passion,
cheerless, when thy mandate is joy,
sinful, when Thou requirest holiness,
indecisive, when thy call is to single-mindedness.
Let me see the attractions of this world as fruitless,
and so be drawn to the lasting benefits of Thy Son;
let me see His righteousness as deserving of lifelong servitude
and thus be drawn away from the emptiness of life’s pleasures.
I appeal to thee, O Lord: Open mine eyes.
As thou givest sight, so only shall I see.
As thou grantest repentance, O Lord, so only shall I repent.
As thou changest hearts, so only shall mine be changed
from the heart of stone which I have cultivated against thee
to the heart of flesh which thou offerest me in exchange through Christ.
Grant that his strength may atone for my weakness,
his labour for my passivity,
his joy for my doubt,
his holiness for my iniquity,
his death for my life.
O God, be merciful to me, a sinner;
turn away thine eye from the depths of mine iniquity,
and behold instead thy Son, crucified in my place.
Have mercy on me according to thy lovingkindness,
blot out my transgressions according to thy abundant mercy,
and impart unto me thy righteousness according to the work of Christ alone.
Occupy my desire, O Lord:
let it ever be only unto thee,
that I may enter into the fullness of joy
which thou hast prepared for them that love thee.
Lord, purify me for Jesus’ sake.

Jesus, I my cross have taken,
All to leave and follow Thee;
Destitute, despised, forsaken,
Thou from hence my All shall be.
Perish ev’ry fond ambition,
All I’ve sought or hoped or known;
Yet how rich is my condition!
God and heav’n are still mine own.

Let the world despise and leave me;
They have left my Savior, too;
Human hearts and looks deceive me;
Thou art not, like them, untrue.
O, while Thou dost smile upon me,
God of wisdom, love and might,
Foes may hate and friends disown me;
Show Thy face and all is bright.

Man may trouble and distress me;
‘Twill but drive me to Thy breast.
Life with trials hard may press me;
Heav’n will bring me sweeter rest.
Oh, ’tis not in grief to harm me
While Thy love is left to me;
Oh, ’twere not in joy to charm me
Were that joy unmixed with Thee.

Go then, earthly fame and treasure;
Come, disaster, scorn, and pain.
In Thy service, pain is pleasure;
With Thy favour, loss is gain.
I have called thee ‘Abba, Father’;
I have stayed my heart on Thee.
Storms may howl, and clouds may gather;
All must work for good to me.

Soul, then, know thy full salvation;
Rise o’er sin and fear and care
Joy to find in ev’ry station;
Something still to do or bear.
Think what Spirit dwells within thee,
Think what Father’s smiles are thine,
Think that Jesus died to win thee;
Child of heav’n, canst thou repine?

Haste thee on from grace to glory,
Armed by faith, and winged by pray’r.
Heav’n’s eternal days before thee;
God’s own hand shall guide us there.
Soon shall close thine earthly mission;
Soon shall pass thy pilgrim days;
Hope shall change to glad fruition,
Faith to sight, and pray’r to praise.

- Henry Lyte

David is fascinated with John Adams.
Tim is talking of manly things with Mark.
John is hopefully setting Mark an example of discernment.
Laura is rough and tumble.
Susannah is beautiful.
Mom is wise.
Dad is funny.
I am home.

There’s music in a raindrop’s pearly frame,
And from the gaunt austerity of snow
Each shining crystal twinkle has a name.
A tree casts wisps of light to laugh below,
While summer’s sun is smiling down each day,
Then letting it in autumn glory glow,
Until its joyous garment slips away.
There’s mirth in bugs and spiders of the grass,
And with the grumpy crab out in the bay.
The south-bound birds are singing as they pass,
And laughter crowns the waves against the coast.
Their song is one that we forget too fast:
Outshining far the sun and starry host,
The little things are where He shines the most.

LORD, high and holy, meek and lowly,

Thou hast brought me to the valley of vision,
    where I live in the depths but see thee in the heights;
    hemmed in by mountains of sin I behold thy glory.

Let me learn by paradox
    that the way down is the way up,
    to be low is to be high,
    that the broken heart is the healed heart,
    that the contrite spirit is the rejoicing spirit,
    that the repenting soul is the victorious soul,
    that to have nothing is to possess all,
    that to bear the cross is to wear the crown,
    that to give is to receive,
    that the valley is the place of vision.

Lord, in the daytime stars can be seen from deepest wells,
    and the deeper the wells the brighter thy stars shine;
Let me find thy light in my darkness,
    thy life in my death,
    thy joy in my sorrow,
    thy grace in my sin,
    thy riches in my poverty,
    thy glory in my valley.

Why am I so fickle and changeable? Why do I slip so easily from fascinated thoughts, cheerful memories and larger perspectives to the accursedly narrow and inward-spiraling funnel of my own shrinking self, bad decisions and fumbled opportunities and all? Why are my failures so powerful?

Don’t get me wrong; I knew today wouldn’t be easy. I was aware since before I went to sleep last night that every step forward I took today would be ground gained against the Everest of defeat that’s trying to make each step my last. Most of the day actually went all right, because I focused on other things. I ignored the elephant in my mind’s room and thought grand thoughts about my career and future, pretending it would be all right, security-blanketing myself into thinking that one can move on; one can forget; one can be different.

Somebody once said that what you don’t know won’t kill you. He was right: in fact the things I don’t know are my friends and companions, my solaces and playfellows. Whoever that anonymous sage was might well have added that the converse is also true: what you do know will kill you, as it’s killing me.

I guess I never realized what I did to myself until a consequence showed up. I lobbed a bunch of grenades into the future and one of them just arrived, as I couldn’t have helped knowing it would. I wonder when the others will land and whether I’ll survive them. I wonder whether I’ll survive this one.

People don’t see me for who I am, but inanimate objects do. The lamp stares at me accusingly and the cup of tea is disgusted that I have to be the one drinking it. The book I used to own and just replaced remembers everything, and is ashamed of me. The piano is distrustful and stubborn. The bathroom mirror is particularly vengeful. Even the date on the page mocks me.

I can’t ask anyone why. I can’t blame anyone. Jacob bought Esau’s birthright for some soup, but he still had to go and steal it from him later. Fate is pretending that this bottomless pit I fell into doesn’t have anything to do with that chasm of failure I carved out back then, but I can see she’s lying. It is her exquisitely sweet revenge that I should land in a prison I made myself. I guess I cheated her once too often.

I can’t go back there, because I know the horrible self-loathing of that life, but I can’t move forward either, because I forged the chain that’s locking me to the damage I caused. There isn’t an out. And yet if my past weren’t so explicitly tied to my future there might have been one. Today I am reminded that there isn’t. Nobody goes unpunished in this life, whether or not they’re secured for the next. What goes around must come around.

I wish the medication of mystery could have been more effective. The secret wonder of the unknown haunts me. I was drawn into something larger than myself today. I really was. I wish it could have lasted longer. No adventure is possible without mystery. We humans try to know everything and then wonder why we’re not enjoying life. We think the consummation of our existence will be the day we don’t have to exert ourselves anymore, when all mysteries and unknowns are solved and known and we can truly live. Once we get there we discover that there is no life left. No adventure is possible without wonder; and a human who is never surprised will never know what being human is. We were designed to be inadequate, so that our joy would be in pondering what we didn’t know.

Yet today it was again what I knew that distracted me from what I didn’t. I wish I knew even less. Maybe my world can become so big that my mountain of destructive self-awareness can become a speck and vanish. But all it did tonight was grow until it blotted out the sun.

Sometimes I look at people walking about on the surface and laugh at all the things they don’t know; then I remember that they are the free ones and I’m the one with the chains. Then I remember that I won’t ever be one of them, even if they all think I am. I wonder how many of them are down in here with me. At least one of them is.

I’ll ask if there is a future, but I’m talking into the mirror, and the mirror is the past, and he won’t know. I’ll ask if anyone will ever see what I’m seeing as I stand there, despite the horror of even considering that that could happen. Then I’ll remember that the only person who ever saw me for who I am wound up in here too.

Wait, no, two people.

Then I’ll cry.

By Eric Ludy

Not far behind the ship of Ulysses came another great ship. These sailors also realized the dangers of the Sirens and the rocks upon which they sat.

“Captain Orpheus,” the first mate enthusiastically declared, “the sweet song of the Sirens lies just ahead!”

With that announcement, the crew cheered and the great Orpheus smiled. All around the ship, crewmen’s voices rang with excitement. The part of the voyage they longed for was soon at hand. In fact, there were some on the ship who had come along just to hear the music.

With a knowing smile, the dauntless Captain received a beautifully adorned case from his cabin boy. The acclaimed Orpheus carefully removed the priceless instrument as the crewmen stood nearby with bated breath. Then, with princely grace, he lifted the instrument above his head with a gesture of victory, while the crew around him whistled with enthusiasm.

“Play it, Captain!” cheered the helmsman.

“Come on, great Captain Orpheus, play it!” whooped the enthusiastic first mate.

All eyes were transfixed upon their hero. Captain Orpheus took his stance and began to masterfully play the most perfect music men’s ears had ever heard. Each crewman became lost in the reverie of the song.

All too soon the Siren coastline was out of sight and the Master musician concluded the song that he himself had composed. Not a single man aboard ship was tempted by the Sirens’ melody. In fact, no one even noticed it. Though the mermaids’ music was alluring and sweet, the superb Orpheus played for his crew… a sweeter song.

Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations.
Before the mountains were brought forth,
or ever you had formed the earth and the world,
from everlasting to everlasting you are God.

You return man to dust
and say, “Return, O children of man!”
For a thousand years in your sight
are but as yesterday when it is past,
or as a watch in the night.

You sweep them away as with a flood; they are like a dream,
like grass that is renewed in the morning:
in the morning it flourishes and is renewed;
in the evening it fades and withers.

For we are brought to an end by your anger;
by your wrath we are dismayed.
You have set our iniquities before you,
our secret sins in the light of your presence.

For all our days pass away under your wrath;
we bring our years to an end like a sigh.
The years of our life are seventy,
or even by reason of strength eighty;
yert their span is but toil and trouble;
they are soon gone, and we fly away.
Who considers the power of your anger,
and your wrath according to the fear of you?

So teach us to number our days
that we may get a heart of wisdom.
Return, O LORD! How long?
Have pity on your servants!
Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love,
that we may rejoice and be glad all our days.
Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us,
and for as many years as we have seen evil.
Let your work be shown to your servants,
and your glorious power to their children.
Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us,
and establish the work of our hands upon us;
yes, establish the work of our hands!

Psalm 90

Our God is a God who saves.