My wife has a favorite speaker who once talked about the concept of Home. We seem to be a race that is ever searching, or ever consuming, finding satisfaction only with great will power. We have an unfilled longing that none of us can seem to place. He holds that it is the want for Home. Not meaning the residence we all have, but a true home. A place of peace and contentment.
The first thing that comes to mind is that I hate it here. Not this house, not this state, not even really this country (hard to believe), but this planet, this life. Every single thing about it rings out of decay and has the taint of death that first wafted in from the Garden. And not just in the final sense of shuffling off this mortal coil. Look deeper and you find the ugly stain of it all in every single persons every single action. There is no move that we can make without its foulness touching on what we do as well. No matter the good deeds we do. Even the selfless acts we create here have the thread of ugliness attatched to them. We cannot escape it. Our kindness is double faced, our strength is undermined to the point of collapse, our sweet words are laced with selfishness and ulterior motives.
And even those who, for a few brief seconds achieve something that is truly pure on this earth, the world rushes in like a hungry animal to consume them, and blacken thier nobility. Monks who saught enlightenment and peace in the East are dogged by attackers so that they change thier peaceful nature into a martial art of self defense. But their origional principles are aldready tainted. A new prophet comes to the dessert to show his beloved people a new way to be free and seek the spirit of God. But his work becomes utterly corrupted as his followers seek power over all others using his words. The followers of Christ, who for so long faught the persecution of the Romans preaching the non violence of turning the other cheeck, eventually launch (and continue today) the bloodiest wars the world has ever known.
Where are the peacemakers? Who is left to inherit the kingdom of Heaven? Who still wishes and longs for Home so much that they are willing to give everything up to bring just a peice of it here to this earth? They are gone. Poisoned by the tragedy that is this world. Brought low by the petty things that we make our selves believe are so direly important. Ever trying to fill the void left in us, the void that our avarice created.
There are Roads to take us home, to a place where we Belong...
We don't belong to this place. This world. This cruelty that must be endured. We are meant for Home, and that is where we are bound.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Two Hamburger Steaks and Five Salads
I hear our Lord and Saviour also enjoyed a good Bubba Burger...
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Monday, April 17, 2006
Friday, April 14, 2006
Psalms
Consecrated
Take my moments and my days; let them flow in ceaseless praise
Take my hands and let them move at the impulse of Your love
Take my feet and let them be swift in work and never tiring
Take my voice and let me sing, always only for my King
Take my lips and let them be, filled with messages from You
Take my will and make it Yours, let it be no longer mine.
Take my heart it is Your own, stay upon it as your throne.
Take my love, My Lord, I pour at your feet all that it stores.
Take my self and I will be true, ever, only all for You.
Ever, only all for you
Ever, only all for you.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Illustration Friday
This is WhoreHey my snail. The day that the subject for I.F. came out I changed the water in my bowl and he was doing this wierd stretch thing as I was reading. It was like he was going, "Oooh! Draw me! Look what I can do!"
And really he and ManWell really do go pretty fast... I mean, for snails...
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Friday, April 07, 2006
Effin' People
my friend who has lived in her area longer than i have in mine was saying the other day that it is hard to make friends. AND IT IS. Good friends i mean, er rather, worthy friends. I know that might sound arrogant, but there are a lot of shlubs out there. More than that though sometimes it is just nigh impossible to BREAK into an already "established" group. Stinking cool kids...
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Revival
Carl Bart once said of Hitler that, were he to meet him, the verse he would quote would be, "For yet, while we were still sinners, Christ died for us."We repent not in order that we may be forgiven, but because we are already forgiven. Forgiveness does not hinge on our return, like the prodigal, but is given to us before we even alter our lifestyle.
There was a prayer strapped to the dead body of a woman who died in a gulag during the Russian holocaust that read, "Don't let these me be condemned for what they did. Instead let the good fruits that our lives have borne pay their way into Paradise."
can we comprehend that kind of forgiveness?
Pray with your wanderings...
All have sinned and missed the mark, the center...
Behold the Lamb, who takes away sin...
Come to me and I will give you rest...
Add my yoke to yours, two yokes, not 0 burden, but a heckavah lot easier...
Brothers
There were once two brothers, Aman and Fazier, who lived in the country--far away from the cities. There, they shared what had been there father's farm and grew figs and grapes and olives.
They not only shared the land but they shared also in the work of one another's farms, and because of that both farms prospered. If one needed a tool, the other would gladly lend it. If one needed help with harvest the other's family would all pitch in together.
In the middle of the farms there was a great clearing where the two families would meet for grad suppers at harvest time to celebrate their life and the wonderful farm that their father had blessed them with. The brother's would sit, side by side at the head of the great table and lead the family in prayers and toasts.
Then, for a reason that no one knows for sure, a terrible rift began to grow between the hearts of the brothers. Maybe one borrow a tool too long, maybe one could not help the other in time of need, but whatever the reason bitterness and resentment began to grow strong within them.
Before too long, the brothers no longer would even speak with one another. In fact the older brother drew a great furrow in the earth between the two farms. He wanted the separation between them to be known to the other.
Then the younger brother took it one step further. He paid men to divert the waters from a nearby river to drive itself into the furrow. Before long, a great and turbulent creek grew between the two farms.
The harvest came and went that year, and even though the wives and children of both brothers worked long and extra hours it was not as plentiful as it had been. Also the children missed seeing their cousins and celebrating with them at dinner. But the table was stored away, grey from disuse, and neither brother would listen to his wife's council for making peace. Their hearts were like stone, and their minds were stubborn and filled with pride and the hurt that each had caused the other.
The next spring as the creek swelled the elder brother was visited by a carpenter. He asked if the brother had any odd jobs that needed done in exchange for lodging and food for a few days. The brother considered and then cam up with a grand idea.
There was old wood being stored in the barn, part of it was the enormous harvest dinner table, and the brother told the carpenter that he would like to have a fence built all along the creek. So high that he wouldn't even have to look at his younger brother's fields ever again. The carpenter agreed.
For many days the brother saw the carpenter laboring in the clearing next to the creek. Sawing, planning, and preparing the wood. Nothing was built, but this was work that needed to be done so that the fence would be strong and stay for many years.
The next day the older brother told the carpenter that he would be going into town to buy extra spring seed, and would be gone for three days. The carpenter said that he would be nearly finished by then, and that the brother could inspect his work on his return. The brother agreed.
Three days later the older brother returned, and was imagining his wonderful fence, when, as he came up to the house he saw, not a fence, but an enormous bridge.
Cursing the carpenter under his breath as he marched out to the bridge the brother was furious. How dare that carpenter do something like this, who was he to disobey the orders of the one who was employing him. As he stormed out to the center of the bridge, his anger a storm around him, he turned to face his own property, looking for the carpenter.
Suddenly behind him a voice called out his name, so loud it made him jump before he recognized it. It was his younger brother. Before he could say anything in response he was dumbfounded as his brother broke into a run and hurried to the bridge. He saw that his brother's face was wet with tears. He charged his older brother with a thick embrace. His voice cracked with chokes as he asked his brother to forgive him, to thank him for showing that he still cared by having this bridge built.
In a rush of emotion the older brother's heart broke as well. He returned the embrace of his brother, and with his own tears confessed that he could not place the anger he had felt, that he could not come up with the reason for it. That he had missed his brother so very much over these years. Their families, who had been watching from their houses on either side were amazed.
That night, they feasted at a new table, right in the middle of the bridge.
They not only shared the land but they shared also in the work of one another's farms, and because of that both farms prospered. If one needed a tool, the other would gladly lend it. If one needed help with harvest the other's family would all pitch in together.
In the middle of the farms there was a great clearing where the two families would meet for grad suppers at harvest time to celebrate their life and the wonderful farm that their father had blessed them with. The brother's would sit, side by side at the head of the great table and lead the family in prayers and toasts.
Then, for a reason that no one knows for sure, a terrible rift began to grow between the hearts of the brothers. Maybe one borrow a tool too long, maybe one could not help the other in time of need, but whatever the reason bitterness and resentment began to grow strong within them.
Before too long, the brothers no longer would even speak with one another. In fact the older brother drew a great furrow in the earth between the two farms. He wanted the separation between them to be known to the other.
Then the younger brother took it one step further. He paid men to divert the waters from a nearby river to drive itself into the furrow. Before long, a great and turbulent creek grew between the two farms.
The harvest came and went that year, and even though the wives and children of both brothers worked long and extra hours it was not as plentiful as it had been. Also the children missed seeing their cousins and celebrating with them at dinner. But the table was stored away, grey from disuse, and neither brother would listen to his wife's council for making peace. Their hearts were like stone, and their minds were stubborn and filled with pride and the hurt that each had caused the other.
The next spring as the creek swelled the elder brother was visited by a carpenter. He asked if the brother had any odd jobs that needed done in exchange for lodging and food for a few days. The brother considered and then cam up with a grand idea.
There was old wood being stored in the barn, part of it was the enormous harvest dinner table, and the brother told the carpenter that he would like to have a fence built all along the creek. So high that he wouldn't even have to look at his younger brother's fields ever again. The carpenter agreed.
For many days the brother saw the carpenter laboring in the clearing next to the creek. Sawing, planning, and preparing the wood. Nothing was built, but this was work that needed to be done so that the fence would be strong and stay for many years.
The next day the older brother told the carpenter that he would be going into town to buy extra spring seed, and would be gone for three days. The carpenter said that he would be nearly finished by then, and that the brother could inspect his work on his return. The brother agreed.
Three days later the older brother returned, and was imagining his wonderful fence, when, as he came up to the house he saw, not a fence, but an enormous bridge.
Cursing the carpenter under his breath as he marched out to the bridge the brother was furious. How dare that carpenter do something like this, who was he to disobey the orders of the one who was employing him. As he stormed out to the center of the bridge, his anger a storm around him, he turned to face his own property, looking for the carpenter.
Suddenly behind him a voice called out his name, so loud it made him jump before he recognized it. It was his younger brother. Before he could say anything in response he was dumbfounded as his brother broke into a run and hurried to the bridge. He saw that his brother's face was wet with tears. He charged his older brother with a thick embrace. His voice cracked with chokes as he asked his brother to forgive him, to thank him for showing that he still cared by having this bridge built.
In a rush of emotion the older brother's heart broke as well. He returned the embrace of his brother, and with his own tears confessed that he could not place the anger he had felt, that he could not come up with the reason for it. That he had missed his brother so very much over these years. Their families, who had been watching from their houses on either side were amazed.
That night, they feasted at a new table, right in the middle of the bridge.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
That's for Thoughts
A friend of mine just started her blog to participate in Illustration Fridays(that's the secod Blog in "links"). It makes me think of the fun niceties of bloging-how apt the name. It's the mind dump for our overstimulated culture.
"Oh man... Watched too much TV, and I was reading three magazines and then I was.. Oh.. Oh man... erp... *BLOOOOOOOOG* Ahh, that's better."
Of course, having all these blogs only adds to available information that other people have to consume...
Blogs are like dreams i think, in that, it has been said that dreams are the mind purging itself in some ways of the events of the day. Half mind purge and half connection to the ethereal perhaps.
"Oh man... Watched too much TV, and I was reading three magazines and then I was.. Oh.. Oh man... erp... *BLOOOOOOOOG* Ahh, that's better."
Of course, having all these blogs only adds to available information that other people have to consume...
Blogs are like dreams i think, in that, it has been said that dreams are the mind purging itself in some ways of the events of the day. Half mind purge and half connection to the ethereal perhaps.
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