Musings from a winter’s evening

The Romantic poets felt that the soul was revived by beauty and sustained by memories of beauty. They wrote of beauty restoring the soul and giving them meaning. They felt whole when their eyes and souls were filled with the awesome beauties of nature.

Sure enough, they forgot the One who made the beauty and missed a great deal of lovely truths that make the beauty all the richer–that give it meaning and Him glory.

But . . . they were on to something. There’s a tingling of timid delight when one sees something lovely these days. I think our culture has forgotten the simple, lonely loveliness. On the ride back from NYC, we wound our way through miles of snowy, barren hills and fields. The trees were crisply outlined against the stars and moon in the darkness by the clinging remnants of snow on their branches. The expanse of nothingness was still, the air clear, the woods deep and restful. And my heart was glad to see it, to see dear Orion high above again, to see the empty spaces and the wild beauty under the moon’s fading beams. And one girl with us in the car commented:

“There’s nothing out here at all. I don’t think I like it. There’s…just nothing.”

And I was quiet. For I love what she called nothing. The rich stillness, the pale, forlorn beauty. It’s wild and fresh, a bit uncanny, and very rich. And the One who made it all is greater still.

He’s not a tame lion, but he’s good.

The other night, as I walked across campus to my room, a very damp, sticky snow had begun to fall. I was struck by the stillness of it; the contented manner in which the flakes amble on their way to rest on the walks. The twinkling feeling of snow on my eyelashes. The silence of my footfalls in the snow. The joyous weariness of working my mind until it could absorb no more left me content and numb intellectually, but in the snowfall–with the silver glintings of the stars, street lights and the flakes embroidering the inky darkness of the night . . . my soul was refreshed.

These are the small graces, the little moments when…

Look at yourself first

A recent [and frequent] topic of discussion here at school has been what one would seek in a spouse…not in regard to any one in particular, or brought up by any one for any special reason. It’s just been discussed a bit lately, and it made me think.

There are girls who will say that they “go for the tall, dark types” or that they prefer gentlemen who like to sing, or are athletic, or that they won’t marry a poor man. I can see their reasoning behind that…but it seems to me that they are paying too much attention to the trivial.

Ages ago I did have a list of things I wanted in a husband. I’ve since quietly discarded of it, and can’t remember what half of the things on there were. That’s not what I need to be focusing on–too much dwelling on “someday” leaves me forgetting who I am and what I’m called to today. if I’m looking around, I can’t be pressing further up and further in as I ought.

While I do have a short [and I mean short--3-5 things max] list of preferences for what sort of man I might marry, I’m not going to let that determine how I think of my guy friends. I refuse to box them into the categories so many have of “no way,” “just friends,” “potential,” and “wow.”  They’re all brothers.

That said, however, I would encourage you–if you do have a list of things that you are seeking in your future spouse–to compare it to Scripture and see how it lines up. No one’s going to be perfect, but there is grace for growth through the Holy Spirit.

And I don’t mean growth for them. I mean for you. Do you match up with what the Word sets up as the ideal?

Gentlemen:
Sober-minded, self-controlled, respectable, hospitable, able to teach, not a drunkard, not violent but gentle, not quarrelsome, not a lover of money, having dignity, holding to the mystery of the faith with a clean conscience, pure [1 tim. 3 & 4], pursuing righteousness, godliness, faith, love, steadfastness, gentleness. holding fast to the Word of truth.[1 tim. 6] sound in faith, models of good works, speaking soundly without condemnation [titus 2], not prone to anger, knowing the Word, having faith….the list goes on.

Ladies:
Adorned with inner beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, submissive (to authority, fathers, pastors, and eventually, husbands), not fearful [ 1 peter 3], dignified, sober-minded, faithful in all things, [1 tim. 3], not slanderers, not drunkards, loving, self-controlled, pure, diligent (working at home…), kind, adorning the Gospel’s testimony, [titus 2], doing good, serving others, hospitable, having great faith in the Lord, strength of mind/soul, speaking wisely and with kindness, [prov. 31], gracious, loving her family, etc.

Let’s seek to be the best He’s called us to be before we set about putting expectations on others.

Moving

forthright fixation

Dusty

…is what this site is becoming.

Hm.

I’ll be moving to another blog soon. More to come on the 27th.

Called…

My pastor likes to say that often, the most obvious sign that someone is called by God to something, is that they feel utterly inadequate for whatever it is.

I’ve observed this myself. Every time He’s called me to something, He first brings me to a point where I know that there is no earthly way that I could ever do such a thing. He strips me of my pride and self-reliance, and shows me my desperate need for Him. And then He tells me to do it–leaning wholly on Him.

This is expressed so well in Lewis’ book Prince Caspian.  Aslan asks the young king of Narnia:

“Do you feel yourself sufficient to take up the Kingship of Narnia?”

“I–I don’t think I do, Sir,” said Caspian. “I’m only a kid.”

“Good,” said Aslan. “If you had felt yourself sufficient, it would have been proof that you were not.”

This sums up my musings on starting college next week. I’m not the quickest learner, and I’ve never been terribly diligent. Memorization is horrid, and I have to talk difficult things through once or twice before I fully comprehend them. There is no way I can get through college (and please, this is not false humility. It’s true. You have no idea how close I was to not graduating this year…) but by God’s mercy.

Yet…that’s a lovely thing. I know that if I do well at Grove, it’s by His hand and power. He alone will be able to get the glory, and I will have had little or no part in it. And resting on that truth is a sweet, sweet place to be.

I shan’t be worried. It’s His business.

Now, that doesn’t mean I’m going to be lazy about it. Quite the contrary. I will, by His grace, work as hard as I can to do well. But it won’t be by my might. It’ll be by His grace alone. And that, dears, is why I’m called to it. For His glory.

Insulting Grace

There’s nothing more insulting than the grace of the Gospel. Ever thought about that? This passage gives me the clearest, most insulting picture of myself I’ve ever heard or read. It’s so easy to just skim over the Scripture passages in a blog post, but please do read this. Read it lingeringly, pondering the image of yourself that it creates. It’s terribly insulting.

“And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience—among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind. But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved—and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.”
-Eph. 2:1-9

There’s no greater critism of me than this. I am, according to this, utterly dead in my sins, a child of wrath, the allied with the enemy of God, helpless to redeem myslef, and completely dependant upon Him for everything I am and have. There is no room for pride here.

It’s the most insulting evaluation of yourself ever. But because it is grace, there’s an invitation to be changed, to become beautiful. The grace of this passage takes Quasimodo, shows him a clear reflection of himself, and then offers to restore him; to make him more beautiful than Pheobus.

“For I, the Lord your God,
hold your right hand;
it is I who say to you, ‘Fear not,
I am the one who helps you.’

Fear not, you worm Jacob,
you men of Israel!
I am the one who helps you, declares the Lord;
your Redeemer is the Holy One of Israel.”
-Is. 41:13-14

This grace tears down any false image of myself. It calls me dead, a child of wrath, a worm. But here’s the glory: it then points up, and says, “But I am the One Who helps you. Your Redeemer is the Holy One of Israel!” I am a nothing, a worm. But the Redeemer? Oh, He is wonderful!

This grace is insulting, uncomfortable. But when it is acknowledged as truth and even rejoiced it, then there is a glorious transformation. I am forgotten, for there’s something far greater to be looked at. And by allowing myself to be forgotten, I no longer steal from His beauty, but rather add to it.

For I am transformed.

My Hope Is Built On…

Sometimes I wonder at how God works. His sovereignty is a constant source of joy and awe to me, and if it isn’t, please smack me upside the head. It should be.

Mr. Purswell spoke about how God’s sovereignty is not just a looming, distant controlling force–but rather it’s a personal, sweet care for me and a purposeful directing of my steps, for my good and His glory. It all goes hand in hand, and that is a delicious truth. It just blows me away everytime I think about it!

The Creator, the Master of the Universe, against Whom I rebelled in utter scorn and hatred of His rule over me, sent His only Son, in the likeness of a created being, to be slain for my redemption. And this was when I was still dead in my sins, and living in emnity toward Him. He softened my heart, and woke my soul, and opened my eyes, and lead me to Him that I might be restored to a right relationship with Him. He didn’t just justify me, but seeks a relationship with me, the vile rebel! And everything He does is out of a passion for His glory, and whatever He gives me comes from His desire to do good to me, and to glorify Himself in my life–now His.

 Astounding, is it not?

 That, my friends, is our hope. That is what makes all the difference in the world–it permeates everything we are and say and do. It shapes our worldview, and is the lense through which the world becomes a clear and beautiful place, full of wondrous things and deep, swelling joy.

 My hope is in Him, and His blood and righteousness. There is a sweet respose to be found in this solid foundation. Let us stand on Him!

Reconstructionism

One thing I know: I am here, and I am  not robbing anyone of their sanctification.

For the Brauns….you should look up Dr. Gregory Thornbury. We’ve been hearing from him most of the day, and he’s anti-reconstructionist, too. We had some very interesting discussion regarding that and government. *smiles*

Can you prove the inerrency of the Bible, or is it merely self-attesting? Sasser’s lecture on the Scriptures brought up this interesting question, and Tim Shelhase and I have been hashing it though almost every time we talk. I think it’s just a faith thing, and that it’s self-attesting. You?

We won volleyball. Our first. Now, my friends, our discussion group is a team!

Proving God and Dove Chocolate

Tonight we decided that by Descartes’ logic of “I think, therefore I am,” there is only One Being Whose existence can be proven. God’s, obviously. He is the only One who can define who that “I” in “I think…” and so He is the only one who can prove His existence by that logic.

Lost? So am I. Sasser says it better.

 So, take some advice from my lovely Dove chocolate wrapper.

“Don’t think about it too much.”

Recap

(or Metaphysics, My Mind (or lack thereof), George MacDonald, and Humility) 

Nathan Sasser is way too intelligent for his own good. Once I followed his logic as if it were a theorem in geometry, and then I began to get the gist of what he said. But most of it made a pretty cool whooshing noise as it flew by me.

He was lecturing on metaphysics. If you’re anything like me, you have no idea what that word even means. I think he said that it was the study of the knowledge of reality. But I can’t be sure.

The simplest way I can explain what he talked to us about (quite eloquently, I will add), is thus: He pretended that we didn’t believe in God, and tried to prove God’s existence through what we know of the world (i.e., creation). Then he picked apart that idea, and showed us how it just isn’t possible (this is about where my mind froze), and then refuted it with a counter-plan (a different chain of logic) of his own. All very good. All very challenging, thought-provoking, and stimulating. I just hope I can remember what I did grasp.

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I finished Phantastes last night. I think George MacDonald’s seriously starting to bug me. What do y’all think of this sentence?

“What we call evil, is the only and best shape, which, for the person and his condition at the time, could be assumed by the best good.”

I’m not certain I get all of that, but I do know that it sounds very, very wrong. Any thoughts?

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 At the moment, the thing that has struck me the most about my time here at the Clash is that I have so much to grow in, and so far to go in my pursuit of holiness. I’ve known it before, but it’s becoming much more tangible to me as I meet so many men and women here, who have passionate hearts for the Lord, humble, teachable spirits, and a depth of sincerity and grace that I can only dream of.

I know they’re not all perfect, but I am humbled, challenged, and inspired afresh. The depth to which some of these folks study the Word is provoking to me, and I am challenged to examine my heart. How much do I really desire to spend time with my Lord? Am I doing it just for my sake, or for setting an example, or for the “I had my quiet time today” feel-good snottiness that’s utterly disgusting…or am I doing it because my Savior died to give me fellowship with Him, and I can’t wait to take advantage of that glorious truth? What are my motives for everything?

A Sara Groves song comes to mind:

Why do I pray-do I pray to say I prayed an hour?
Why do I love-do I want you beholden to me?
Why do I help-do I want to hear my name called out? Why do I sing? 
Search me and know my heart, oh God.
See if there is any wrong thing in me.
All I have ever really wanted are clean hands and a pure heart.
Why do I tithe-do I tithe so I can get a blessing?
Why do I praise-do I praise to do the right thing?
Why do I serve-do I serve so others will serve me? Why do I sing?
Search me and know my heart, oh God.
See if there is any wrong thing in me.
All I have ever really wanted are clean hands and a pure heart

Many things to ponder, eh?