I have my moments but no one
wants just moments. They want
magic and birthday cake - all the time.
I wish I could, I know how to fly on
airplanes, you could come here,
I know I am not all that great,
but I am mostly quiet,
I am mostly still.
Paramahansa Yogananda (via penseesduchoeur)
Well that was greatly needed. Self-analysis is painful though
(via allcameundonethemomentyoumeantit)
YES!
(Source: hookahsmoke, via bornforatimesuchasthis)
Now, Now - “Thread”
J. I. Packer:
“Truth obeyed, said the Puritans, will heal. The word fits, because we are all spiritually sick — sick through sin, which is a wasting and killing disease of the heart. The unconverted are sick unto death; those who have come to know Christ and have been born again continue sick, but they are gradually getting better as the work of grace goes on in their lives.
The church, however, is a hospital in which nobody is completely well, and anyone can relapse at any time. Pastors no less than others are weakened by pressure from the world, the flesh, and the devil, with their lures of profit, pleasure, and pride, and, as we shall see more fully in a moment, pastors must acknowledge that they the healers remain sick and wounded and therefore need to apply the medicines of Scripture to themselves as well as to the sheep whom they tend in Christ’s name.
All Christians need Scripture truth as medicine for their souls at every stage, and the making and accepting of applications is the administering and swallowing of it.”
J. I. Packer, A Quest for Godliness, 1990, reprint (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2010), 65, paragraphing added.
(HT: Josh Etter)
We are water, forest fire, white noise, holidays - all you can eat babies.
Cat whiskers, self denial, clouds and I am sorry - luxury. Where do I begin? Mountains? Fireworks? Triumph? Slim odds - comeback? I told you all this was not going to be pretty, victory for the ages - amid piss, sweat, tears, pills, rot, but not necessarily in that order.
Please, and sound - foaming mouth.
Belly-ache year or two, not sure what to say, not sure what to do.
To avoid criticism, do nothing, say nothing, be nothing.
When I breathe, I inhale fireflies and soda pop, neon light for the masses.
In my dream, your teeth were destroyed. You were sitting on the floor with your legs crossed and your teeth were fucked.
This is not to say I am sorry and this is not to say I am not sorry. We all are sorry, passing on the right and eating ice cream cones. In the dark I fumble for light and end up with my shoelaces undone. Today I feel sad, today I feel stupid, but none of that matters. There has to be a winner and a loser - this is defined - there are two sides of the line and there is no way to fall asleep easy now. My mouth is becoming a desert. I must make up my mind before ice becomes ice. That is not the point either.
This one for time. This one for beginning. What is left? What has been left? What has been forgotten? Mild-mannered polite decay, this is for y’all. Rotten, granite, bark, fog, my name replaced. My life - piss yellow and dreams.
The worst is over, swallowing smoke, preacher preaches and life goes on. I fade out and life goes on. Get back to the matter at hand, turn things around, start over, no one cares what has happened to you. Work at it, admire the wind ripping your face off, and the trees that don’t hibernate for the winter.
There are powerful things, you are not one of these things, but you know them. Speak, your words are monsters, let them out before they eat you up.
This is for building. These words are tools. I am building a home. This is me hammering a nail into wood. This is me setting the foundation. No one cares, no one is going to care.
This should be a map leading nowhere.
Red brick graduation, hair all a mess in the mornin’, half-magic, pour some water, bout some prayer left over from last night’s sermon. As the kettle boils, I am suddenly sorry. I am forgiven and underwater, mouth full of sea salt, proud, putting on a show for the masses, you asshole, one or two moments a year for honey and addiction, reality is layer after layer and my fingers broken, my feet black, my lips chapped, my breath disgusting, the worst is over, let’s try to care.
By Jonathan Parnell:
Discipleship is about values. This could not be clearer in the Gospels. Jesus’ call is for a double action: leave and follow. “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men,” he first said to Peter and Andrew in Matthew 4:19. And “Immediately they left their nets and followed him.” Then to James and John. And “Immediately they left the boat and their father and followed him.” Whether nets or family, the call to follow Jesus is the call to walk away from something else. It is the call to this, not that. Here, not there.
The disciples knew this. They knew they were forsaking one thing for another. And they knew pleasure was at the root. That’s why Peter asked what he did in Matthew 19:27. To be sure, he was still putting the pieces together, but he tipped his hand here. He was waiting for the pay off. Jesus had just taught on riches, which I imagine seemed out of the ballpark to Peter. Riches? Psssssst! (He had even walked away from his meager livelihood.) Ayhem, Jesus? Great lesson on riches, and about that, we, you know, we, uh, we left everything. So when do we get to cash the check?
Maybe more astonishing than Peter asking the question is that Jesus answers him.
Forsake the lesser pursuit in order to gain the greater pleasure. That’s why a man sells everything to buy a field (Matthew 13:44) or why the merchant considers all his goods mere commerce compared to one pearl (Matthew 13:45). There is something better out there and discipleship is the great calling to lay hold of it.
The human is a deep creature: “not just a body, but a soul. Not just a soul, but a soul with a passion and a desire. Not just a desire for being liked or for playing softball or collecting shells.” And Jesus says, “Follow me.” His call harmonizes with our inherent depth. Look, here’s the treasure. It’s me. Then we are awakened, muddy hands and all, wallowing in the slums this whole time but now testifying of a “desire for something infinitely great and beautiful and valuable and satisfying — the name and the glory of God” (Boasting Only in the Cross). So we leave and we follow. Goodbye broken cisterns (Jeremiah 2:13), hello my exceeding joy (Psalm 43:4).
We follow Jesus into a new world, not as pedagogy, but as fellowship. We come not as pupils, but as rebellious creatures made alive for the first time — rebellious creatures now reconciled to God by the death of his Son. Discipleship — following Jesus — is to live before God’s face, to dwell in his presence, to be satisfied in all that he is. We follow as creatures of grace, entering into the fellowship of the triune God in whose presence there is fullness of joy, at whose right hand are pleasures forevermore (Psalm 16:11).
“All your church attendance, all your religious activities, your Sunday school attendance medals, your journals, having a “quiet time,” reading the Scriptures—it’s all in vain if you don’t have Christ.
We are saved, sanctified, and sustained by what Jesus did for us on the cross and through the power of his resurrection. If you add to or subtract from the cross, even if it is to factor in biblically mandated religious practices like prayer and evangelism, you rob God of his glory and Christ of his sufficiency.
Romans 8:1 tells us that there is no condemnation for us, not because of all the great stuff we’ve done but because Christ has set us free from the law of sin and death.
My sin in the past: forgiven. My current struggles: covered. My future failures: paid in full all by the marvelous, infinite, matchless grace found in the atoning work of the cross of Jesus Christ.”
— Matt ChandlerThe Explicit Gospel(Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2012), 15
(HT: Of First Importance)
24/Geography Grad Student/Grappler/Cambridge Native/Child of God. You'll find a mixture of theology posts, music that I find inspiring, and some of my own creative writing and photography.
