Life keeps spinning at a dizzying pace, and God's plan unfolds daily above our vision. My grandmother was let out of surgery this morning around 11, and Calvin and I walked over to burden her with our problems and worries. The first team bound for Haiti leaves tomorrow night, with my dear thorn practicing pronunciation differences between "e" sounds influenced by French and Spanish. I'd explain them as eta (ay-ta) and epsilon (ehp-silon), but he doesn't know Greek; instead he knows Latin. Equally as valuable for understanding medical terminology and proper grammatical English, I guess Latin doesn't have two "e" vowels. Mi-verbs are the bane of my existence. I might have a job this fall; I may not continue my studies in Greek prose. My classes look like I could get Mondays off, besides fitting work with the children into the equation. Divorce is stupid. "Just make sure you find the right girl, Joseph, and stick with her!" Where there is equal fault, there are equal consequences. Bloody noses are good reminders of my fragility.
[Money is a good thing; only do not set your heart upon it. Seek first the kingdom of God... What an abstract statement. The kingdom comes; God's will is being done. What is God's will for you, O believer, but that you are a faithful servant with all that you seek to grasp for the Lord, like a soldier conquering enemy lands for his king? We are unworthy slaves to an omni-benevolent Despot who deigned to extend pardoning blood, to clasp Love to the loveless, when He already had multiple claims of authority as Creator, Ruler, and Sustainer. Yet He desired that His lambs not wander long without a shepherd, but that He would become Redeemer and Restorer.
In the economy of mercy, I'm a poor and begging man;
in the currency of grace is where my song begins.
In the colors of Your goodness, in the scars that mark Your skin,
in the currency of grace is where my song begins.
-----
Money! get away, get a good job with more pay, and you're okay.
Money! it's a gas, grab that cash with both hands and make a stash.
Money! get back, I'm all right, Jack, keep your hands off of my stack.
Money! it's a hit, don't give me that do goody-good bullshit.
Money! it's a crime, share it fairly, but don't take a slice of my pie.
Money! so they say, is the root of all evil today.
If I had more money, I'd use it in a "Psych" experiment as I go random evangelizing around campus. "What makes it more painful if I rip this 20 dollar bill in half than if I rip this 1 dollar bill? Which would you rather have?" In a society with value spent on paper with different colors of ink and different numerals written in the corners, we sure have a pretty good idea of abstract concepts. These don't exist in a purely physical world. Game point. If you're more than a body, you know that you are more than a grown fetus. Because a physical Grand Creation is a given, a Grand Spiritual Creation must have happened. Minds and souls don't evolve from nothing. #returningtothegoldstandard]
Blargh. I think I have insomnia when I have a cold. I have a cold. I have insomnia. I would go for a run, but I did that last night in my Vibrams for the first time, and my calves are killing me after two miles. Two miles! My friends would just give me this "Tsk tsk, Pollard," face.
I've resolved to have a certain conversation, but why I keep delaying the inevitable I've chalked up to various good reasons that keep suggesting that I'm just procrastinating.
["Just" is a good word. It has a lot of meanings: it could be the adjectival form of justice, or the adverb meaning either "merely" or "recently."]
Yet the conversation will happen; I will not forget nor delay what must be done.
Sleep-deprived poetry:
It's harder to see the flaws and faults
when mine own hands dance the waltz,
for feet may step and hearts fly
whilst strangers smile, eye to I.
Forbidden dance, this group of threes
makes joy between my tyrannies,
and if I feel the rhythm right,
my eyes you will not see tonight.
Good night, God's night. Blessed be the Morning Star, the Sun of righteousness.
[Money is a good thing; only do not set your heart upon it. Seek first the kingdom of God... What an abstract statement. The kingdom comes; God's will is being done. What is God's will for you, O believer, but that you are a faithful servant with all that you seek to grasp for the Lord, like a soldier conquering enemy lands for his king? We are unworthy slaves to an omni-benevolent Despot who deigned to extend pardoning blood, to clasp Love to the loveless, when He already had multiple claims of authority as Creator, Ruler, and Sustainer. Yet He desired that His lambs not wander long without a shepherd, but that He would become Redeemer and Restorer.
In the economy of mercy, I'm a poor and begging man;
in the currency of grace is where my song begins.
In the colors of Your goodness, in the scars that mark Your skin,
in the currency of grace is where my song begins.
-----
Money! get away, get a good job with more pay, and you're okay.
Money! it's a gas, grab that cash with both hands and make a stash.
Money! get back, I'm all right, Jack, keep your hands off of my stack.
Money! it's a hit, don't give me that do goody-good bullshit.
Money! it's a crime, share it fairly, but don't take a slice of my pie.
Money! so they say, is the root of all evil today.
If I had more money, I'd use it in a "Psych" experiment as I go random evangelizing around campus. "What makes it more painful if I rip this 20 dollar bill in half than if I rip this 1 dollar bill? Which would you rather have?" In a society with value spent on paper with different colors of ink and different numerals written in the corners, we sure have a pretty good idea of abstract concepts. These don't exist in a purely physical world. Game point. If you're more than a body, you know that you are more than a grown fetus. Because a physical Grand Creation is a given, a Grand Spiritual Creation must have happened. Minds and souls don't evolve from nothing. #returningtothegoldstandard]
Blargh. I think I have insomnia when I have a cold. I have a cold. I have insomnia. I would go for a run, but I did that last night in my Vibrams for the first time, and my calves are killing me after two miles. Two miles! My friends would just give me this "Tsk tsk, Pollard," face.
I've resolved to have a certain conversation, but why I keep delaying the inevitable I've chalked up to various good reasons that keep suggesting that I'm just procrastinating.
["Just" is a good word. It has a lot of meanings: it could be the adjectival form of justice, or the adverb meaning either "merely" or "recently."]
Yet the conversation will happen; I will not forget nor delay what must be done.
Sleep-deprived poetry:
It's harder to see the flaws and faults
when mine own hands dance the waltz,
for feet may step and hearts fly
whilst strangers smile, eye to I.
Forbidden dance, this group of threes
makes joy between my tyrannies,
and if I feel the rhythm right,
my eyes you will not see tonight.
Good night, God's night. Blessed be the Morning Star, the Sun of righteousness.
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