A few weekends ago, my girlfriend and I stopped by the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art in downtown Kansas City for their 75th anniversary celebration. The commemoration was three days long and included free admission to their current exhibit feature Art in the Age of Steam, a collection of painting and photography that offered a myriad of ruminations regarding the advent of industrialization and technologically-driven modernity. (This nostalgic subject interests me greatly because it grants a much-needed historical perspective: it's so easy for my culture to forget about yesterday! I suggest reading Steinbeck's novel The Winter of Our Discontent and Hawthorne's short story The Birth-Mark for further discussion of the theme.) Largely, the exhibit struck a somber note; I believe it is a Rob Bell book that points out how the invention of the lightbulb gives mankind the option to divorce himself from the rhythms of day and night, just as a temperature-controlled indoor environment has enabled separation from the hardships (and joys) of four revolving seasons. As railways began appearing in landscapes across America and Europe, many artists responded with lamentation as they saw the New indiscriminately replace the Old, and their works now hanging at the Nelson reveal the prophetic warnings they proffered to a world increasingly entranced by the siren song of Industrialization.
It is here that Tess of the d'Urbervilles is philosophically situated. It deals with a host of themes (as any good novel will), but I have so far appreciated the way that Thomas Hardy considers the approach of the 20th century (and the ideals that would come to define it). He stations two characters, Tess and Angel (both in their early twenties), between a generation still steeped in the decidedly-unscientific superstitions and belief systems of pastoral rusticism, and an ever-encroaching modern culture. And these two characters are ever so confused.
Moreover, it is interesting to read Thomas Hardy as an author in literary suspension. His books were criticized by his genetic society as offensive and immoral, particularly due to his treatment of sex and marriage. Even as he pens biting diatribes of Victorian culture and practices, it seems that he is nearly too modern for his own good, which is to say that he is often pretty un-Victorian himself. Though he isn't quite the experimental morally-relative modernist, he certainly marks a departure from many traits of 19th century literature.
All in all, I'm thoroughly enjoying this book. Portrayal of social hypocrisy is always fun to read, and Hardy presents nature in such glory that somewhere Barbra Kingsolver is at this very moment surely sighing in gratitude.
(And, since I haven't blogged in nearly 6 months, I believe I'll keep typing...)
It is interesting to see how Thomas Hardy uses adjectives (I know, what a lame thing to say). I'm someone who, to a fault, takes words at face value. Where others may think that 'fine' is some sort of red flag when used to answer the question 'how was your day?', I tend to use it frequently because, of course, the word is itself a positive one (meaning anything from 'of high quality' to 'satisfactory'). I'll try to avoid arguments that will surely come across as high-minded and condescending (such as, since words are supposed to be vessels of specific meaning, perhaps we should endeavor to use them to communicate instead of hoping that "I'm just fine" will somehow indicate that there's something wrong): suffice it to say, I tend to trust words as they come to me. However, Hardy often uses adjectives rather loosely in order to create an impression instead of perfect image, as in "the mixed, singular, luminous gloom in which they walked". I read once about how this is very Faulknerian, that he did the same thing. And, I suppose, words are still being used to impart meaning; the meaning comes however when taking a phrase as a whole and not by dissecting words individually. How difficult it must be to achieve this effect without falling into linguistic ambiguity such that the mind cannot extract any meaning! I tend to have the opposite problem of using too MANY words and losing my meaning along the way.
It's good to be reading again! Glad the semester is over....
Friday, December 26, 2008
Thursday, July 17, 2008
much to learn!
I've been reading Fyodor Dostoevesky's The Brothers Karamazov for the past few weeks; I so very highly recommend it. It's one of the most masterful books I've ever read. The plot is so very logical and constructed with perfection, and this alone is fascinating to me. I visualize plot construction as a sort of literary juggling; to think that an author can start with a single starting point (almost like a period on an empty sheet of paper) and out explodes perhaps dozens of different lines, twisting and curving in every direction and getting more and more complicated as the book progresses, and bring it all back to a period at the end of the book so that the plot (conceptually) looks a bit like a diamond on its side. That is how Dostoevesky has constructed this plot. And the way that he weaves in the discussion of so many themes, or the development and existence of so many complex characters, and makes the whole chaos of seperate ideas intertwine and play off itself: it's a veritable masterpiece and I highly recommend the investment that reading and digesting the book necessarily is.
But one of the central themes of the book is the supremacy of love, and the crucial centrality of it in the words of Christ and Christian orthodoxy; it isn't a byproduct of the Christian life - it's the lifeblood. More particularly, the book champions that a prerequisite to loving your neighbor (that is, loving any man) is accepting his sin as your own. For me to love those around me, it is essential that I recognize my own sin in theirs.
For me, it took days for the profundity of that to sink in, but I am beginning to see that this might in fact be the sine qua non, the essential condition, without which I cannot love others fully. And accepting responsibility is assuredly not in my nature...I find that I tend to believe my thoughts or actions are shaped by various forces working upon me. For me, the question is often if what I have thought or done is 'understandable, given the situation' - a far cry from accepting responsibility for them!
I feel like I'm droning on and on in the spirit of explaining myself, and to be honest I simply want to say a few things. So here is the point I want to make:
I am learning that I am the ugliness I see in other people. The sins of others are my sins, and if any one is responsible then so am I. I still have much to learn about how all of this works, but I am learning that all are responsible for all. And more importantly, I am becoming acquainted with this - the wretchedness I see in the world around me is in every corner of my being, even in my best of moments. I conclude with excerpts from Aaron Weiss's online journal:
"The other day i got this thought: I'm very prone to judge people when they do things they shouldn't, but I realized (again) that someone else's problem is my problem, their sins are my sins, and what i see wrong in others is there in my own heart. I am part of you and you are part of me and when I judge you I judge myself. We are more connected that i think, I think."
"I don't mean to give cheap advice, 'forgive everyone everything' that is my advice, if you want it plainly, but grace doesn't seem to come naturally to us, so what do we do? If you feel unable to forgive someone who's hurt you please at least desire to forgive, and pray to God for help. We have the teaching that "the measure to which you forgive, you will be forgiven" (this is extremely powerful) all the parables to instruct us and the example of St. Stephen in Acts and Christ on the cross, who did not wait for an apology but prayed for mercy for the very ones who killed them. May we fix our eyes there, not only for a single decision but a perpetual life of unconditional grace. May God grant us such scandalous love!"
"This world is full of darkness and we alone are to blame. There is a paradise in our hearts right this moment, as I type this, as you read it, sleeping in our hearts is the paradise of the glorious, peaceful kingdom. The lion lies with the lamb, every tear is wiped from every eye, and this paradise is waiting to be found. My life is a shit storm - I don't care about anyone at all. People are a means to satisfying some desire of mine. You can live or die for all I care, my best friend can live or die, I don't care about anyone. But can I tell you something that's more Good than I am Bad? God is Good! By 'God', mind you, I mean the Intelligence that created the universe. And by God I mean the power that sustains all life, the force of life that is so much everywhere that we don't see it at all, like fish swimming in the ocean searching for water! The Beginning and the End of all things, the Healer of the heart, the Physician to the sick, the Father to the fatherless, the Mother Hen to us baby chicks, the Great Unchanging Eternal Existence, the reality next to which our lives are vapors, the Light, seperated from which our lives are shadows, the Beauty and Meaning and Goodness that is, and there is a single word that points to (but can never contain) this, the word I tell you is LOVE. Love, though, is only a word; the reality I can never tell. For the reality, there are no words."
But one of the central themes of the book is the supremacy of love, and the crucial centrality of it in the words of Christ and Christian orthodoxy; it isn't a byproduct of the Christian life - it's the lifeblood. More particularly, the book champions that a prerequisite to loving your neighbor (that is, loving any man) is accepting his sin as your own. For me to love those around me, it is essential that I recognize my own sin in theirs.
For me, it took days for the profundity of that to sink in, but I am beginning to see that this might in fact be the sine qua non, the essential condition, without which I cannot love others fully. And accepting responsibility is assuredly not in my nature...I find that I tend to believe my thoughts or actions are shaped by various forces working upon me. For me, the question is often if what I have thought or done is 'understandable, given the situation' - a far cry from accepting responsibility for them!
I feel like I'm droning on and on in the spirit of explaining myself, and to be honest I simply want to say a few things. So here is the point I want to make:
I am learning that I am the ugliness I see in other people. The sins of others are my sins, and if any one is responsible then so am I. I still have much to learn about how all of this works, but I am learning that all are responsible for all. And more importantly, I am becoming acquainted with this - the wretchedness I see in the world around me is in every corner of my being, even in my best of moments. I conclude with excerpts from Aaron Weiss's online journal:
"The other day i got this thought: I'm very prone to judge people when they do things they shouldn't, but I realized (again) that someone else's problem is my problem, their sins are my sins, and what i see wrong in others is there in my own heart. I am part of you and you are part of me and when I judge you I judge myself. We are more connected that i think, I think."
"I don't mean to give cheap advice, 'forgive everyone everything' that is my advice, if you want it plainly, but grace doesn't seem to come naturally to us, so what do we do? If you feel unable to forgive someone who's hurt you please at least desire to forgive, and pray to God for help. We have the teaching that "the measure to which you forgive, you will be forgiven" (this is extremely powerful) all the parables to instruct us and the example of St. Stephen in Acts and Christ on the cross, who did not wait for an apology but prayed for mercy for the very ones who killed them. May we fix our eyes there, not only for a single decision but a perpetual life of unconditional grace. May God grant us such scandalous love!"
"This world is full of darkness and we alone are to blame. There is a paradise in our hearts right this moment, as I type this, as you read it, sleeping in our hearts is the paradise of the glorious, peaceful kingdom. The lion lies with the lamb, every tear is wiped from every eye, and this paradise is waiting to be found. My life is a shit storm - I don't care about anyone at all. People are a means to satisfying some desire of mine. You can live or die for all I care, my best friend can live or die, I don't care about anyone. But can I tell you something that's more Good than I am Bad? God is Good! By 'God', mind you, I mean the Intelligence that created the universe. And by God I mean the power that sustains all life, the force of life that is so much everywhere that we don't see it at all, like fish swimming in the ocean searching for water! The Beginning and the End of all things, the Healer of the heart, the Physician to the sick, the Father to the fatherless, the Mother Hen to us baby chicks, the Great Unchanging Eternal Existence, the reality next to which our lives are vapors, the Light, seperated from which our lives are shadows, the Beauty and Meaning and Goodness that is, and there is a single word that points to (but can never contain) this, the word I tell you is LOVE. Love, though, is only a word; the reality I can never tell. For the reality, there are no words."
Friday, June 6, 2008
inaction...and a diversion into Jewish history.
I have a lot of cerebral culmination going on....lots to unpack.
I was waiting at the bus stop today after I got off work, and I saw a twenty-something man storming towards his car, clearly furious at someone across the street. I picked up on this undercurrent soon after he yelled 'fucking retard' at the top of his lungs and slammed his car door with guillotine celerity. (I was impressed with his creativity!) He pealed out of his parking spot, sped across the parking lot and out into the street where a very embarrassed girl crawled into the back seat, closing the door just in time for him to drive furiously away.
Thoughts sparked by this event:
- there is such a thing as white trash.
- why do people knock stereotyping? I'm fascinated by how many times people fall so effortlessly into a ready-made mold that is assembly-line generic.
- how can I intervene?
The other day, I was riding my bike down the street and began hearing the catcalls and whistles of an old beer-bellied man. A bit further down the street walked two girls in the opposite direction, assuredly not 20 years old, ignoring the man completely.
Thoughts sparked by this event:
- there is such a thing as white trash.
- this man is perpetuating the cycle that is so pernicious for much of our society (particularly our urban society): he whistles at women he objectifies. Because no one stops him, he is one more experience assured that women are in fact objects. Because no one stops him, those girls are one humiliation closer to adopting the types of coping mechanisms that say either "I am truly an object" or "I can't expect anything better from men" - both lies that vitiate, that spoil, the very fabric of our urban (and, unfortunately, all too frequently African-American or Latino) communities. A woman who cannot admit her worth will not expect a man to (whether in word or in deed), nor will a woman who believes men to be incapable of such recognition. This effectively frees a man from all responsibility: it leaves him free to be the selfish child he's always been, free to read Maxim magazine while his wife gets her hair done, free to publicly shame his girlfriend from across the street because he is upset, free for unrestrained, incontinent sexual activity with other women. And here we finally are at the all-too-familiar single-parent home, where a child is not made accountable for homework because a mother is working to pay for rent, where college is an exception, where a woman keeps afloat a household because she believed the lie that she did not have the right to EXPECT from her man, and now that man is gone. I believe the family home is the sine qua non, the essential condition, for a healthy society and here this base and depraved fraud is, whistling away our humanity.
- how can I intervene?
In psychology last semester, we discussed the term 'diffusion of responsibility'. It's the idea that you're more likely to receive help with a dropped dinner plate if you're dining with only one or two people. The more guests arrive for your dinner, the more likely it is that you'll be picking that plate up yourself. There is an incredible and nearly-phantasmagoric story of a woman who was robbed (or raped - I can't remember) and murdered in the broad daylight of New York City. Dozens of people witnessed the entire sequence of events and NO ONE INTERVENED. Does this seem impossible to you? It most certainly did to me, but I was immediately reminded of how often I see a person spinning out on the February ice, clearly unable to drive, and I stand with other strangers and we watch, we 'diffuse responsibility', like we are the dumbest creatures alive.
Now, follow me on a necessary diversion. Last week at Jacob's Well (my wonderful church in downtown Kansas City), we discussed the Old Testament story of David and Bathsheba. In 2 chapters, we see David desire Bathsheba, take her for his own, try and frame the consequent pregnancy as legitimate but ultimately kill Bathsheba's husband: all this during the very ascendancy of his kingly prestige.
To be honest, this story has honestly confused me for most of my life: I never know what David is doing wrong and what was just normal for people back then (and don't even get me started on how confusing that ostensibly contradictory thought gets for me! I trust God where things don't make sense yet).
However, I read a bit of a guidebook last winter, pointedly called How to Read the Bible for All It's Worth (Gordon D. Fee and Douglas Stuart). In the section regarding the Old Testament narratives, the authors explain that those who penned these stories were writing to a Jewish audience; they expected that the sins of the characters would be glaringly obvious to a reader who was familiar with the Torah. Indeed, viewing these stories through the lens of the Torah brings the messages and morals inherent in them to the surface, much like one needs special glasses to find form and order in certain 3-D images. It decodes and defuses our reading.
Our pastor supplied some of this necessary Judaic information on Sunday, and it brought to light some important themes. Monarchical rule was a new development for Israel at this point in their history: they begged God for an empirical, human king (so they could be like their neighbors, largely), and he hesitantly anointed young King David (because God, having made man, understood the danger of absolute power in the hands of man who, twisted by carnal nature, inherently tends towards dangerous declarations of self-sufficiency and self-deification). At one pivotal point in the story, King David does indeed claim moral authority. The King of Israel (the people God chose through Abraham to be His blessing to the world) has claimed moral authority, and the profundity of this moment cannot be overestimated.
Now, to begin my journey back to my primary point. While listening to this story, I began to realize that the church of Christ, the adopted children of Israel, those who God still calls to be his blessing in the world, is substantially in a very similar predicament in America. Make no mistake - I'm not saying that America is a nation originally blessed by God to be his Christian 'city on a hill': but his church in America is in the same position that the faithful Jews were when King David declared himself moral arbitor. We are followers of Yahweh, we believe that he is trying to reconcile all things unto himself and that our world and the people in it want this as well (although God is often the victim of bad marketing, and the Desire of every nation is rarely acknowledged as such), and that this has repercussions with how we live our lives, how we vote, what we buy, how we treat others, and what we strive for. When we are truly and actually fulfilling our roles as God's chosen people, we are extensions of Christ himself, bringing true justice, true love, true peace, true reconciliation to our brothers and sisters in humanity.
But we are faced with the question I ask myself in the situations above and in many others where justice, love, peace, and reconciliation are obviously missing and desperately needed: how do I get involved? I desire to be Christ-like because it is the cure for what ails us, but I myself am stuck in the same mire that King David, the cat-calling old man, and the angry twenty-something are stuck in. When I see injustice, my reaction is to fight for it, to raise my voice and strike down the offender: but the Unquestionable was questioned and made no reply. My desire is to avenge the wronged: but God claims that vengeance is his and that he will repay, and I can't help noticing that my vengeance roots itself in malice, in eye-for-an-eye logic, in the same self-deification and claims of moral authority that King David made. But his vengeance necessarily flows from love and from a desire that all should be reconciled unto him - how different must this vengeance be??
I am tired of diffusion of responsibility. I'm grieved by the terminal illnesses that plague our civic life, our communities - my community! I'm outraged by the disrespect that we often show to one another and I do not want to continue standing aside while women are degraded and humiliated, while children grow up without role models and without opportunity, while some men continue to shirk responsibility and others strain under the weight of broken cycles that continue to feed themselves with the dawning of every new day.
What does it look like to be Christ in our world? How do we bring creative imagination (note that word 'creative' - consider the depth of a social, political, economic imagination that CREATES, that beats swords and spears into plowshares and pruning hooks, from tools of death into tools for life) to our world in the name of our God Yahweh? I yearn for the problems we have today to come face to face with the sufficiency of Christ, and may I have the honor of helping bring that confrontation about, but I am struck by the immensity of the task and the complexity of being both of a son of God and a son of Adam.
God grant me the wisdom, the love, and the humility to know what You would do!
I was waiting at the bus stop today after I got off work, and I saw a twenty-something man storming towards his car, clearly furious at someone across the street. I picked up on this undercurrent soon after he yelled 'fucking retard' at the top of his lungs and slammed his car door with guillotine celerity. (I was impressed with his creativity!) He pealed out of his parking spot, sped across the parking lot and out into the street where a very embarrassed girl crawled into the back seat, closing the door just in time for him to drive furiously away.
Thoughts sparked by this event:
- there is such a thing as white trash.
- why do people knock stereotyping? I'm fascinated by how many times people fall so effortlessly into a ready-made mold that is assembly-line generic.
- how can I intervene?
The other day, I was riding my bike down the street and began hearing the catcalls and whistles of an old beer-bellied man. A bit further down the street walked two girls in the opposite direction, assuredly not 20 years old, ignoring the man completely.
Thoughts sparked by this event:
- there is such a thing as white trash.
- this man is perpetuating the cycle that is so pernicious for much of our society (particularly our urban society): he whistles at women he objectifies. Because no one stops him, he is one more experience assured that women are in fact objects. Because no one stops him, those girls are one humiliation closer to adopting the types of coping mechanisms that say either "I am truly an object" or "I can't expect anything better from men" - both lies that vitiate, that spoil, the very fabric of our urban (and, unfortunately, all too frequently African-American or Latino) communities. A woman who cannot admit her worth will not expect a man to (whether in word or in deed), nor will a woman who believes men to be incapable of such recognition. This effectively frees a man from all responsibility: it leaves him free to be the selfish child he's always been, free to read Maxim magazine while his wife gets her hair done, free to publicly shame his girlfriend from across the street because he is upset, free for unrestrained, incontinent sexual activity with other women. And here we finally are at the all-too-familiar single-parent home, where a child is not made accountable for homework because a mother is working to pay for rent, where college is an exception, where a woman keeps afloat a household because she believed the lie that she did not have the right to EXPECT from her man, and now that man is gone. I believe the family home is the sine qua non, the essential condition, for a healthy society and here this base and depraved fraud is, whistling away our humanity.
- how can I intervene?
In psychology last semester, we discussed the term 'diffusion of responsibility'. It's the idea that you're more likely to receive help with a dropped dinner plate if you're dining with only one or two people. The more guests arrive for your dinner, the more likely it is that you'll be picking that plate up yourself. There is an incredible and nearly-phantasmagoric story of a woman who was robbed (or raped - I can't remember) and murdered in the broad daylight of New York City. Dozens of people witnessed the entire sequence of events and NO ONE INTERVENED. Does this seem impossible to you? It most certainly did to me, but I was immediately reminded of how often I see a person spinning out on the February ice, clearly unable to drive, and I stand with other strangers and we watch, we 'diffuse responsibility', like we are the dumbest creatures alive.
Now, follow me on a necessary diversion. Last week at Jacob's Well (my wonderful church in downtown Kansas City), we discussed the Old Testament story of David and Bathsheba. In 2 chapters, we see David desire Bathsheba, take her for his own, try and frame the consequent pregnancy as legitimate but ultimately kill Bathsheba's husband: all this during the very ascendancy of his kingly prestige.
To be honest, this story has honestly confused me for most of my life: I never know what David is doing wrong and what was just normal for people back then (and don't even get me started on how confusing that ostensibly contradictory thought gets for me! I trust God where things don't make sense yet).
However, I read a bit of a guidebook last winter, pointedly called How to Read the Bible for All It's Worth (Gordon D. Fee and Douglas Stuart). In the section regarding the Old Testament narratives, the authors explain that those who penned these stories were writing to a Jewish audience; they expected that the sins of the characters would be glaringly obvious to a reader who was familiar with the Torah. Indeed, viewing these stories through the lens of the Torah brings the messages and morals inherent in them to the surface, much like one needs special glasses to find form and order in certain 3-D images. It decodes and defuses our reading.
Our pastor supplied some of this necessary Judaic information on Sunday, and it brought to light some important themes. Monarchical rule was a new development for Israel at this point in their history: they begged God for an empirical, human king (so they could be like their neighbors, largely), and he hesitantly anointed young King David (because God, having made man, understood the danger of absolute power in the hands of man who, twisted by carnal nature, inherently tends towards dangerous declarations of self-sufficiency and self-deification). At one pivotal point in the story, King David does indeed claim moral authority. The King of Israel (the people God chose through Abraham to be His blessing to the world) has claimed moral authority, and the profundity of this moment cannot be overestimated.
Now, to begin my journey back to my primary point. While listening to this story, I began to realize that the church of Christ, the adopted children of Israel, those who God still calls to be his blessing in the world, is substantially in a very similar predicament in America. Make no mistake - I'm not saying that America is a nation originally blessed by God to be his Christian 'city on a hill': but his church in America is in the same position that the faithful Jews were when King David declared himself moral arbitor. We are followers of Yahweh, we believe that he is trying to reconcile all things unto himself and that our world and the people in it want this as well (although God is often the victim of bad marketing, and the Desire of every nation is rarely acknowledged as such), and that this has repercussions with how we live our lives, how we vote, what we buy, how we treat others, and what we strive for. When we are truly and actually fulfilling our roles as God's chosen people, we are extensions of Christ himself, bringing true justice, true love, true peace, true reconciliation to our brothers and sisters in humanity.
But we are faced with the question I ask myself in the situations above and in many others where justice, love, peace, and reconciliation are obviously missing and desperately needed: how do I get involved? I desire to be Christ-like because it is the cure for what ails us, but I myself am stuck in the same mire that King David, the cat-calling old man, and the angry twenty-something are stuck in. When I see injustice, my reaction is to fight for it, to raise my voice and strike down the offender: but the Unquestionable was questioned and made no reply. My desire is to avenge the wronged: but God claims that vengeance is his and that he will repay, and I can't help noticing that my vengeance roots itself in malice, in eye-for-an-eye logic, in the same self-deification and claims of moral authority that King David made. But his vengeance necessarily flows from love and from a desire that all should be reconciled unto him - how different must this vengeance be??
I am tired of diffusion of responsibility. I'm grieved by the terminal illnesses that plague our civic life, our communities - my community! I'm outraged by the disrespect that we often show to one another and I do not want to continue standing aside while women are degraded and humiliated, while children grow up without role models and without opportunity, while some men continue to shirk responsibility and others strain under the weight of broken cycles that continue to feed themselves with the dawning of every new day.
What does it look like to be Christ in our world? How do we bring creative imagination (note that word 'creative' - consider the depth of a social, political, economic imagination that CREATES, that beats swords and spears into plowshares and pruning hooks, from tools of death into tools for life) to our world in the name of our God Yahweh? I yearn for the problems we have today to come face to face with the sufficiency of Christ, and may I have the honor of helping bring that confrontation about, but I am struck by the immensity of the task and the complexity of being both of a son of God and a son of Adam.
God grant me the wisdom, the love, and the humility to know what You would do!
first blog....
Well, my title really sums things up. The only thought I have is 'this is my first blog' and then it's nothing but meandering half-thoughts; truly, I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm worried however that I'm in a catch-22: I don't want to start writing because I simply don't feel like I have anything to write about. I have questions, not answers, and recently I've been completely content with merely observing things. I have not had, as my girlfriend's father puts it, 'analysis paralysis'. However, I have an inkling that writing is an important part of reflecting and processing. Often it's the self-observations I've journaled about that really stick with me. The books I've written papers or conversed about are the ones that are really full figured. I have a lazy tendency to read something, consider it just long enough to have a single thought about it, and then throw it flippantly into the recesses of mind. Not surprisingly, these far-flung seeds do not fall on responsive soil and the consequence is a general lack of many convictions or ideas I consider worth writing about! I don't write because I'm not inspired, but I remain uninspired because I don't write.Do not expect a smooth transition here, ye breath-bated expectant adorants. To exhaust my knowledge of physics, forming chaos into order requires a skill I do not possess, but I hope that a blog that gets in motion will tend to stay in motion. Work with me, and let's try to get through this together.Upcoming.....some reflections on a recent sermon, and perhaps some essays on beliefs I do hold strongly. I wish I didn't sound like every blogger ever.
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