The Light, the Heat

When I study in public places, I frequently use music to block out the conversations around me. (Basically, I want to be where people are, so I don't sleep, but I also don't want any meaningful contact with them.) Tonight while I studied for my ethics midterm, I gave two spins to Peter Gabriel's So, his 1986 masterpiece that produced six singles (impressive considering the album has only nine tracks). It revived all my admiration. No other voice approaches Gabriel's smoky howl, and few songwriters can paint such textured beauty on the canvas of rock...if that's even what this is. So is proof that the 80's weren't a total wash.

For those of you whose only exposure to "In Your Eyes" involves John Cusack and a boombox, I give you the extended version from Secret World Live. If you don't have time for the whole cut, just watch the first minute to see what the crowd does with the lighters.

The Marvelous Complexity of the Heart of God

The fact that "God is a righteous judge, and a God who feels indignation every day" (Psalm 7:11) makes it all the more amazing that at the very same time he "is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance" (2 Pet 3:9). Every day, God feels indignation that his name is not more praised and that the world he made perfect is so full of injustice. And every day he withholds his anger, that more may repent and find him to be overflowing with love and mercy. What a God!

Ecclesiastes, the Trinity Tarn, and a Subtle Allusion to The Shawshank Redemption

As I was walking briskly across campus towards the Barilla office this morning, I noticed a tree lying on its side in the tarn (this is how I was instructed during my first semester to refer to the pond behind the mansion; I never knew until just now that this term is reserved for mountain ponds). The sudden arrival of spring, with its attendant rain and thaw, had apparently turned to mud the once firm earth that held the tree leaning precariously over the water, and it toppled with what I idealize in my mind as a mighty splash, though it was probably nothing of the sort. Two geese, oblivious to the overnight calamity, paddled indifferently nearby.

The scene brought two thoughts almost simultaneously to mind. I thought first of Ecclesiastes 11:3 ("...and if a tree falls to the south or to the north, in the place where the tree falls, there it will lie.") and how R. C. Sproul became a Christian after the captain of his college football team shared it with him (I know, I can't believe it either, but it happened). The second, more lasting thought was this: time is actually passing. That tree has irreversibly fallen; it will never stand again. Spring has come, and we will never have that winter again. Other winters, sure, but that one's gone for good, or soon will be. Those geese will be back for a few seasons, but then they'll be gone, too. Time is passing. Every sunset closes a chapter we won't get back and can't rewrite.

I'm not trying to be a fear-monger. I'm glad spring is here. Soon we'll have flowers shooting up and trees squeezing out buds. The geese will start preparing a site for their eggs, and after that, goslings. I'll probably forget all about the tree and blog about how life is full of new beginnings. But God's message for me today was that tree, and Ecclesiastes 11:3. The next verse reads, "He who observes the wind will not sow, and he who regards the clouds will not reap." If you wait for the perfect moment, you'll still be waiting when the tree falls. Get busy living, or get busy dying.

If you're not living the life you want to live, what are you waiting for?

Grace, amazing

Tonight at Care Group we were reminiscing about the people and events God used to draw us to himself. He demonstrated the greatness of his power and the creativity of his work in one woman's story particularly. She shared that the medium God used to bring her to clarity about Christ and his work for us was "Jesus Christ Superstar," the early-70's rock opera that presents Judas Iscariot as a tragic figure. A tragic figure! I don't remember the play well, but none of my memories are of a clear explanation of the meaning of Jesus' life, death, and resurrection.

Hearing her story comforted me for two reasons. First, this shows me the strength of God to save and the mighty reach of his grace. When he decides to save, he does so, and he'll use even a misleading (heretical?) musical to do it. His grace shines brightly even from dirty bulbs. And secondly, this encouraged me as a fledgling preacher. I have so much room to grow in expounding Scripture. But I have to think that I can preach the gospel at least as well as Andrew Lloyd Webber, and if God can make Christ known through "Jesus Christ Superstar," he can certainly use me as well!

I like blogging, but...

...I'm not crazy about how much blogging tempts me to think about myself. I thought about the blog within one minute of waking up this morning, and before I was out of bed I was already fiddling with the layout. I tried different colors for the text. I want to seem artsy, but I don't want to seem like I'm trying too hard. Then, in the shower, I was contemplating whether I should write something in the "About Me" box. Something profound, but not pretentious. Something spiritually significant, but not preachy or heavy-handed. No, just leave it. The internal dialogue continued in my devotions. I just had a good thought - should I blog about it? How would I phrase it? Does it seem like I'm showing off? Wait, I'm supposed to be praying!

The wretched truth of the matter is that I'm a selfish person. I care deeply, idolatrously, about what people think of me, and I want to manage my image to earn your worship. Blogging's just the way it's coming out today. I haven't decided whether I want to move forward with blogging (is this battle with self-preoccupation going to be mainly sanctifying or mainly discouraging?), but I know that blogging's not to blame. My great need is for inner transformation, for cleansing and quickening, for the Spirit to so flood my heart with visions of the greatness of God that thinking about myself seems insufferably mundane in comparison. Let it be so for all of us!

Launching right in

Andrew Osenga is playing in Elmhurst tomorrow. I'm not going to see him. I would, but it just so happens that the only other Nashville-based acoustic storyteller named Andrew I like better is playing in Sugar Grove at the same time. (If you like good things, you'll be there, too.)

I doubt Andy will notice my absence...but just in case, I'll make it up to him by sharing the song that has occupied my mental down-time more than any other the past few days.

Without further ado, I give you "Swing Wide the Glimmering Gates." If you like it, you can download two free EP's on his website. If you don't, what's your problem?