O Father God, please mortify And put to death my sin. Please clear the weeds and burn the chaff And purify within. Oh Holy God, the Lord of all: Enthroned Yourself above All worldly, fleshy, earthly things That I may know Your love. Cast down the idols I’ve emplaced And break them in the dust. […]
Do you remember the first time you read through The Hobbit? Trying to figure out the riddles – unless you chose to cheat – trying to think around that one specific corner. And unless you are very clever, you couldn’t quite find the trick, couldn’t quite turn that corner by yourself Until one or […]
A riddle – a paradox – a reality that cannot possibly be true until you’re shown the turn – the trick – the way around that specific corner you were so sure was impossible a moment before He opened your eyes.
Broken strains of a breaking float through the wall. Small voices and a cappella hymns. My older kids’ Sunday school class was singing this Sunday morning, and I could hear their voices in my class next door.
Six seconds of freefall in the gloaming until God gives you a shock, and then it’s a steady-slow descent to the ground, racing the sun. Picture stolen from here. My jump was combat equipment, of course.
One solid crunch underfoot and it’s 2006, treading out acorn paste into names graven long ago, on the way to Daniel Hall in my ancestral home in the foothills.
Pull back into your chest, deep, back, and down. Train your eyes, your sights, down the lane and find the one thing you seek in that sea of green and blue. Pull back. Push down. And feel, and see, and hear your hope arc up, and fall down. And if you are good – or […]
I wonder why music has always appealed. Why from just after time, rhythm and melody have entranced and befuddled; Plato to Zwigli; Aristotle to everyone else. Something about that sharp split of air by the long-sustained violin, or the flute pulsing to breath-beat, veering off towards separation. Something about families wailing, but wailing together, in unison […]
To feel your breath in your fingers, as once I read it, is to receive instant feedback, immediate expression of your art; to hold in your hands, tunes older than you. And out the back door with the punters. All those who don’t understand this joy. This ancient joy. A little St. Patrick’s […]
“The glass will never be clear,” he told her. And though she did not want it to be so, That did not change it to less than true. She could see that whatever rested on it Lent its color to the outside world, and The more she polished it, the more it Reflected naught but […]