kate walsh: tim's house

You might have heard about this album's rise to prominence (I have to say I hadn't). But either way, it's gorgeous. You need to give it a listen.

when pigs look like people

James seems to be written to those who, in large part, are poor and who are suffering at the hands of rich people ('Are not the rich oppressing you and dragging you into court?' 2:6b). And yet they are themselves guilty of 'dishonouring the poor' (2:6a).

Isn't that often the case? It reminds me of the closing scene of Animal Farm where the pigs now stand on their hind legs, like people, and their faces change into human ones.

lust

Lust is the craving for salt of one who is dying of thirst.

(Frederick Buechner, quoted in Wilson, God So Loved The World, p.30)

intense joy & real sadness (james 1:2)

'Pure joy' is a good rendering of the Greek phrase pasan charan (lit. 'all joy') since the word pas here probably suggests intensity (complete and unalloyed joy) rather than exclusivity (nothing but joy)...James does not, then, suggest that Christians facing trials will have no response other than joy, as if we were commanded neverto be saddened by difficulties.

D J Moo, The Letter of James, IVP, p.53

the government of trials

Maybe I'm reading too much into it, but James' use of ἡγέομαι in 1:2 is very interesting. The word can mean a governor, a ruler; it also has the meaning (as it does here) of 'to consider, deem, account, think, count, esteem, have rule over, be governor'.

Is James intimating that trials are not to be determinative for the Christian, that we have the opportunity to be 'over' them, in some sense, and not simply 'under' them? That we can properly make choices with respect to them - for example, to choose in the midst of trials to discover new joy in God?

That is never easy, of course, and sometimes simply isn't possible (for example, during clinical depression) but the possibility of it is heartening.

eschatalogical urgency

So Elijah went from there and found Elisha son of Shaphat. He was plowing with twelve yoke of oxen, and he himself was driving the twelfth pair. Elijah went up to him and threw his cloak around him. Elisha then left his oxen and ran after Elijah. “Let me kiss my father and mother good-by,” he said, “and then I will come with you.”
“Go back,” Elijah replied. “What have I done to you?”
So Elisha left him and went back. He took his yoke of oxen* and slaughtered them. He burned the plowing equipment to cook the meat and gave it to the people, and they ate. Then he set out to follow Elijah and became his attendant. (1 Kings 19:19-21)

Still another said, “I will follow you, Lord; but first let me go back and say good-by to my family.”
Jesus replied, “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.” (Luke 9:61,62)

Plowing. Leaving to follow. Saying goodbye to family. In one case, permitted; in another, disallowed. Why the difference?

The eschatalogical urgency of the coming of the Messiah.

As Kingfishers Catch Fire ( G Manley Hopkins)

As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell's
Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name;
Each mortal thing does one thing and the same:
Deals out that being indoors each one dwells;
Selves — goes itself; myself it speaks and spells,
Crying Whát I dó is me: for that I came.

I say móre: the just man justices;
Keeps grace: thát keeps all his goings graces;
Acts in God's eye what in God's eye he is —
Chríst — for Christ plays in ten thousand places,
Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his
To the Father through the features of men's faces.

between here & gone: three lyrics

Goodnight America
I'm standing at a traffic light somewhere in west L.A.
Waiting for the sign to change then I'll be on my way
The noise, the heat, the crush of cars just robs me of my nerve
Then someone yells and blasts their horn and pins me to the curb
I'm a stranger here, no one you would know
My ship has not come in, but I keep hoping though
And I keep looking past the sun that sets above
Saying to myself goodnight America

And I am driving into Houston on a rain-slicked Texas road
Land so flat and sky so dark I say a prayer to float
Should all at once the San Jacinto surge beyond its banks
Like Noah reaching higher ground I'd offer up my thanks
'Cause I'm a stranger here, no one you would know
I'm just passing through, I am therefore I go
The moon rose in the east, but now it's right above
As I say aloud goodnight America

Midnight, it's hard to see the stars
Out on a highway near Atlanta full of strip malls & used cars
First light, just roll your window down and smell
The salty air perfume of Charleston town

Well I'm looking with a pilgrim's eyes upon some promised land
I'm dreaming with my heart outstretched as if it were my hand
And I'll hit the Cross Bronx just in time to beat the rush hour lock
But I got no clue what time it is from this world's busted clock
Yeah I'm a stranger here, no one you would know
I'm from somewhere else, isn't everybody though
I don't know where I'll be when the sun comes up
But till then sweet dreams, goodnight America.

Between Here And Gone
Tonight, the moon came up, it was nearly full.
Way down here on earth, I could feel its pull.
The weight of gravity or just the lure of light,
Made me want to leave my only home tonight.
Yeah I'm just wondering how we know where we belong.
Is it in a photograph, or a dashboard poet's song?
Will I have missed my chance to right some ancient wrong,
Should I find myself between here and gone?

Now I could grab my keys and peel out in my truck,
With every saint on board bringing me their luck.
I could drive too fast, like a midnight thief,
As if there was a way to outrun the grief.
Yeah I'm just wondering how we know where we belong.
In a song that's left behind in a dream I couldn't wake from.
Could I have felt the brush of a soul that's passing on,
Somewhere in between here and gone?

Up above me, wayward angels, a blur of wings and grace.
One for courage, one for safety, one for just in case.

I thought a light went out, but now the candle shines.
I thought my tears wouldn't stop, then I dried my eyes.
And after all of this, the truth that holds me here,
Is that this emptiness is something not to fear.
Yeah, I'll keep wondering how we know where we belong,
After all the journeys made, and the journeys yet to come.
When I feel like giving up instead of going on,
Somewhere in between.

Yeah, I'm just wondering how we know where we belong.
Is it in the arc of the moon, leaving shadows on the lawn?
In the path of fireflies and a single bird at dawn,
Singing in between here and gone.

Grand Central Station
Got my work clothes on full of sweat and dirt.
All this holy dust upon my face and' shirt.
Heading uptown now, just as the shifts are changing,
To Grand Central Station.
Got my lunch box, got my hard hat in my hand.
I ain't no hero, mister, just a working man.
And all these voices keep on asking me to take them,
To Grand Central Station.
Grand Central Station.

I want to stand beneath the clock just one more time.
Want to wait upon the platform for the Hudson Line.
I guess you're never really all alone, or too far from the pull of home,
And the stars upon that painted dome still shine.

I paid my way out on 42nd Street.
I lit a cigarette and stared down at my feet.
And imagined all the ones that ever stood here waiting,
At Grand Central Station.
Grand Central Station.

Now Hercules is staring down at me.
Next to him's Minerva and Mercury.
I nod to them and start my crawl, flyers covering every wall:
Faces of the missing are all I see.

Tomorrow, I'll be back there, working on the pile.
Going in, coming out, single file.
Before my job is done, there's one more trip I'm making,
To Grand Central Station.
Grand Central Station.

Grand Central Station.
Grand Central Station.

(Mary Chapin Carpenter)

in conclusion

A really helpful quotation on the subject of what a conclusion ought to be and do.

HT: Matt Perman

The Unpardonable Sin

This is a really helpful piece on the unpardonable sin.

HT: Justin Taylor

the great albums (1) - between here & gone

An album that grows out of an increasingly haunted sense of life's transitory nature and the sadness of 9/11 - it doesn't at first blush sound inviting but don't be put off. Between Here And Gone is a masterpiece. Mary Chapin Carpenter combines lyrical grace with musical depth to fashion a powerful statement that invites repeated listens. You won't ever tire of this album.

It begins with a couple of lighter-weight tracks, What would you say to me? and Luna's Gone. But far from being filler, they ease you into the album's depths slowly. What follows is a musical version of Alice Sebold's vision of heaven in her novel The Lovely Bones. MCC doesn't quite capture the colourless disappointment of the novel but there's something bubbling under the surface of My Heaven that will be exposed in the album's core.

And that core is a trio of songs that, in a Simon-esque way (albeit not musically), reflect the life and times of the USA in the early 21st century. Goodnight America, Between Here & Gone and Grand Central Station are songs of weight, depth and a certain majesty. Deep questions, open fears and choking longings are foregrounded for all to see and feel. The dream is breaking apart; souls are passing through, barely felt. And sweat and tears are not enough to redeem the suffering of 9/11, despite the (rightly) celebrated bravery.

'The key to travelling light is to not need very much' she sings in One Small Heart, a brooding piece on the search for freedom, taking the open road. You can sense the splintered heart behind the wheel. A more sinister heart is exposed on The Shelter Of Storms, where the bitter end of human perversity is only unremitting, unexplained sadness.

Of course, this being MCC, there's a song about Girls Like Me, who don't fit, live alone, like a cold beer, aren't what most men are looking for (more fool them). But this time there's a happy ending: Elysium is a celebration of love-at-last and is a joyous end to a solemn yet tender album.

And I know I haven't begun to do it justice.

kinda fonda kindle

Well, the app that is, not the device (I'm sure I'd be fond of the device, too, so if you were thinking to send one my way, don't delay).

As the result of some discussion on a PDA/Smartphone website, I decided to install the Kindle app that's available for the iPod Touch (and iPhone, too, of course) and see if I could buy a book for it (the discussion, for your interest, was over the non-availability of ebooks for the UK).

Well, it worked. And I got an absolute steal. For $2.35, I got the Packer/Dever collection, In My Place Condemned He Stood. Amazon UK price for the paperback is £8.99.

I think I might have to go browsing again...

padding it out?

The recent unveiling of the iPad has led to some interesting discussions about the future of publishing, especially for the news media. But it also presents huge opportunities for Christian publishers/ministries - take a look at this article and then imagine, say, the new Keller book in digital format, with audio & video clips, links to material and other resources on the web, plus the ease of the publisher updating material as & where necessary. Oh, and not forgetting the user's ability to add their own notes into the 'book'.

Great opportunities, methinks.

speaking the gospel

I'm so thankful for both the example and the content of this talk. It's a humbling listen; it's also thrilling.

HT: John Dyer.

enya: on your shore

The singing is lovely, the lyrics (by Roma Ryan) are beautifully crafted. Deep waters, indeed.

My favourite track from her Watermark album.

Strange how my heart beats
To find myself upon your shore.
Strange how I still feel
My loss of comfort gone before.

Cool waves wash over
and drift away with dreams of youth
so time is stolen
I cannot hold you long enough.

And so this is where I should be now
Days and nights falling by
Days and nights falling by me.
I know of a dream I should be holding
days and nights falling by
Days and nights falling by me.

Soft blue horizons
reach far into my childhood days
as you are rising
to bring me my forgotten ways

Strange how I falter
to find I'm standing in deep water
Strange how my heart beats
to find I'm standing on your shore

no going back

Now Abraham was old, well advanced in years, and the Lord had blessed him in everything. Abraham said to his servant, the senior one in his household who was in charge of everything he had, “Put your hand under my thigh so that I may make you solemnly promise by the Lord, the God of heaven and the God of the earth: You must not acquire a wife for my son from the daughters of the Canaanites, among whom I am living. You must go instead to my country and to my relatives to find a wife for my son Isaac.”

The servant asked him, “What if the woman is not willing to come back with me to this land? Must I then take your son back to the land from which you came?”

“Be careful never to take my son back there!” Abraham told him. “The Lord, the God of heaven, who took me from my father’s house and the land of my relatives, promised me with a solemn oath, ‘To your descendants I will give this land.’ He will send his angel before you so that you may find a wife for my son from there. But if the woman is not willing to come back with you, you will be free from this oath of mine. But you must not take my son back there!” (Genesis 24:1-8)

Yet another said, “I will follow you, Lord, but first let me say goodbye to my family.” Jesus said to him, “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.” (Luke 9:61,62)

Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself to have attained this. Instead I am single-minded: Forgetting the things that are behind and reaching out for the things that are ahead, with this goal in mind, I strive toward the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. (Phil. 3:14)

a forgotten time-bomb

the incipient danger of self-reliance

The point is to keep him feeling that he has something, other than the Enemy and courage the Enemy supplies, to fall back on, so that what was intended to be a total commitment to duty becomes honeycombed all through with little unconscious reservations. By building up a series of imaginary expedients to prevent 'the worst coming to the worst' you may produce, at that level of his will which he is not aware of, a determination that the worst shall not come to the worst.

C S Lewis, The Screwtape Letters, p.163

Today

would have been Dad's 90th birthday.

In gladdest memory of him, here's a shot of Dad, Patrick & me at the RAF Valley airshow back in 1975. The photo was taken by my (then future) brother-in-law, John Davies. Patrick was 15 and I was nearly 12. It was a lovely day.

My shirt was originally a white nylon school shirt that Mam had dyed purple.

the dangers of middle-age

(Screwtape urges his nephew to do his best to keep his human patient alive, because time is a great ally to their work...)

The long, dull, monotonous years of middle-age are excellent campaigning weather. You see, it is so hard for these creatures to persevere. The routine of adversity, the gradual decay of youthful loves and youthful hopes, the quiet despair (hardly felt as pain) of ever overcoming the chronic temptations with which we have again and again defeated them, the drabness which we create in their lives and the inarticulate resentment with which we teach them to respond to it - all this provides admirable opportunities of wearing out a soul by attrition.

C S Lewis, The Screwtape Letters, p.155