Morning Shower Reflections on Psalm 144

  1 Blessed be the LORD, my rock,

who trains my hands for war,

and my fingers for battle

 [to wage with violence the war against the violence of the passions]

2 he is my steadfast love and my fortress,

my stronghold and my deliverer,

my shield and he in whom I take refuge,

who subdues peoples under me.

[whose cross I cling to,

my every hope and succor for the destitute]

3 O LORD, what is man that you regard him,

or the son of man that you think of him?

[What love is this?  That you would bequeath divinity unto him,

To, through death, not only conquer death,

Not only restore him to his to former glory,

But invite him further up and further in.]

4 Man is like a breath;

his days are like a passing shadow.

[what is his measure of being compared to yours?]

5 Bow your heavens, O LORD, and come down!

Touch the mountains so that they smoke!

6 Flash forth the lightning and scatter them;

send out your arrows and rout them!

7 Stretch out your hand from on high;

rescue me and deliver me from the many waters,

from the hand of foreigners,

8 whose mouths speak lies

              and whose right hand is a right hand of falsehood.

              [Guard us from every strike of the enemy,

              and through the power of your cross,

              Lay low those who evil and  good hating demons

              who formerly had the victory over us.]

On the Giving of Gifts

Why do we give gifts during Christmas? Obviously, the answer to this question is multi dimensioned, nuanced, and expresses itself in like a gem with many facets, each colored and beautiful to look upon. The first and foremost reason to give gifts is to be imitators of the Holy Trinity. The Father gave his one and only Son for us and the Son willingly gave himself for us. Christmas is meaningless without Christ and the reality of Reality becoming incarnate. This has been elaborated upon in theologically significant and more poetic ways than I can even hope to imitate, so I shall not dicsuss it further. But it is where I am coming from. Second, and what a close second it is, we give out of love to our friends and family.
But what is a gift? This evening I was given a very good gift; better than I could have asked for and more meaningful than I can express. My aunt and uncle gave me a humidor. It's nothing more than a box made of wood that holds cigars and is designed to keep them from drying out. My uncle had in turn received it from my grandfather, who had himself used it for his own cigars.
I propose this, much in contradiction to Magritte and his La trahison des images where he proposes that his pipe ”n'est pas une pipe,” that gift-giving is the giving of yourself. Let us look at what Magritte says. He states that ”this is not a pipe.” The picture is of a pipe and, although Magritte is correct to say you cannot smoke it, I think he is wrong to say it is not a pipe. While it is not a pipe proper, it is an image of a pipe and resembles the pipe proper and points to it.
I think this is what gift-giving is, the giving of images of yourself. You are the ”yourself” proper and the gift points to you. Thus, with my newly treasured (and I really do mean this in a non sentimental dribble way) humidor, it points to my grandfather and to my aunt and uncle. I literally possess a piece of my grandfather.
What does this say about gifts then? I think it certainly says that all gifts are not equal, which is the main reason I am writing this. I hate gift-cards. I think they are lousy gifts and here is why: They have no permanence in our lives. If we give gifts out of love in order to be remembered and gift card fails in the second part of gift giving. A gift-card does not really point to the gift-giver, and even if it does, it does not do so for very long because it is spent. However, gifts that last are the best gifts. The sense of permanence in one's own life is extremely valuable. It shows that the person is with you and will remain with you. We are our gifts and we should give ourselves well. Give in love. Give in truth. Give in peace.

What am I thankful for?

I developed a short list of what I am thankful for when I was talking with a friend in the early hours of Friday morning.  This has caused me to reflect on the many blessings that are given to me continually.

I am thankful...
For good friend and roommate that is willing to pray, screw around, laugh, and suffer with me.
That I didn't die in my motorcycle accident.
That I am not starving and desperate for money and food.
That I am given an abundance of grace at all times even though I am continually sinful.
For booze.
For good books and long days spent mostly in bed.
For a family that loves me even though I am a complete asshole.
For the generosity of my friends' families and their willingness to accept us into their own families.
For blanket to hide under that keep me warm in my 45 degree house.
For friends that pursue truth rather than defend their beliefs without examination.
For friends that put up with my antics.
That I have an overly large bed to sleep on. (I used to find myself wedged between the mattress and the wall all the time on my old twin mattress)
That I still feel remorse for sin.
For the saints that watch over us and guide us.
For the writings of C.S. Lewis and Tolkien who have profoundly shaped my views on beauty and story.
For the beauty of the female figure in a non-lustful way.
For the joy of children.
That life is meaning-full even though many things are futile.
That our culture fated to die an ugly death can escape death itself.
For Chipotle.
Did I mention booze yet?
For gaming and the creation of worlds.
For art and the world therein.
For the concept of infinity.
For logic.
That Christ has trampled death by death.
That Christmas is coming soon.
For Calvin and Hobbes.
For Dr. Eric Brook, Dr. Scott Key, Dr. Jeff Mooney, and Dr. Skubik.
For those who text me at all hours of the night with funny jokes and ask for conversation. It may make me feel more important than I actually am, but I enjoy it.
For tears of repentance.
For music, it is one of the ways I know that I am alive.
For theology that is not shallow or broken down to the smallest necessary parts, but seeks fullness and unity with the Holy Trinity.
For Grooveshark (which is waaayy better that Pandora).
That I have better taste in food than my friends and the ability to do something about it. (You guys really don't know what you are missing)
For those that I love, incomplete and lacking as it may be.

How's that for a continuance of what I started?

Three Poems

I have been editing some of my old poems (and some new ones too) and here is the result:

Hope

Do not fret and do not fear
These sounds of night, these scary frights
Which cannot be here to stay

Take hold of what is most dear
For, with the dawn comes Light. Yes, Light
To scatter monsters away.

Untitled

All good roads lead on to the sea
Forever my heart is there in search of thee
Cursed to wander the endless beaches
Hearing the many voices' chorus;
Gulls crying, the oceans sighing
Unmatched in their beauty
But for the beauty I’d had in thee

Untitled (unfinished)

She dances by moonlight with flowers in her hair,
Clad in silver beauty and raiment, oh, so white
Are such flowers worthy to grace one so fair?

Her voice sweet music, causing my heart to long
for the unattainable. Like the dawn shatters night,
I am made undone by the pure sound of her song.

With bright eyes, shining clear in the night,
A smile as radiant as the Morning Star,
Locks golden red which serve to remind me of that which men are.

Mortals whose eyes are not counted worthy her beauty to see
And yet, here I, mortal though I art,
Gaze entranced upon her though possessor of immortal beauty is she.

I once saw a fair maiden in a woodland glade;
How could I return to a world made of dust and decay
With the mere thought of her which is likened unto a taste of beauty imperishable?

She dances by moonlight with flowers in her hair,
Singing as the world passes her by without a care.
Can one such as I hope to catch even a smile?

The memory of beauty, my desire cannot even begin to fill,
If a single smile I should possess,
I would count myself forever blessed. Thus, hope I will.

Alien Nation

Sitting at home on a Wednesday night halfway angry at the world halfway feeling sorry for myself in the most selfish of ways.

I peruse the Interwebs in search of some consolation; I figure I can find something to vindicate my present attitude.  Suddenly reality gives me a huge slap in the face.  I search a dark-humor site of people that post "funny" snippets of their lives but are really just venting to a world that doesn't care except in the utility of their problems' comic value.  As I am searching so I can laugh and enjoy other's misfortune I come across this:


"Dear Dad, 
Please stop coming into my room in the middle of the night.

Sincerely, Anonymous." 

Clarity returns; vision is no longer clouded by self-delusion and self-pity.  I have no idea if the above statement is some real person crying out for help among strangers caught up in their problems of their own, or if it is just some colossal asshole making light of a very serious issue.  I have no idea how stop this.  I have no idea who to inform.

My heart breaks; my blood boils.  This cannot stand! How can this be?  But in five minutes, I will go back to loving only me.

An Old Prayer on Abject Poverty

February 2, 2010

Lord God,

I am filled with such wickedness: my relationship with you and with others is in shambles. I hate the sin and disordered desires that are within me, but only sometimes. I believe that my sin is evil, unholy, and wrong, but only sometimes...

Lord, help my unbelief.

My mind is poisoned. I cannot think straight; my perception of the way the world actually is has become twisted and skewed. The world bears your glory and instructs us in right actions, but does not speak the same to me as it used to. I have a false perception of the way the world is. Does this make me insane? My mind is broken and shattered... discontinuity of action and belief is my only constant.

Lord, renew my mind.

My heart is heavy and weary. I grow tired of guilt and shame. I am weak from futile self-struggle. I am unworthy to ask anything from you, but I have nothing, I am destitute. If my mind is broken, my desires undisciplined, and my heart weary, what do I have left? What do I have to live for?

Holy Trinity, help me find rest. Be my rest.

I have shamed your name, spent the gifts you have given me, and am left in a state of brokenness, yet you run to me and embrace me as your son.

"Christ our God, who art one with the Father and the Holy Spirit, who trampled down death by death, save us."

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner.

New blog, same old story

I am starting this blog to replace my old one because I did not like the title. Now this is not a change of shirts or taking off dirty underwear, it's about what I meant when I said "neo-orthodoxy." I can no longer agree to that name because the truth is not new. Truth is revealed to us and we can actually apprehend it, but it is not a new thing. Orthodoxy, meaning "right belief," is not new. There is a correct way to believe and correct things to believe, this blog is about searching for that.