Sunday, September 30, 2007
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Perfect Remedy
I was listening to the new David Crowder Band album, Remedy, on the way to work this morning. And, well, I won't say it's the best album of all time, but listening to it drew me into the right lane on the Garden State Parkway. Yes, that's right, I was compelled to drive in the slow lane because I wanted to bask in the glory of this music for as long as possible. I even hoped that exit 131 would magically disappear from the face of this good state.
If God is going to choose a lineup of praise leaders in heaven, Mr. Crowder and his band must be on the list.
The music does what all good music should do: it made me feel infinite...infinitely loved, infinitely hopeful, infinitely humbled, infinitely unworthy, infinitely joyful, and infinitely sorrowful.
The one song that I love more than any other right now is "The Glory Of It All," the first track on the CD. It is absolutely wonderful, the perfect remedy to all I've been suffocated by lately. Whenever I listen to it, my throat tightens up, my palms sweat, and I want to sell all I have, leave everyone and everything behind, sprint into a deep forest, and fall prostrate before my Beloved, gripping his ankles with my trembling hands, with tears in my eyes and words of repentance, gratitude and adoration flowing off the tip of my wretched tongue...forever.
I long for each and every word in this song, more than anything else in the world right now.
I'm pining. I don't want to be the same.
David Crowder Band - The Glory Of It All
If God is going to choose a lineup of praise leaders in heaven, Mr. Crowder and his band must be on the list.
The music does what all good music should do: it made me feel infinite...infinitely loved, infinitely hopeful, infinitely humbled, infinitely unworthy, infinitely joyful, and infinitely sorrowful.
The one song that I love more than any other right now is "The Glory Of It All," the first track on the CD. It is absolutely wonderful, the perfect remedy to all I've been suffocated by lately. Whenever I listen to it, my throat tightens up, my palms sweat, and I want to sell all I have, leave everyone and everything behind, sprint into a deep forest, and fall prostrate before my Beloved, gripping his ankles with my trembling hands, with tears in my eyes and words of repentance, gratitude and adoration flowing off the tip of my wretched tongue...forever.
I long for each and every word in this song, more than anything else in the world right now.
I'm pining. I don't want to be the same.
David Crowder Band - The Glory Of It All
At the start
He was there
He was there
In the end
He'll be there
He'll be there
And after all
Our hands have wrought
He forgives
Oh, the glory of it all
Is He came here
For the rescue of us all
That we may live
For the glory of it all
Oh, the glory of it all
All is lost
Find Him there
Find Him there
After night
Dawn is there
Dawn is there
And after all
Falls apart
He repairs
He repairs
Oh, He is here
With redemption from the fall
That we may live
For the glory of it all
Oh, the glory of it all
After night
Comes a light
Dawn is here
Dawn is here
It's a new day, a new day
Oh, everything will change
Things will never be the same
We will never be the same
Oh, everything will change
Things will never be the same
We will never be same
He was there
He was there
In the end
He'll be there
He'll be there
And after all
Our hands have wrought
He forgives
Oh, the glory of it all
Is He came here
For the rescue of us all
That we may live
For the glory of it all
Oh, the glory of it all
All is lost
Find Him there
Find Him there
After night
Dawn is there
Dawn is there
And after all
Falls apart
He repairs
He repairs
Oh, He is here
With redemption from the fall
That we may live
For the glory of it all
Oh, the glory of it all
After night
Comes a light
Dawn is here
Dawn is here
It's a new day, a new day
Oh, everything will change
Things will never be the same
We will never be the same
Oh, everything will change
Things will never be the same
We will never be same
Books, Controversy and Erudition
Well, if life is a reflection of the Bible, then I am stuck in Ecclesiastes right now.
I guess different people have different means of coping with their Ecclesiastes seasons. Some splurge on clothes, some gorge themselves with all kinds of delightful foods, while some drink themselves into oblivion. As for me, I think that I buy books.
In the past four weeks, I've purchased the following books:
This is not to mention the few books that I already have in possession and desire to read, along with a list of other books that I shall purchase as soon as I complete this list.
It's funny how the things I once abhorred are now the things I take solace and even joy in.
Has anyone been following the recent capers of Mahmoud Ahmadinejad? Call me a sucker for hype, but he interests me. Don't take that to mean that I admire the man or back his beliefs. He just amuses me for some odd reason, in the same way that he seems to be amused whenever he is questioned about his outrageous stances on touchy issues.
During a bathroom stop today I thought about his whole visit to Columbia and pondered two things:
Lastly, for all of you out there who love to learn, I recommend this site.
Cheers.
I guess different people have different means of coping with their Ecclesiastes seasons. Some splurge on clothes, some gorge themselves with all kinds of delightful foods, while some drink themselves into oblivion. As for me, I think that I buy books.
In the past four weeks, I've purchased the following books:
- Wild at Heart, by John Eldredge (read)
- Phantastes, by George MacDonald (currently reading)
- Sir Gibbie, by George MacDonald
- The Princess and the Goblin, by George MacDonald
- The Everlasting Man, by G.K. Chesterton
- Walden, by Henry David Thoreau
- Fooled by Randomness, by Nassim Nicholas Taleb
- Stumbling on Happiness, by Daniel Gilbert
- Suite Francaise, by Irene Nemirovsky
- Phantastes, by George MacDonald (currently reading)
- Sir Gibbie, by George MacDonald
- The Princess and the Goblin, by George MacDonald
- The Everlasting Man, by G.K. Chesterton
- Walden, by Henry David Thoreau
- Fooled by Randomness, by Nassim Nicholas Taleb
- Stumbling on Happiness, by Daniel Gilbert
- Suite Francaise, by Irene Nemirovsky
This is not to mention the few books that I already have in possession and desire to read, along with a list of other books that I shall purchase as soon as I complete this list.
It's funny how the things I once abhorred are now the things I take solace and even joy in.
Has anyone been following the recent capers of Mahmoud Ahmadinejad? Call me a sucker for hype, but he interests me. Don't take that to mean that I admire the man or back his beliefs. He just amuses me for some odd reason, in the same way that he seems to be amused whenever he is questioned about his outrageous stances on touchy issues.
During a bathroom stop today I thought about his whole visit to Columbia and pondered two things:
1. It's never as much about what someone is saying as it is about who is saying it. This must have been a big part of why Jesus conjured up such a storm, because what he said and who he was were one in the same.
2. I wonder why God chose the time he did to deliver Jesus into that manger. The president of Iran comes to New York City and causes an uproar not only in the physical locations he was at, but online, on the radio waves, on television, and in countless conversations across the world. There are so many outlets for the discussion and dissemination of information nowadays, which makes it so much easier for someone to get their message out, regardless of its content or absurdity. But Jesus came at a time when the Internet, radio, television, and the quick transmission of information by any means did not exist. Why?
I can only conclude that it was to take away any doubt whatsoever that the spread of the gospel was God's work, not man's.
2. I wonder why God chose the time he did to deliver Jesus into that manger. The president of Iran comes to New York City and causes an uproar not only in the physical locations he was at, but online, on the radio waves, on television, and in countless conversations across the world. There are so many outlets for the discussion and dissemination of information nowadays, which makes it so much easier for someone to get their message out, regardless of its content or absurdity. But Jesus came at a time when the Internet, radio, television, and the quick transmission of information by any means did not exist. Why?
I can only conclude that it was to take away any doubt whatsoever that the spread of the gospel was God's work, not man's.
Lastly, for all of you out there who love to learn, I recommend this site.
Cheers.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Phatastic Quotes
I've been reading a lot lately. Well, a lot for me...which probably isn't all that much for a lot of other people out there. I'm currently reading Phantastes by George MacDonald. I chose to read this because C.S. Lewis pointed this book out as one of the more influential books he read when he was younger. I wanted to see what would impress Clive Staples, and though I'm only halfway through, I can already see why he liked this book so much.
It's a pure joy to see someone express such deep truths in the context of a fairytale.
I won't try to summarize the book or anything, but here are some lines from the book that stood out to me.
It's a pure joy to see someone express such deep truths in the context of a fairytale.
I won't try to summarize the book or anything, but here are some lines from the book that stood out to me.
"Ah! that is always the way with you men; you believe nothing the first time; and it is foolish enough to let mere repetition convince you of what you consider in itself unbelievable."
"For there is an old prophecy in our woods that one day we shall all be men and women like you. Do you know anything about it in your region? Shall I be very happy when I am a woman? I fear not, for it is always in nights like these that I feel like one. But I long to be a woman for all that."
"Oh, no. They are all disagreeable selfish creatures--(what horrid men they will make, if it be true!)--but this one has a hole in his heart that nobody knows of but one or two; and he is always trying to fill it up, but he cannot. That must be what he wanted you for. I wonder if he will ever be a man. If he is, I hope they will kill him."
"What distressed me most--more even than my own folly--was the perplexing question, How can beauty and ugliness dwell so near? Even with her altered complexion and her face of dislike; disenchanted of the belief that clung around her; known for a living, walking sepulchre, faithless, deluding, traitorous; I felt, notwithstanding all this, that she was beautiful."
""Very true! you speak like a sensible man, sir. We have but few sensible folks round about us. Now, you would hardly credit it, but my wife believes every fairy-tale that ever was written. I cannot account for it. She is a most sensible woman in everything else."
"But should not that make you treat her belief with something of respect, though you cannot share in it yourself?"
"Yes, that is all very well in theory; but when you come to live every day in the midst of absurdity, it is far less easy to behave respectfully to it."
"Afterwards I learned, that the best way to manage some kinds of painful thoughts, is to dare them to do their worst; to let them lie and gnaw at your heart till they are tired; and you find you still have a residue of life they cannot kill."
"Why are all reflections lovelier than what we call the reality?--not so grand or so strong, it may be, but always lovelier? Fair as is the gliding sloop on the shining sea, the wavering, trembling, unresting sail below is fairer still. Yea, the reflecting ocean itself, reflected in the mirror, has a wondrousness about its waters that somewhat vanishes when I turn towards itself. All mirrors are magic mirrors. The commonest room is a room in a poem when I turn to the glass. (And this reminds me, while I write, of a strange story which I read in the fairy palace, and of which I will try to make a feeble memorial in its place.) In whatever way it may be accounted for, of one thing we may be sure, that this feeling is no cheat; for there is no cheating in nature and the simple unsought feelings of the soul. There must be a truth involved in it, though we may but in part lay hold of the meaning. Even the memories of past pain are beautiful; and past delights, though beheld only through clefts in the grey clouds of sorrow, are lovely as Fairy Land. But how have I wandered into the deeper fairyland of the soul, while as yet I only float towards the fairy palace of Fairy Land! The moon, which is the lovelier memory or reflex of the down-gone sun, the joyous day seen in the faint mirror of the brooding night, had rapt me away."
"As in all sweetest music, a tinge of sadness was in every note. Nor do we know how much of the pleasures even of life we owe to the intermingled sorrows. Joy cannot unfold the deepest truths, although deepest truth must be deepest joy. Cometh white-robed Sorrow, stooping and wan, and flingeth wide the doors she may not enter. Almost we linger with Sorrow for every love."
"For there is an old prophecy in our woods that one day we shall all be men and women like you. Do you know anything about it in your region? Shall I be very happy when I am a woman? I fear not, for it is always in nights like these that I feel like one. But I long to be a woman for all that."
"Oh, no. They are all disagreeable selfish creatures--(what horrid men they will make, if it be true!)--but this one has a hole in his heart that nobody knows of but one or two; and he is always trying to fill it up, but he cannot. That must be what he wanted you for. I wonder if he will ever be a man. If he is, I hope they will kill him."
"What distressed me most--more even than my own folly--was the perplexing question, How can beauty and ugliness dwell so near? Even with her altered complexion and her face of dislike; disenchanted of the belief that clung around her; known for a living, walking sepulchre, faithless, deluding, traitorous; I felt, notwithstanding all this, that she was beautiful."
""Very true! you speak like a sensible man, sir. We have but few sensible folks round about us. Now, you would hardly credit it, but my wife believes every fairy-tale that ever was written. I cannot account for it. She is a most sensible woman in everything else."
"But should not that make you treat her belief with something of respect, though you cannot share in it yourself?"
"Yes, that is all very well in theory; but when you come to live every day in the midst of absurdity, it is far less easy to behave respectfully to it."
"Afterwards I learned, that the best way to manage some kinds of painful thoughts, is to dare them to do their worst; to let them lie and gnaw at your heart till they are tired; and you find you still have a residue of life they cannot kill."
"Why are all reflections lovelier than what we call the reality?--not so grand or so strong, it may be, but always lovelier? Fair as is the gliding sloop on the shining sea, the wavering, trembling, unresting sail below is fairer still. Yea, the reflecting ocean itself, reflected in the mirror, has a wondrousness about its waters that somewhat vanishes when I turn towards itself. All mirrors are magic mirrors. The commonest room is a room in a poem when I turn to the glass. (And this reminds me, while I write, of a strange story which I read in the fairy palace, and of which I will try to make a feeble memorial in its place.) In whatever way it may be accounted for, of one thing we may be sure, that this feeling is no cheat; for there is no cheating in nature and the simple unsought feelings of the soul. There must be a truth involved in it, though we may but in part lay hold of the meaning. Even the memories of past pain are beautiful; and past delights, though beheld only through clefts in the grey clouds of sorrow, are lovely as Fairy Land. But how have I wandered into the deeper fairyland of the soul, while as yet I only float towards the fairy palace of Fairy Land! The moon, which is the lovelier memory or reflex of the down-gone sun, the joyous day seen in the faint mirror of the brooding night, had rapt me away."
"As in all sweetest music, a tinge of sadness was in every note. Nor do we know how much of the pleasures even of life we owe to the intermingled sorrows. Joy cannot unfold the deepest truths, although deepest truth must be deepest joy. Cometh white-robed Sorrow, stooping and wan, and flingeth wide the doors she may not enter. Almost we linger with Sorrow for every love."
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
It's that time of year again...
If you'd like to join my fantasy NBA league, please go here and join league ID 4074, password "Jesus."
Here's the info on the league:
For those who don't like to read, basically it's an 11-category head-to-head league, live draft on Saturday October 20 at 8 p.m., roster updates once a week by Monday.
Let me know if you have any questions.
Prepare to get whupped.
Here's the info on the league:
| League ID#: | 4074 |
| League Name: | The League |
| Password: | Jesus |
| Custom League URL: | http://basketball.fantasysports.yahoo.com/league/the_league |
| Draft Type: | Live Draft |
| Draft Time: | Sat Oct 20 8:00pm EDT |
| Max Teams: | 20 |
| Scoring Type: | Head-to-Head |
| Max Moves: | No maximum |
| Max Trades: | No maximum |
| Trade Reject Time: | 2 |
| Trade End Date: | No trade deadline |
| Waiver Time: | 2 days |
| Can't Cut List Provider: | Yahoo! Sports |
| Trade Review: | League Votes |
| Post Draft Players: | Follow Waiver Rules |
| Weekly Deadline: | Weekly on Monday |
| Start Scoring on: | Week 1 |
| Roster Positions: | PG, SG, G, SF, PF, F, C, Util, Util, BN, BN, BN |
| Stat Categories: | FG%, FT%, 3PTM, 3PT%, PTS, OREB, DREB, AST, ST, BLK, TO |
For those who don't like to read, basically it's an 11-category head-to-head league, live draft on Saturday October 20 at 8 p.m., roster updates once a week by Monday.
Let me know if you have any questions.
Prepare to get whupped.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
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