strangely dim

in the clamorous demands of the ego and the flesh, it is always open to us to wait on God. all we have to do is, as it were, to make a little clearing in the wild jungle of our human will, and then keep our rendezvous with our creator. He is sure to come; His presence falls like a comforting shadow, and then we are at peace. our tiny exercise in time is lost in the immensity of eternity. this is open to anyone at any time- fighting one's way on to a crowded commuter train, forcing tired eyes to grapple with turgid words, sleepless in an interminable night. and then, suddenly & incalculably, peace- the acceptance of earthly circumstance; all the turbulence, doubt, conflicting devices and desires, crystallizing in one single prayer, "Thy will be done." an alternative impulse- to sacrifice rather than grab, love rather than lust, give rather than take, pursue truth rather than promote lies, to humble oneself rather than inflate the ego.
-malcom muggeridge, confessions of a 20th-century pilgrim

"i do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me. but i have stilled and quieted my soul"

what we're really good at

i heard a sermon the other day that's sitting with me. about encouragement- & its capacity to fight sin & feed the soul: http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Hebrews%2010:24-25&version=NLT

we need it. we are our own best discouragers. or worst encouragers. we need affection in action, & it's not possible without drawing near to people & letting them draw near.


also. i need this word- facecrime- to be incorporated into the repertoire. STAT. thank you, george orwell!

"it was terribly dangerous to let your thoughts wander when you were in any public place or within range of a telescreen. the smallest thing could give you away. a nervous tic, an unconscious look of anxiety, a habit of muttering to yourself- anything that carried with it the suggestion of abnormality, of having something to hide. in any case, to wear an improper expression on your face (to look incredulous when a victory was announced, for example) was itself a punishable offence. there was even a word for it in Newspeak: facecrime, it was called."
-1984

shake off your guilty fears

"they only heard the report: 'the man who formerly persecuted us is now preaching the faith he once tried to destroy.' and they praised God because of me."

additional thoughts on being an airhead

i write this today as one installment in a (possible) series re: the ongoing fight to think in such a way that's true, honoring to Him, beneficial to others, not self-defeating, etc etc.

i'm scatterbrained. i once walked to the office breakroom with papers in hand & tried to start making copies in the sink. i've used laundry detergent, unwittingly, to wash my face. the aforementioned loss of glasses (4/20th post) is perhaps a little more devastating than sink as copy machine or detergent as facewash.

but the fact that i forget things i didn't write down, or leave things at your house that weren't attached to my person, or once in a while, skim the directions on the back & thereby misuse a product, doesn't mean i'm unintelligent. but that's what i've kind of started to believe. moments of forgetfulness become ugly introspection. has it happened to you? you do a stupid thing & the next thing you're thinking is i am a stupid person.

we need a paradigm shift. for those times when we take a flaw or recurring pattern of not-very-awesomeness & turn it into an irreparable character issue.

maybe it could help to tell someone, hey- this is how x trait is making me feel about myself, or this is the place i go to when y happens. will you think about this with me; & can we talk to Him about it together; & find truth that addresses this ungracious, anti-gospel type mindset?

i might not be stupid, per se. but i definitely have room to grow & learn! Father, i need Your strength & the support of people around me! thank You for your very present help!

now we see in part

"when at last we pass through the cloud of unknowing & the mystery is unravelled, all the preceding guesswork will seem, by comparison with what is then revealed, as no more than the scribble of children before they have learned their letters."
-malcolm muggeridge, confessions of a 20th-century pilgrim