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Sunday, March 31, 2013

He Is Risen Indeed

It was a beautiful Easter today. We had a tiny bit of rain, but for most of the day, the sun was warm. Before, the cross was draped with a black cloth, but today we decked it with flowers. We sang together, rejoiced together, feasted together, on what is the most glorious day of the year.

(Photo credit to FHG Photography)
I'm thankful today for little things that make life worth living.

The smell of wet grass after it rains.

Smiles.

A sticky toddler hand to hold.

Surprises.

White lilies in the front of Church.

Spring breeze.

In small things, I see hope. It's tastes of goodness, truth, and beauty. The world may seem a terribly bleak place sometimes, especially when you're reading the paper or watching the news. But just look at the world around you reawakening after wintertime. Look at the new life. Look at the flowers blooming on branches that were bare, and seemed dead, only days before. Look at that and tell me there's no hope. "Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise." And today, the Son arose. Hallelujah!

"Our Lord has written the promise of resurrection, not in books alone but in every leaf of springtime."
(-Martin Luther).





Friday, March 29, 2013

In Remembrance of Me

We're getting so close to our destination on this journey through Lent.

Last night, the Rabbi broke bread and shared wine with his followers, telling them that his body will be broken like that, his blood will be shed.

Do this in remembrance of Me.

Today the Messiah hangs from pieces of metal driven through his body; from a crooked tree between two thieves. The slow, awful sound of iron pounding through flesh, into wood. The mother weeps over her shattered dreams; she has seen her Child tortured, beaten, and hung. This pure God-Man drips with his own blood, the flies come, the people laugh.


But still these earthly agonies cannot compare to the absolute darkness when Yahweh turns His back. There had never been a moment as terrible and there never will be again. All creation groaned as the Creator turned away because He could not keep on looking at our filthy mess.

Eloi, eloi lama sabachthani? An utterly human cry of anguish from the lips of God, Himself.

And the disciples still do not understand.

The rich young Ruler strips Himself, dirties Himself, speaks with prostitutes, washes feet.

The first will be last, and the last will be first.

We are sons of the King, and we are slaves to each other.

For us to live, Someone must die.

And they still do not understand. They don't know, as S.M. Lockridge put it, that "Sunday's comin".

They return to their city --- a city with a dark soul. Betrayal, denial, deception, cruelty. That's all they will see. They understand now that this world is a bloody mess. But they don't understand that that's why He came.

Be ready for the world to suck everything out of you, and know that it will. We live in a smashed place surrounded by broken people. Here, kids decide life isn't worth living anymore and so they stop living. Here, people pull growing children out of their wombs to get rid of them. Here, boys shoot babies. Here, their mothers gasp for breath and it takes everything they have to go on. And some don't go on.



Try explaining that. Try explaining, to them, this hell they're living.

But this is the middle of the story. And for now, all of this is part of the cost. For now, "to love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken." (C.S. Lewis). Broken hearts are a price we pay for love. But love is worth that. And "Sunday's comin."

Now we cry, but not alone. Our Savior cries with us. For now we are mangled, but He was mangled too. He doesn't leave us to our sufferings. Instead, He came and lived our sufferings.

Now we see in a glass darkly, but then face-to-face.  Now we only know in part, but what we can know now is that He came because He loves us. He came to fix the shambles we've made of this world.

They laughed because they had killed the King of the Jews. They were convinced that if He really were God, then He could have come down off of that cross. And if He could have come down off of that cross, then He would have. But He didn't.

In order for death to work backwards, He had to commit His spirit into the hands of His Father.

It is finished. 






~allie


Thursday, March 28, 2013

Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Corner Rights For Tapioca

This is a very wise and well-put post (not that I ever expect any less of Wilson ;))  
Quite apt in the midst of this US Supreme Court case about same-sex marriage. 


"As the same sex marriage issue is now before the Supreme Court, just a few observations. It is important that we get this straight, because the next case before them concerns the right of circles to be square, and if a bad precedent is set on this same sex marriage case, the next case is going to play havoc with a lot of our engineering. A handful of circles have wanted to have four corners for a long time now, and in these enlightened times, who are we to continue to bruise their feeling by denying them four corners? The ruling elites will brook no compromise, and the offer of some states to give circles at least two civilly-recognized corners has been rejected flat out. And of course, we don't have time to go into the circles that want six or more corners.
Well, you know, one grants, in the abstract, that we are not really giving circles four corners, but are rather changing the definition of what it means to be circular. But no matter, we press on. It helps if you shut your eyes.

But once we have changed the definitions, good building and bridges will continue to stand, and bad ones will fall. Of course, we could always press the Court to change the definitions of stress, torque, and load. That might work. And we could outlaw heavy snow loads.
The challenge will actually be in the public safety hearings. Naturally, it will be hard for the inspectors to testify about this under oath, because what this legal imbroglio will have done is make it illegal to point out that circles don't have corners, whatever you say. The point has never been to get circles to have corners, which we can't do, but rather to brutally punish anyone who says they can't, which we most certainly can do.

Here is a link to an exchange between Ryan Anderson, one of the good guys, and Piers Morgan and Suze Orman. One friend of mine observes that Suze believes marriage to be rainbows, puppies and venture capitalism. I would add that Morgan's line of argument quivers like a tapicoa pudding in a high wind. One almost feels bad. One almost wishes that tapioca could have corners too."

-Doug Wilson

"The mind that is not baffled is not employed. 

The impeded stream is the one that sings.” 

- Wendell Berry

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Prone To Wander. . . .

Robert Robinson was born in Norfolk England in 1735. His parents were poor, barely making ends meet. And when Robert was eight years old, his father died.

When Robert was fourteen, and old enough to become an apprentice, his mother sent him to London. She wanted him to learn a trade --- to become a barber.

Instead of focusing on his work, and trying to learn a good trade, so that he would be able to support his mother, Robert instead joined a gang of corrupt young hoodlums. They traipsed about at all hours of the night, drinking and partying and doing whatever they could, to cause trouble. One day, while they were drunk, Robert and his gang saw that the Methodists were holding a prayer meeting. The boys decided to head on over. It would be great fun, they thought, to mock the stupid preacher and all those goody-goody Christians. They stumbled into the crowd and hurled jeering taunts into the air. But Robert couldn't help hearing the words of the minister --- George Whitefield was his name. The man preached about the righteous wrath of a holy God. He said that every one in the world deserved to go to Hell, no matter how "good" they were. And that they would go to Hell without the cleansing blood of the innocent One who offered to take the punishment on his own shoulders. Robert was terrified. Whitefield's words tormented his soul, long after he and his cronies had left the meeting. For three long years, Robert lived in mortal fear of a just God who declared, "Vengeance is mine. I will repay." All of his depravity, all the terrible things he had done, flashed before him again and again. And he knew there was no going back, no erasing his wickedness.

Then it was that he prayed for a Savior and take that heavy burden of guilt away; to wash away the sin with his blood. A great peace entered him; peace that he had never felt before in his life. Shortly after his conversion, Robert became a Calvinist minister. And he wrote the beautiful words of  'Come Thou Font of Every Blessing.' 

Tragically the third stanza of his hymn came true in his own life:
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, 
Prone to leave the God I love;
Robert fell away from his faith, and he returned to his sin and guilt and misery. His life was full of depravity once again. He had gone back to exactly the way things had been before. Only now, it was worse. He had tasted true contentment in Christ. . . and he had thrown it away. 

One afternoon, years later, while riding in a stagecoach, Robert heard a lady joyfully humming the tune of a hymn. 
"Do you know this hymn, sir?" she turned and asked Robert. "It has been such an immense blessing in my life. I don't know of another that has spoken so strongly to me, as this one." 
Robert slowly raised his eyes to meet hers. "Madam," he said. "I am the poor unhappy man who wrote that hymn many years ago, and I would give a thousand worlds, if I had them, to enjoy the feelings I had then." 

But Robert did not die dead in his sins. God used that chance encounter with a lady in a stagecoach to bring his wandering child back to fellowship in Him. Through her words, God reminded Robert of the living Gospel --- the Good News. The Shepherd drew His lost and stubborn lamb back into the fold, where he could be at rest beside "streams of mercy never ceasing." 






Come, Thou Fount of every blessing,
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
Sung by flaming tongues above.
Praise the mount! I’m fixed upon it,
Mount of Thy redeeming love.


PS - I was told (by anonymous sources ;)) that I should update my blog background.....so I did :P. I was getting rather tired of that same old picture. But not sure if i'm happy with this one, either, haha. So dont be surprised if my background changes again, quite soon. I'll just have been experimenting with it. Someday, hopefully, I'll really update it and make it much more professional-looking :). Someday.

Monday, March 25, 2013

Don't Ask the Fish

"Moreover, the more deeply a view is ingrained, the less likely we will see it as influencing us --- or see it at all. If you want to know what water is, don't ask the fish."

-Mitch Stokes, A Shot of Faith (To the  Head).



(Currently reading this book. And really enjoying it so far.)

Saturday, March 23, 2013

Friday, March 22, 2013

"I believe in getting into hot water. I think it keeps you clean."

G.K. Chesterton




We Are Like Windows.


The room was dark. With a darkness that was so dark, they could breathe it in. It smelled like it had been dark for longer than anyone could remember. It's hard to know what to do with blackness like that. If you stare into it for long enough, your eyes will adjust; you will begin to see shadows and shapes of the things around you. But no matter how long you wait --- even a lifetime --- you will never see the color.

She walked over to the window, bare feet stirring up the dust of age and gloom, and pulled open a curtain. Sunlight poured in, as if it was liquid; thick and golden. Bright sheets, reaching for the darkness, warming her toes, her face, her hair.

       "Come on," she said. "Help me let the light in."

He drew back the other dusty curtain and let his face bathe in the light. The entire house sparkled now. The beams searched out every corner with stretching fingers, and lit it up. Swirling bits of dust danced in the shafts of sunshine.

They soaked up the brilliance. They breathed in the light. And it was so good.

"We are like windows," Keith Green wrote. "Stained with colors of the rainbow, set in a darkened room till the Bridegroom comes to shine through."

One small window was enough to let the Light in. And that small brightness was enough to chase the shadows of a darkened place.


Be that window.

~allie








Thursday, March 21, 2013

Death Working Backward

(This is a revised/shorter version of an essay I wrote recently, for Omnibus class. We were reading Machiavelli's The Prince, and examining his corrupted views on power and authority. We were told to take a character and to analyze them according to Machiavellian principles. So, I chose the White Witch...Sorry it's rather long :P)



“You know that every traitor belongs to me as my lawful prey and that for every treachery I have a right to kill...And so, that human creature is mine. His life is forfeit to me. His blood is my property.” The queen, Jadis, otherwise known as the White Witch, must have looked terribly impressive as she said this. She was undefeated and fully confident. In the end, however, no matter how mighty and unconquerable a corrupt ruler may seem, he cannot triumph. In the grand finale of His Story, “we will see laughing children pulling cobras by their tails, and hawks and rabbits playing tag.” (N.D. Wilson, Notes from the Tilt-A-Whirl.) The light will always fill the darkness. “They shall not hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain; for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.” (Isaiah 11:9)...
Even though she could not end up victorious, the witch still accomplished quite a bit of evil while she was able: “My poor child,” (she said to Edmund.)  “How cold you look! Come and sit with me here on the sledge and I will put my mantle around you and we will talk.”’ Jadis knew exactly how and when to show mercy. Whenever it would convenience her more to be sweet, she would be sweet. But just as quickly, she would turn on you and, well, change you into stone, or something worse. She knew that to have the most power, she must only behave in the way that would most benefit herself. If that meant bestowing gifts and fine words upon her subjects - then that is exactly what she did. However, if that meant turning on her own people and treating them cruelly, then she went right ahead and did it, without any qualms. 

When the little girl, Lucy Pevensie, stepped into the wardrobe that led to Narnia, the first thing she saw was a snow-covered wood. She thought it was very beautiful, but she learned from the faun, Tumnus, that the natives of Narnia were quite tired of wintertime, even if it did mean snowball fights and icicles and roaring fires. That was because it had been winter for a hundred years. The queen, Jadis, had decreed that it should be always winter, but never Christmas, after she had killed the rightful King, and taken his throne. She created this new law because she felt that if the people saw, firsthand, the great, black magic that she controlled, then they would never dare to defy her. 


Jadis also realized that in order to rule with the most effect, she must devote everything to the good of her country. And so, the Witch did everything for her authority over her kingdom. It was for Narnia that she turned rebels into stone; for Narnia that she schemed to slay the heirs to the throne; and it was for Narnia that she killed Aslan. Everything else was secondary. The country came first, always. And she thought that must surely be enough. 


But, in the end, it was not enough. In order to truly succeed in her wickedness, the White Witch knew she must change fate.. And that was where she failed. She heard of the whispers and legends that spoke of a time when two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve would sit on the four thrones of Cair Paravel. And that when they sat in those thrones, it would be the end of the White Witch’s reign, and of her life as well. She knew the old prophecy by heart, because it terrified her:
“Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight, 

At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more,
When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death, 
And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again.” 
(The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, pg 79).
For a while, it all seemed to be working out exactly the way she wanted it to. When she stood above Aslan, the King, with her stone knife, she felt such giddy relief. She had changed Fate. “You know, Aslan,” she bent and spoke in his ear. “I’m a little disappointed in you. Did you honestly think by all this that you could save the human traitor? You are giving me your life and saving no one. So much for love. Tonight the Deep Magic will be appeased, but tomorrow, we will take Narnia forever! In that knowledge, despair...and die!” (pg 155). And then Aslan was dead. And that seemed to truly be the end of everything good. But it was not.  When the sun rose the next morning, the Stone Table - Aslan’s altar - was cracked and Aslan, himself, stood before the Pevensie girls, alive and glorious. “Though the Witch knew the Deep Magic,” Aslan said to the exulting girls. “There is a magic deeper still which she did not know...that when a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor’s stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backward.” (pg 163.) The Witch could not, no matter how hard she struggled, overcome Fate and the prophecies. Good was going to triumph over Evil, even if it took a while. And even if nobody believed it was possible anymore. The end of the Story had already been written and Jadis, despite her greatness as a ruler, could not destroy it. 


~allie




Wednesday, March 20, 2013

I Saw What I Saw

This is a beautiful song. Reminds me of what is truly important and how blessed we are.



Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Sunday, March 17, 2013

I Bind Unto Myself Today


Well, I suppose it’s become a sort of unspoken tradition for me to post about the origins of the holidays :)

So, today is Saint Patricks Day....I’m sure you know the story, but I don’t think it hurts to hear it over again: 

Patrick was born around 400 AD to wealthy parents. His life was relatively uneventful until he was kidnapped by Irish raiders when he was 16. They took him to Ireland where he spent six long and difficult years as a slave. He was a shepherd and he spent most of those years separated from all other people. The Irish were cruel to him. No one, even had they felt sorry for him, would have dared to show the foreign slave any kindness at all. But Patrick did not despair. Instead, he turned to the one source where he knew he would always find strength. His trials drew him closer and closer to God and he became a fiercely devoted Christian. "The love of God and his fear grew in me more and more,” he wrote later on. “As did the faith, and my soul was rosed, so that, in a single day, I have said as many as a hundred prayers and in the night, nearly the same." "I prayed in the woods and on the mountain, even before dawn. I felt no hurt from the snow or ice or rain."

One day, when the six years was nearly up, Patrick knew that God was telling him that it was time to escape from his Irish enslavers. He ran away, and then walked for over 200 miles until he reached the Irish coast, where he boarded a ship bound for his home, in Britain. On the way home, he had a vision -- sent from God -- of converting the Irish to Christianity. 

The next fifteen years, Patrick spent in rigorous religious training back in his homeland of Britain. All the while, he was planning and hoping and working towards going back to Ireland as a missionary to convert the Irish. At last, he was ordained as a priest, and he boldly returned to Ireland....to the land of his captors. He had two missions in his heart: to minister to the few Christians who already lived in Ireland, and also to try to convert the pagan Irish. 
Patrick spent the rest of his life in Ireland laboring at the work of fulfilling the Great Commission. 

Legend has it that Saint Patrick was having trouble explaining the Trinity to the Irish people. They could not grasp the concept of something being perfectly unified as one....and yet being three distinct parts at the same time. So one day, Patrick had an idea. He plucked one of the many three-leafed green shamrocks and held it up. “Is it one leaf or three?” he asked them. After contemplating it for a while, they replied, “It is both one and tree.” 
Patrick nodded, “Yes! And so it is with God.” 

He lived in poverty for the rest of his life, traveling about as an itinerant preacher. He suffered many hardships and overcame many trials. He feared no earthly afflictions --- even death. Through it all, he remained steadfast. Saint Patrick died on March 17 around AD 460. 

So you see, Saint Patrick's Day is not really all about leprechauns, or pinches for not wearing green clothing, or getting drunk. It's about a man who spent his life fulfilling God's purposes and living out the Great Commission with zeal. It's about him truly giving everything he had to follow his Savior's calling. And following Christ wherever that might lead him.



~allie


"I bind unto myself today
The strong name of the Trinity
By invocation of the same,
The Three in One and One in Three.

Christ be with me, Christ within me, 
Christ behind me, Christ before me, 
Christ beside me, Christ to win me, 
Christ to comfort and restore me. 

Christ beneath me, Christ above me, 
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger, 
Christ in hearts of all that love me, 
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger."
(-Saint Patrick). 








Friday, March 15, 2013

"An adventure is only an inconvenience rightly considered. An inconvenience is only an adventure wrongly considered."

-G.K. Chesterton







Thursday, March 14, 2013

As For Me and My House

"Choose this day whom you will serve...But as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord." 
Joshua 24:15



Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Simple Service



No matter how ordinary or unimportant any task may seem, so long as you’re doing it with all your might, to the glory of God, the best that you can --- it matters. 

A mayor’s, or a diplomat’s, or a soldier’s vocation is no more important or lasting than a plumber’s, if both are doing what they are called to do, vigorously. 

We each have our part and place in the order of things, and every spot is just as important as the rest, when we all embrace our parts with joy. God likes variety, as we can see in His beautifully diverse creation. No two of the millions and billions of snowflakes are just alike. And neither are any two people. As C.S. Lewis once said, “Heaven will display far more variety than Hell...” We are one body, but we each have our individual functions and somehow they all end up flowing together just beautifully. 

This idea about all of our distinctive tasks was taught by Martin Luther, and it’s called the doctrine of vocation. . . God could heal our illnesses by miracles as Jesus did in the Bible --- sight instantly returned to the blind, speech to the mute, and so on --- but instead He normally brings us our healing by the means of doctors and nurses. He could make each human being out of life-breathed dust, like He did with the first two humans. But, instead, He creates new humans by the means of husbands and wives, who are fulfilling their vocation of family. We ask Him to "give us this day our daily bread" and instead of causing the food to miraculously appear on our tables, He gives us dinner by the means of the many farmers, bakers, factory workers, and store clerks who each had parts in transforming the wheat into bread for us to buy. 

It's often through other ordinary people that God reveals Himself most clearly to us. We only see our family, or neighbors, or the man behind the counter at the grocery store, but behind their simple services, God is there. 

God doesn't need our kindness, our vocations, our simple good works, but our fellow men and women most definitely do. 


~allie




(** Don't forget to turn in your captions tomorrow before 3 pm (seeingfromthevalley.blogspot.com/2013/03/the-giveaway.html) The winner will be announced tomorrow night :D **)




Monday, March 11, 2013

Miracles

Do you believe in miracles?

I mean, really believe.

Not just as things God did for a people in another land, during another age.

Not like fairytales that we wish were true.

Well, unfortunately, even if you do believe in miracles, then you are among a very small minority. We look back at the stories in the Bible of a blind man seeing for the first time in his life, of a dead child waking up, of a crippled man dancing for joy; and maybe we believe that those things really did happen, but, at the same time, we sort of half-conciously know, in the backs of our minds, that miracles just don't happen nowadays.

But, there, we're wrong.

The great big, blue expanse that we call 'sky' turns pink, and orange, and purple at night when the sun disappears over the horizon and then again when it reappears in the east. We've seen it so many times, that we have forgotten how absolutely incredible it really is.

We live on an earth where we breathe out carbon dioxide and breathe in oxygen; where the plants make their own sugar-food out of our carbon dioxide and then release more oxygen into the air.

We are held down on the earth, and the earth is held in the solar system by a mysterious force we know as 'gravity'.  We take that for granted, but without it, we would be randomly hurtling through the universe, headed who-knows-where.

We have so many stars up in the sky that if Abraham had started counting them the night God gave His blessing, he would still be counting today, even if he counted as fast as he possibly could.


Did you know that it would take 96 years to read your individual DNA description? Even if we kept reading that description at the rate of one character per second without a single stop.

Did you know that your body is made up of 75 trillion separate cells...all of which originally came from two single cells?

Now, numbers like 'millions' and 'trillions' are very difficult to wrap our minds around, so here is something that might help you get an idea of just how big these numbers really are: 

1 million seconds ago was 12 days ago. 
1 billion seconds ago was 1975.
1 trillion seconds ago. . . . . 29,700 B.C.
1 quadrillion seconds ago would be 30, 800, 000 years ago. 

So now think about those 75 trillion cells that make your body. Crazy, isn't it?

Well, it gets even crazier. 


You know that Bible verse, "And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together." (Colossians 1:17)? Well, we are quite literally "held together" by something called laminin. Laminin is the scaffolding that binds tissues in our bodies. It is a "cell-adhesion" molecule, something rather like glue. . . .and it's in the shape of a cross. 
(An actual picture of a real laminin molecule)

But, do you know what's the craziest thing of all?

It's the fact that a Christ-hating, Christian-persecuting killer can become one of the greatest Christian apostles and martyrs of all history. 

A heartless, brutal slave-trader can turn around and write possibly the most beautiful song about Grace ever composed.

Dead men are raised everyday when a lost prodigal gives up the fight and the Father brings him home. 

So, miracles do happen. And they're just as marvelous as the ones during Jesus's life here on earth. 
Real, live miracles are all around us. It's just that we must ask God to open the eyes of our hearts before we can clearly see.

(***Don't forget to enter the caption contest before this Wednesday, March 13!***)

Happy Birthday, Thomas!

Here's to wishing my brother a wonderfully happy 15th birthday!!

Thank you, Thomas, for all the fantastic memories we've made together, and for being such a great brother and friend to me :)

I am so very thankful to God for giving me such kind, talented, awesome brother!

I love you so much! <3 <3
(My "little" bro...Can't really call him that anymore since he's almost a foot taller than me, haha :))

"This is the day which the Lord has made; Let us rejoice and be glad in it" Psalm 118:24

~allie

Thursday, March 7, 2013

The Comedy

Life is a comedy.


No I'm serious.

And, no, I haven't forgotten about tragic things like abortion, and men who shoot little children, and abusive parents.

It's just that our translation of the word 'comedy' is not what it originally meant. A comedy, in the true sense of the word, is a story in which good ultimately triumphs over evil. It means that even though there are tragic parts, in the end, the good guy kills the bad guy, he gets the girl, and he wins the day.



And that's The Story for you, in a nutshell. The Son dies for His bride (even though she has been unfaithful to Him). But then, since "a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor's stead....Death itself [began] working backward." (C.S. Lewis, 'The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe'.) And the thing is, we've gotten a spoiler. We already know how this Story will end up. The Author has assured us that His masterpiece will have a good ending; that the bad and twisted things will be made new. 

Don't you feel honored? I do. To be given a place in the spotlight on the stage of life. We each have our moment in the pages. How does my moment look? Does the audience wish my time was over? Or do they cry when my act is ended? Make your moment beautiful. Even if your story seems trivial, it's not. It is in the Book for a purpose. And everyday, you are closer to discovering what that purpose is. 

~allie

“Do not resent your place in the story. Do not imagine yourself elsewhere. Do not close your eyes and picture a world without thorns, without shadows, without hawks. Change this world. Use your body like a tool meant to be used up, discarded, and replaced. Better every life you touch. We will reach the final chapter. When we have eyes that can stare into the sun, eyes that only squint for the Shenikah, then we will see laughing children pulling cobras by their tails, and hawks and rabbits playing tag.” 
(-N.D. Wilson)





Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Andre Bocelli Tells a Little Story

I thought this was really interesting. Never knew this about Andre Bocelli.


 (Click "show more" under the description for a translation of the song he sings at the end.)




As a side note, Andre Bocelli was not born blind......he lost his sight after a football accident.

***AND don't forget to submit your captions for the contest before March 13!!!***

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Life's Poem

"Imagine a poem written with such enormous three-dimensional words that we had to invent a smaller word to reference each of the big ones; that we had to rewrite the whole thing in shorthand, smashing it into two dimensions, just to talk about it. . . Or don't imagine it. Look outside. Human language is our attempt at navigating God's language; it is us running between the lines of His epic, climbing on the vowels and building houses out of the consonants."

- N.D. Wilson