Category: Blogroll

Taking a break from my “reasons” series . . .

Ephesians 4:17, 18 (ESV) “Now this I say and testify in the Lord, that you no longer walk as the Gentiles [unsaved] do, in the futility of their minds. They are darkened in their understanding, alienated from the life of God because of the ignorance that is in them, due to the hardness of their hearts.”

I’m currently reading a book on the wonders of science called The Canon. The author, Natalie Angier, is a talented and engaging writer, and that, along with the fact that the subject matter is awe-inspiring, makes for a mostly enjoyable read. I say only mostly enjoyable because Ms. Angier, like most people in the sciences these days, does not hesitate to enthusiastically and frequently bash anyone who believes in creation as being unscientific and by inferences (if not outright labeling), unintelligent.

She, like most evolutionists, finds strength in numbers (as if that is a cogent argument for or against a position). One passage that particularly struck me was the following:

“David Baltimore recalled an MIT scientist . . . who was one of the last remaining critics of the theory of the origin of the universe that is now almost universally accepted by astronomers and indeed the entire scientific community. ‘He didn’t believe in the Big Bang,’ said Baltimore, ‘and he was in everybody’s face about it.'” (p. 34)

The first thing I thought was “Poor guy. He was actually right.” Now I don’t know who he was, or what he actually believed as far as creation vs. evolutionism, but he was right on when he denied what everyone else proclaimed. How frustrating it must have been to be one of the only ones in his field who thought the Big Bang was a hoax. I’d guess it was that dense frustration that drove him to get “in everyone’s face”. It would be kind of like everyone in the world believing that grass is bright pink. You know know know know it’s green, and you try to tell people, but they smirk and keep living blissfully and ignorantly in their neon –pink –grass land. You’d get a little hot under the collar too, eh?

This:                                                                         

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It’s the challenge of a blank page and a flickering cursor.

Back from a little hiatus – a wonderful trip to Duluth for a God-glorifying, saint-encouraging Bible conference on Zechariah, Christology and some various other topics. Take a look at the Duluth Bible Church link to the right – they have MP3s of all the messages. I’m spiritually recharged and physically beaten down, but that sure is better than the other way around!

Onward in our “series”:

The second reason I love writing is because I am such an awkward speaker. I know, I know – considering my field, you’d think I should be a great and fluent conversationalist. Hardly. I fumble over my words, I am too blunt, I can’t think of the right thing to say or the right question to ask. I envy friends who carry on conversations with ease (and can do so with total strangers). Pragmatics (how we use language socially) is the weakest linguistic link for me. I’m an awful debater – most of my responses in defense of a position are barely above the level of “I believe that . . . just . . . just . . . BECAUSE.”

With writing, I have time to frame what I want to say. Words that elude me when I’m on the spot find their way onto the screen as I type. When my thoughts are given a chance to percolate and form coherently, writing ends up being my best communication mode.

Oooh, a series – how long it’ll be, I don’t know . . . but on with the my reason number one:

I love writing chiefly because writing is language. I revel in language, I live and breathe language. I don’t just think on language when it’s absolutely necessary to do so. I teach language, I critique it, I find joy in it. Whether I’m telling my 4-year-olds that the letter M makes the “mmmm” sound (as in Mmmmiss Mmmmorrison) or reading the book of Isaiah, I find much happiness and wonder in sounds strung together in words strung together in sentences and paragraphs.

In case you hadn’t noticed, language is near the top of my list of favorite gifts God has given mankind (note: for obvious reasons, it’s not at the top). I’m sad for my colleagues who think that language evolved because an ape or two felt an urge to start grunting meaningfully. That’s got to be depressing. I’m glad I know that my loving Creator created language so we could communicate deeply, not only with one another but also with him.

The more I learn about language, the more thankful I am to the Lord. He is awesome.

“A writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people.” – Thomas Mann

Indeed. Being a writer sometimes seems to be more of a curse than a blessing.

I hate writing. I hate the frequent compulsion I have to write, especially when an idea strikes me at a time when I can’t write (e.g. I have a test to study for) or when I really don’t want to write (e.g. at 1 AM when my body is begging for sleep but my mind insists on thrashing restlessly with thoughts that beg to be put down on paper).

I hate writing. I hate the fact that my apartment can be a mess, but my writing must be pristine. I hate obsessing over every word, every comma. I wish I could be like non-writers who throw together a paper or blog entry in a functional, presentable way, but don’t care if it is beautiful as long as it gets their point across. I believe Mr. Mann would agree.

I hate writing. I hate when it don’t turn out like the way I wanted it to when I thought of it first. I hate when the melody of words I heard in my mind crashes into a cringe-worthy cacophony of broken notes on the screen. The second sentence in this paragraph is an hyperbolic demonstration of this sad occurence.

So, you may ask, why do you write? You’re pretty average, pretty run-of-the-mill as far as writers go. You’ll never make real money off it. You’ll never earn a Pulitzer.

I know. And here’s the answer:

As much as I hate writing, I write because I love to write (but the explanation of that is gonna hafta wait for another post).

I’m OK. I really am. The Phillies are about to go down 0-2 in a best of 5 series, and I’m not totally devastated. Disappointed? Yeah, I’m that.

But today I got to spend the morning with my little guys, teaching them syllables, laughing at their antics, scolding when they weren’t listening, and exulting when Josh finally said “ee-yellow” rather than “ee-wellow”. After that, I came home and there was food in my fridge, and my little apartment was a nice temperature, and my clothes are now all clean and smell nice and fresh from 70 minutes in the washer & dryer in my building’s basement. Hey, that’s a pretty fine day, wouldn’t ya say?

And even if it hadn’t been such a nice day, even if I overslept and missed the bus, even if I got puked on by one of my kiddos, even if Josh persisted in say “ee-wellow”, even if I had only bread and water to eat in a too-cold apartment and had to drag my laundry 8 blocks away to wash it (all that along with the Phils losing) . . .

You know what?

I’d be doing far better than I deserve. It’s only by God’s grace that I am privileged to live the wonderful life that I do, with a settled past, a joyful present, and an amazing beyond amazing future.

1 Timothy 1:17 (ESV) “To the King of ages, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen.”

Puts things into perspective, doesn’t it?

1 Peter 1:13 “Therefore, prepare your minds for action, keep sober in spirit, fix your hope completely on the grace to be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ.”

Hope here doesn’t mean “hope” as we tend to use it today, when one might say “Boy, I really hope the Phillies beat the Rockies in the NLDS” (which I do, by the way). Hope in the Bible speaks of a calm assurance, an absolute settled confidence in something that is true. And what better “something” to fix (focus unswervingly) our hope on than the undeserved favor, the grace, that is now ours as believers and will be ours upon Christ’s return.

‘Nuff said.

 1 Peter 3:18 “For Christ also suffered once for sins, the just for the unjust, that He might bring us to God, being put to death in the flesh but made alive by the Spirit.”

From my 2 April entry- baseball’s opening day:

“Besides the first day of spring, this is probably my favorite “lesser” holiday. On this day, the games count. On this day, I am always certain the Phillies will begin their march to their first World Series championship since they won it three weeks before I was born back in ‘80. On this day, “next year” is finally here.”

And amazingly enough, 159 games later, the dream still lives. The Phightins are phinally in phirst – tied with the Mets. And I’m pretty much as nervous as all get out.

It’s a 3-game season now. Go Phils!

A couple days ago, one of the lightbulbs in my “kitchen” blew out. (I put “kitchen” in quotes because, you know, I live in a studio apartment, ergo my “kitchen” is only distinguishable from my “living room”, “dining room”, and “bedroom” by a strip of linoleum.) There was enough light without that bulb, and in my laziness, I didn’t get around to changing it until the next morning.

Boy, what a difference! I hadn’t realized how dark it had been until the new bulb flooded the room with light. And, yeah, I saw the clear spiritual lesson.

Many people don’t realize the deep darkness they are in until the “light of glorious gospel” (2 Corinthians 4:4) floods their hearts. You will only truly see, spiritually speaking, when you have trusted in the Light of the World – Jesus Christ, the Son of God who died on the cross in our place and rose again.

Otherwise, you’ll be like me in my “kitchen” – in the dark, and not knowing how dark it really is.

The speaker at church on Sunday made the above statement. He then continued, and I paraphrase, “I don’t believe in the Tooth Fairy, but I don’t spend all my time forming Anti-Tooth Fairy Organizations and trying to prove she doesn’t exist.”

See, we all have a God consciousness. No one is born an atheist. They have to be taught that there is no God. And even in the most staunch atheist, there is a niggling fear that God exists. So they keep coming up with fallible “reasons” (or actually “sillinesses”, as there is no reason in them) to assuage their hearts and minds.

What does God say about these people?

Romans 1:18-23a ESV

“For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men, who by their unrighteousness suppress the truth. For what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it to them.  For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse. For although they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their foolish hearts were darkened.  Claiming to be wise, they became fools . . .”

Two points here: A). They suppress the truth – they know it is true, they know there’s a God, but they push the facts down. B.) They became fools.(i.e. They aren’t wise.) See also Psalm 14:1.

Conclusion: Atheists are utterly and completely foolish. (Feel free to quote the One True and Living God on that.)

I’m in the midst of putting the finishing touches on my resume (and an accompanying cover letter). It’s not a fun process. I can’t get over that faint uncomfortable sensation that I’m just bragging about myself. Blech. I’ve heard people say something along the lines of “If what you’re putting down is true, than you’re not bragging.”

Riiight. A couple of pages of “Lookit what I’ve done!” in 10.5 font can’t help but feel a little boastful to me. Guess it’s this world we live in, eh?

Onward.

Psalm 94:18-19 ESV

“When I thought, ‘My foot slips,’
your steadfast love, O Lord, held me up.
When the cares of my heart are many,
your consolations cheer my soul.”

I have many cares in my heart these days. Cares about school, cares about the afterlife (um, the after-school life, make that, because my afterlife is completely settled), cares about my friends, cares about my family, cares about the people I’m around from day to day.

How true it is that God’s consolations comfort my heart. He reminds that he’s God, and I’m not. He reminds that he’s sovereign and I’m not. He reminds me that he loves me more than anyone else in the universe does. He reminds me that that steadfast love of his will hold me up when my feet slip.

And that is a great great comfort.

I read the following on an atheist’s website some time ago. It’s interesting and saddening to see this perspective:

“I always thought that if Christians really believe that I am going to burn eternally because I don’t believe what they do, they should try a little harder to covert me. Could it be that most of them don’t truly believe all this nonsense?”

What can you say to that? We ambassadors aren’t always the best ambassadors.

My little’uns are just that. I ask you, is there anything more wonderful than having a four year old boy look up at you with bright shining eyes and absolutely butcher your name?

“Mih Marrnin [translated: Miss Morrison], please help me,” he said, and my heart melted a little. In fact, I’m surprised I have any intact heart left, what with all these delightful and diverse small people I have the privilege of working with these days. They do tend to get to you.

Onward.

Comfort from Hosea. Hosea? Yes, Hosea. Even as he proclaims judgment on their rebellion, God also proclaims his tender love towards his forever-chosen people, Israel.

Hosea 11:8-9

How can I give you up, O Ephraim?
How can I hand you over, O Israel?
How can I make you like Admah?
How can I treat you like Zeboiim?
My heart recoils within me;
my compassion grows warm and tender.
I will not execute my burning anger;
I will not again destroy Ephraim;
for I am God and not a man,
the Holy One in your midst,
and I will not come in wrath. 

Emily G. (driving): Can you open the Lifesavers for me?

Me (opening the Lifesavers’ wrapper): Do you ever drive with your knees?

Emily G.: Only if it’s an emergency.

Me: What qualifies as an emergency?

Emily G: Well, if I’m eating a sandwich.

So there you have it, ladies and gents. According to Emily G., Emergency = Eating a Sandwich.

I have emergencies rather frequently.

Onward.

Despite record low outdoor temperatures (and the not significantly warmer  sleeping areas), the retreat in Minnesota this weekend was wonderful.

Some of the most encouraging verses from an amazing time in the Word were these:

1 Corinthians 1:26-31

“For consider your calling, brothers: not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God. And because of him you are in Christ Jesus, who became to us wisdom from God, righteousness and sanctification and redemption, so that, as it is written, ‘Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord.'”

Isn’t that just great? The Lord gave this foolish, weak, lowly girl the opportunity to simply be a witness of his grace yesterday at my practicum. It was humbling and joyful all at the same time – to be given the opportunity to speak forth the amazing truth of the Gospel – God’s greatest gift of salvation – is a gift in and of itself.

My teeth.

This is the weather forecast for where I’ll be tomorrow night. At a retreat in northern MN. In unheated cabins.:

“Partly cloudy in the evening then clearing. Widespread frost after midnight. Lows 22 to 27. West winds 10 to 15 mph becoming southwest around 5 mph late. ”

Summer? What’s summer?

Onward.

Another description by God of himself:

Isaiah 45:22-25

“Turn to me and be saved,
all the ends of the earth!
For I am God, and there is no other.
By myself I have sworn;
from my mouth has gone out in righteousness
a word that shall not return:
‘To me every knee shall bow,
every tongue shall swear allegiance.’ 

“Only in the Lord, it shall be said of me,
are righteousness and strength;
to him shall come and be ashamed
all who were incensed against him.                                                                                                                                                       

In the Lord all the offspring of Israel
shall be justified and shall glory.”

Amen.

For me, an average American living hundreds of miles away from New York and D.C., today doesn’t feel as sad as the 6 previous 9/11s have.

For the first time since 2001, this day hasn’t felt burdensome. It hasn’t felt so close to the horror and disbelief and the helpless “where will they hit next” feeling of that Tuesday 6 years ago.

That’s not to say that I’ve forgotten, or didn’t feel an achy twinge when I remembered what day it was as I turned on the radio this morning. It’s also not to say that many others are not still experiencing tremendous grief. When the terrorists struck, they killed nearly 3000 people, but they wounded millions more. They wounded those close to the tragedy extremely deeply, but the shrapnel of those murders also pierced the hearts of Americans and freedom-lovers around the world.

Today I realized that my scars were healing. Though they’ll always be there and the tragic images will be seared into my brain until the day I die, today feels normal.

It’s September 11. Just another ordinary day.

Onward.

How grateful I am that this is my God.

Isaiah 46:9-11 (ESV)

“Remember this and stand firm,
recall it to mind, you transgressors,
remember the former things of old;
for I am God, and there is no other;
I am God, and there is none like me,
declaring the end from the beginning
and from ancient times things not yet done,
saying, ‘My counsel shall stand,
and I will accomplish all my purpose,’
calling a bird of prey from the east,
the man of my counsel from a far country.
I have spoken, and I will bring it to pass;
I have purposed, and I will do it.”

It came in a brown lunch bag with “To: Ms. Morrison (written neatly) From: Jake (scrawled in little boy’s handwriting)” on it. Is this it? Am I official?

I guess the big red apple I got on the first day of my school practicum proves it.

See, these kids don’t know that I’m just a student, too. They don’t know that I’m a novice, that I don’t really know what I’m doing, that I’m actually little intimidated by the whole thing.

Yeah, to little Jake and his nearly 30 classmates in our combined K-4/Speech-Language classroom, I’m just Miss Morrison.

One of their teachers.

Onward.

James 1: 2-4  “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.”

Count it all joy when you can’t find your keys and you’re late for the bus. Count it all joy when your paycheck isn’t cut because someone in payroll misfiled your timecard. Count it all joy when you feel out of place. Count it all joy when you are unbearably homesick. Count it all joy when you stub your toe. Count it all joy when you’re reviled for sharing the gospel. Count it all joy when your computer crashes. Count it all joy when you miss someone. Count it all joy when you’ve studied diligently and you still get a C (or D) on the test. Count it all joy when you’re stuck in traffic. Count it all joy when your friends just don’t “get it”. Count it all joy when you show up but your luggage doesn’t. Count it all joy when your teacher is spouting off humanistic nonsense. Count it all joy when your expectations aren’t met, when your hopes are dashed, your dreams are unfulfilled.

Count it all joy because you know the end of the story.

Rugby is the sport of choice for the men in my family, so what do you do when you move back to the States, and everyone is talking football and playing football?

You have to learn to make do.

My brother Daniel did just that – he’s started playing linebacker on his middle school football team, and when an opportunity arose during their game on Saturday, he seized it. According to my mom, who called me excitedly from the game, there’d just been a fumble. Daniel scooped up the pigskin and ran it in 60 yards for the score, with my family screaming encouragement as he sprinted down the sideline.

Way to go, buddy – not bad for the kid from Africa.

Onward.

Psalm 103:1-5

Bless the Lord, O my soul,
and all that is within me,
bless his holy name!
Bless the Lord, O my soul,
and forget not all his benefits,
who forgives all your iniquity,
who heals all your diseases,
who redeems your life from the pit,
who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,
who satisfies you with good
so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.

I think my favorite part of this passage is “redeems your life from the pit”. May I never forget how huge a pit I’ve been saved from, and all the little pits he saves me from day by day. Indeed, bless the Lord, O my soul.