I've been in a slump, days have been long, these last 8 days have felt like a month of grief.
The cause? A sprained heart, a case of guilt, and a lack of discipline in spending time with God.
The solution? For the last couple days, the only answer I've thought of is more discipline; I need to spend more time with God. I need to read the Bible, set aside time to pray and journal.
Though these are great things and disciplines that help transform me, hearing the words of a friend in a song, "You're free, you're free, it costs so much but blind men receive their sight - the night shines brighter, above our scorched horizons, and Christ, Christ, firstborn of many brothers, run-run and tell the others that it's never been any other way," has again delivered me! What is it that I MUST do to remain in God's grace, to be washed clean, to have his favor and be his precious son? Haha, open my hands and accept it! Believe it!
As I wrote this, I left my little room to catch what was left of the sunset. Glancing up at the last streaky-purple cloud I blew my nose and cleared my throat of all that remained, and breathed again the heavens' fruit through open airways. The Tree of Grace that refuses not one its manufactured miracles.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Friday, July 15, 2011
Lord of the Rings thoughts
These are a few Lord of the Rings reflections. This will probably only interest a couple of you, if that, and was written with Chris Whitler in mind mostly, and will probably only interest him. It was also to jot my thoughts down after just finishing The Lord of the Rings again (2nd time - the first was in 8th grade). If you have not read the trilogy, DO NOT READ THIS.
There is the constant feeling that along with the Hobbits, you're merely tapping into deep, deep history - an old, old world that has seen, heard, and felt many things over countless years. You especially feel the weight of it, for example, when Gandalf (whose time on Middle-Earth was just the Third Age) introduces Theoden (the kind, old King of Rohan) to Treebeard, the aged Talking Tree: "You are about to meet the oldest living thing that still walks." (Two Towers, p. 72). Elrond is another link to the ancient past; the son of Earendil, the elf who sails over the earth in his ship with a silmaril on his brow... his father, by the power of the Valar in the West, became a star!! His brother Elros founded Numenor, the great kingdom of men, and Elrond lived in a time after Morgoth was overthrown but before Sauron forged the One Ring. The list goes on: Galadriel, who crossed over the sea from Valinor with her kinsmen the Noldor in the First Age; and Tom Bombadil, a walking fairy tale whose essence can be anything from an ancient elf, perhaps of the first created in Middle-Earth, by name one of the Moriquendi who never crossed into Valinor, to maybe a lesser Power - a Maia bound to the Earth, who isolated himself but held on to his powers, and whose tale, no doubt long, so long, could only be wildly guessed.
A very stirring element of Middle-Earth, that runs deeper than just the symbolism of white vs. black: the absolute significance of light, as opposed to dark: Shown very clearly in The Silmarillion, light is a key aspect of Good in Tolkien's writings. Like mosquitoes in a bog, evil thrives off of dark, where its works go felt but unseen. And so Evil cowers from light out of fear that its acts are indeed seen, for the light reveals the world, inherently good and alive, opening up around them, surrounded by endless eyes. But Good basks in light, is not hurt by it but is encouraged, is enlivened by it and loves it. Light is a weapon: Gandalf uses light from his staff to reject the Nazgul in front of the walls of Minas Tirith, to put fear into the hearts of the siege-company of Helm's Deep, and Frodo and Sam discover the life-saving attributes of the Light of Galadriel, a treasure whose ancient source is the aforementioned Star of Earendil, that battled against Shelob the spider, descendant of Ungoliant, partner of Morgoth in the molesting of the Trees of Valinor - the lights of the world whose glories would only be later hinted at by the creation of the Sun and Moon.
Theoden again provides us a great example as he leads the Rohirrim to the help of Gondor: "Fey he seemed, or the battle-fury of his fathers ran like new fire in his veins, and he was borne up on Snowmane like a god of old, even as Orome the Great in the battle of the Valar when the world was young. His golden shield was uncovered, and lo! it shone like an image of the Sun, and the grass flamed into green about the white feet of his steed. For morning came, morning and a wind from the sea; and the darkness was removed, and the hosts of Mordor wailed, and terror took them, and they fled, and died, and the hoofs of wrath rode over them. And then all the host of Rohan burst into song, and they sang as they slew, for the joy of battle was on them, and the sound of their singing that was fair and terrible came even to the City." (RK, 138).
The third thing that stood out to me was the love for leaders which birthed obedience, courage, and self-sacrifice. The band of Dunedain, Legolas and Gimli, and Eomer all said they loved Aragorn, their King.
Sam loved Frodo, and this is why:
"Where are you going, Master?" cried Sam, though at last he understood what was happening.
"To the Havens, Sam," said Frodo.
"And I can't come,"
"No, Sam. Not yet anyway, not further than the Havens. Though you too were a Ring-hearer, if only for a little while. Your time may come. Do not be too sad, Sam. You cannot be always torn in two. You will have to be one and whole, for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be, and to do."
"But," said Sam, and tears started in his eyes, "I thought you were going to enjoy the Shire, too, for years and years, after all you have done."
"So I thought too, once. But I have been too deeply hurt, Sam. I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me. It must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger: some one has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them...
"You will be the Mayor, of course, as long as you want to be, and the most famous gardener in history; and you will read things out of the Red Book, and keep alive the memory of the age that is gone, so that people will remember the Great Danger and so love their beloved land all the more. And that will keep you as busy and as happy as anyone can be, as long as your part of the Story goes on."
If you've made it this far, you're a trooper. Thanks for reading.
There is the constant feeling that along with the Hobbits, you're merely tapping into deep, deep history - an old, old world that has seen, heard, and felt many things over countless years. You especially feel the weight of it, for example, when Gandalf (whose time on Middle-Earth was just the Third Age) introduces Theoden (the kind, old King of Rohan) to Treebeard, the aged Talking Tree: "You are about to meet the oldest living thing that still walks." (Two Towers, p. 72). Elrond is another link to the ancient past; the son of Earendil, the elf who sails over the earth in his ship with a silmaril on his brow... his father, by the power of the Valar in the West, became a star!! His brother Elros founded Numenor, the great kingdom of men, and Elrond lived in a time after Morgoth was overthrown but before Sauron forged the One Ring. The list goes on: Galadriel, who crossed over the sea from Valinor with her kinsmen the Noldor in the First Age; and Tom Bombadil, a walking fairy tale whose essence can be anything from an ancient elf, perhaps of the first created in Middle-Earth, by name one of the Moriquendi who never crossed into Valinor, to maybe a lesser Power - a Maia bound to the Earth, who isolated himself but held on to his powers, and whose tale, no doubt long, so long, could only be wildly guessed.
A very stirring element of Middle-Earth, that runs deeper than just the symbolism of white vs. black: the absolute significance of light, as opposed to dark: Shown very clearly in The Silmarillion, light is a key aspect of Good in Tolkien's writings. Like mosquitoes in a bog, evil thrives off of dark, where its works go felt but unseen. And so Evil cowers from light out of fear that its acts are indeed seen, for the light reveals the world, inherently good and alive, opening up around them, surrounded by endless eyes. But Good basks in light, is not hurt by it but is encouraged, is enlivened by it and loves it. Light is a weapon: Gandalf uses light from his staff to reject the Nazgul in front of the walls of Minas Tirith, to put fear into the hearts of the siege-company of Helm's Deep, and Frodo and Sam discover the life-saving attributes of the Light of Galadriel, a treasure whose ancient source is the aforementioned Star of Earendil, that battled against Shelob the spider, descendant of Ungoliant, partner of Morgoth in the molesting of the Trees of Valinor - the lights of the world whose glories would only be later hinted at by the creation of the Sun and Moon.
Theoden again provides us a great example as he leads the Rohirrim to the help of Gondor: "Fey he seemed, or the battle-fury of his fathers ran like new fire in his veins, and he was borne up on Snowmane like a god of old, even as Orome the Great in the battle of the Valar when the world was young. His golden shield was uncovered, and lo! it shone like an image of the Sun, and the grass flamed into green about the white feet of his steed. For morning came, morning and a wind from the sea; and the darkness was removed, and the hosts of Mordor wailed, and terror took them, and they fled, and died, and the hoofs of wrath rode over them. And then all the host of Rohan burst into song, and they sang as they slew, for the joy of battle was on them, and the sound of their singing that was fair and terrible came even to the City." (RK, 138).
The third thing that stood out to me was the love for leaders which birthed obedience, courage, and self-sacrifice. The band of Dunedain, Legolas and Gimli, and Eomer all said they loved Aragorn, their King.
Sam loved Frodo, and this is why:
"Where are you going, Master?" cried Sam, though at last he understood what was happening.
"To the Havens, Sam," said Frodo.
"And I can't come,"
"No, Sam. Not yet anyway, not further than the Havens. Though you too were a Ring-hearer, if only for a little while. Your time may come. Do not be too sad, Sam. You cannot be always torn in two. You will have to be one and whole, for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be, and to do."
"But," said Sam, and tears started in his eyes, "I thought you were going to enjoy the Shire, too, for years and years, after all you have done."
"So I thought too, once. But I have been too deeply hurt, Sam. I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me. It must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger: some one has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them...
"You will be the Mayor, of course, as long as you want to be, and the most famous gardener in history; and you will read things out of the Red Book, and keep alive the memory of the age that is gone, so that people will remember the Great Danger and so love their beloved land all the more. And that will keep you as busy and as happy as anyone can be, as long as your part of the Story goes on."
If you've made it this far, you're a trooper. Thanks for reading.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Who else?
From who else do I come to tears just knowing they're listening?
From who else do I melt away, knowing I'm their friend?
From who else do I rejoice just hearing from them?
Who listens to me
Who befriends me
Who speaks to me like you?
None, I say.
No one like you, not a single one.
None.
It is you who destroys me with a wink
It is you who thrashes me with whispers
It is you who flattens me with one melodic note.
You're a drop of golden honey - I'm a bland cup of tea
You're a waterfall of buttery syrup - I'm a stale waffle
You're a pinch of salt - I'm a listless pork chop.
The saying is old but it's true
It's been tested through and through
Complete me, you do
Who else but Jesus?
From who else do I melt away, knowing I'm their friend?
From who else do I rejoice just hearing from them?
Who listens to me
Who befriends me
Who speaks to me like you?
None, I say.
No one like you, not a single one.
None.
It is you who destroys me with a wink
It is you who thrashes me with whispers
It is you who flattens me with one melodic note.
You're a drop of golden honey - I'm a bland cup of tea
You're a waterfall of buttery syrup - I'm a stale waffle
You're a pinch of salt - I'm a listless pork chop.
The saying is old but it's true
It's been tested through and through
Complete me, you do
Who else but Jesus?
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Blameless
Friendless I lay at the bottom of the sea
Shipwrecked I drowned, two days now three
No more to think, no more to see
Any sign of life or the color green
Down here it's gray and everthing's dull
Nothing escapes the water's strong pull
Now thanks to me this pit is full
Trapped forever in my ship's hull
Now and again a ray of light
Pierces the darkness from some great height
And for a moment, filled with delight
Until Alas! again it's night
But then at last one day I saw
The sun that rises with the dawn
And looking up I stared in awe
A man descended, life withdrawn
With me to dwell was why he came
There in his eyes I saw my shame
But there too lived a wild flame
Burning up every trace of blame
Up, up we go above the sea
That vast blue prison fades from me
Into that true Land of the Free
Together forever, we will be
Best friends for all eternity
Shipwrecked I drowned, two days now three
No more to think, no more to see
Any sign of life or the color green
Down here it's gray and everthing's dull
Nothing escapes the water's strong pull
Now thanks to me this pit is full
Trapped forever in my ship's hull
Now and again a ray of light
Pierces the darkness from some great height
And for a moment, filled with delight
Until Alas! again it's night
But then at last one day I saw
The sun that rises with the dawn
And looking up I stared in awe
A man descended, life withdrawn
With me to dwell was why he came
There in his eyes I saw my shame
But there too lived a wild flame
Burning up every trace of blame
Up, up we go above the sea
That vast blue prison fades from me
Into that true Land of the Free
Together forever, we will be
Best friends for all eternity
Friday, May 13, 2011
May News(letter)
Here's my life right now; take a quick look.
Any questions? E-mail me at jamesthellama@hotmail.com
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Not Showering for a Day - A Diary
Not Showering for a Day
A Diary
8:00 The first thing I realized was that my hair looked much like it did the night before and I needed very little gel to give it its structure back.
10:00 Everything smells a bit worse.
11:30 If I rub my forehead, little Play-Doh rolls of dirt and sticky grime collect – probably the excess gel and dirt from the day before.
11:35 It’s like I can feel every pore on my face…
3:10 Steph moves to other side of office.
3:42 My nose feels different. It’s like it’s heavier… with dirt.
5:00 So tired… I think the B.O. is attacking my immune system
6:30 Worried about watching a movie with others because of my foot odor… should have changed out from my Crocs
11:30 As I lay in bed to sleep, my elbows are sticky when I bend them and, utterly ashamed and defeated, I can't wait until the morning when I can shower.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Warm and Cool
There are two winds blowing. They cannot have conflict with each other, yet seem impossible to coexist.
The warm wind is that Christians can and should always freely accept the free gift of grace. It's Christmas and we must open the blinds and the window and smell the sweet sense of freshness, then tear off the gift-wrapping with great tenacity, with a wide grin, and always in the lit room.
The cool wind is that Christians should not sin; we have been given new robes of righteousness to replace the dead, sinful flesh that we, if we were willing, surely shed. Though we drag around the dead flesh, hoping to give it a little life back and pounce on instant pleasure opportunities, it is not our identity. We fight it, and we should. Sin is a removed tattoo, though we drool over the old pictures at times, sometimes acting just like we did when we had that nasty tat.
How on earth do these winds work together? How can I be passionately opposed to sin and still accept the grace given me?
The answer is not moderation.
There is no compromise.
The answer is that God is God of the impossible. So, warm meets cool and they harmonize. First comes one, then the other. You jump headstrong into the cool, knowing God is there, and knowing the warm embrace is always there for the taking.
The warm wind is that Christians can and should always freely accept the free gift of grace. It's Christmas and we must open the blinds and the window and smell the sweet sense of freshness, then tear off the gift-wrapping with great tenacity, with a wide grin, and always in the lit room.
The cool wind is that Christians should not sin; we have been given new robes of righteousness to replace the dead, sinful flesh that we, if we were willing, surely shed. Though we drag around the dead flesh, hoping to give it a little life back and pounce on instant pleasure opportunities, it is not our identity. We fight it, and we should. Sin is a removed tattoo, though we drool over the old pictures at times, sometimes acting just like we did when we had that nasty tat.
How on earth do these winds work together? How can I be passionately opposed to sin and still accept the grace given me?
The answer is not moderation.
There is no compromise.
The answer is that God is God of the impossible. So, warm meets cool and they harmonize. First comes one, then the other. You jump headstrong into the cool, knowing God is there, and knowing the warm embrace is always there for the taking.
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