He who hurries his footsteps errs, indeed. Spurty much? This reminds me a me. It is such a joy to exercise my spurty strength, but it is often a mess afterwards. I should not act like this, as funny as it is.
Date: January 18, 2017 at 3:12:43 PM EST
colleague: FYI no issue with Gus Mady, he just wasn’t tilting his cab panel back enough to get the hinges on. =) he called a apologized a hundred times. He’s super nice.
me: Good. I’m glad you asked again.
colleague: me too. and thanks for you help too
me: You’re welcome. Glad he and I spoke. I probably wouldn’t have the chance to meet him at NTEA if I didn’t field his call.
colleague: divine appointment!
me: That makes me think: I’d like to treat all encounters as divine appointments—to treasure each human interaction as an opportunity to communicate with someone of unsurpassable worth, a bearer of the image of God
colleague: PREACH!
I decided the above exchange was worth spending some work time on. I haven’t known what to say when people assert that a lucky encounter is a divine one. But now I do.
It isn’t necessarily that we’ve said yes to too many things, although sometimes that’s true. It’s that no matter how I slice it, there are always things I’m not doing, rest I’m not taking, and people I’m not relating to.
Partially reformed perfectionist’s hack: Remind yourself it’s imperfect to be a perfectionist.
“Questioning involves courage, refusal to allow one’s beliefs to be challenged involves fear. And so which should be called ‘faith’ and which should be called ‘doubt’?
– James F. McGrath, “Doubt in Faith’s Clothing”
“[T]o say that God turns away from the wicked is like saying that the sun hides itself from the blind.”
– St. Anthony the Great, as quoted by Stephen Freeman in making the point that the talk in the Bible about God’s wrath is metaphorically referring to the natural consequences of separate from Him, not Him actually whooping us
You say you care about the poor?
Then tell me, what are their names?
— Gustavo Gutierrez, as tweeted by Jarrod McKenna
Do not marry unless you can without any doubt decide to commit the rest of your life to that person.
We are lonely and feel busy because we resent not being sufficient as islands and because doing something means we’re not doing a million other things.
You know, I just queued a recurring task for Sunday evenings: “Set this week’s read-and-reflect time.” But methinks it a better approach to remind myself that the apt time is almost always now for stopping at whim for people, God, rest, or recreation. Do what you want.
Next someone asks “How’ve you been?” and you’re about to reply “busy,” try saying “overcommitted” instead. It might serve as a humbling, epiphanic, change-enabling confession.
It’s a really good idea to swear off screens for Sundays, at least through bedtime.
Twitter is a way to surround yourself with the most interesting people in the world—to the detriment of your engagement with the people around you.
Stick to the plan, that’s all. Just stick to the plan.
“People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
— Maya Angelou
“Trust is important, but trustworthiness is even more so. Trust is only as good as is the trustworthiness of that in which we place our trust.” Thank you, Miroslav Volf, for saying what I said two years ago about why faith is a virtue.
When the apostles returned, they gave an account to Him of all that they had done. Taking them with Him, He withdrew by Himself to a city called Bethsaida. But the crowds were aware of this and followed Him; and welcoming them, He began speaking to them about the kingdom of God and curing those who had need of healing (Luke 9:10-11).
Sometimes—probably often—Jesus gave preference to the needs, desires, and priorities of others over His own.
Today, I I called myself a “whimsical dabbler” as a way of celebrating and embracing my quick decision to stand on our stoop and cheer the Nittany Valley Half-Marathoners on as they passed by about midday today. (We’re at about mile eleven of their route.) It thereby also a way to encourage myself to make more decisions of what to do out of loving whim, and to accept my identity as a dilettante, and not just in the arts. Indecision about hunting this past week had me down this morning after an unsuccessful hunt yesterday.
I did decide I would become a suburban bowhunter after finding out how much red meat meant to Carla.
Follow the impulses of your heart and the desires of your eyes, yet know that God will bring you to judgment for all these things. Let all that you do be done in love, that is, in self-donation for the benefit of others, whom you view as more important than yourself and unsurpassably wonderful.
“If the grass feels greener on the other side, it might be the Holy Spirit reminding you to water the grass you’re standing on.”
Do I need to be thinking less about the Bible and more about the world around me? Solving not the problems presented by the Text but those I find in the world? It’s a false dichotomy, yes, but perhaps not so much considering that I only have so much time.
Smattering of recollections from venison roast dinner this evening with Sauders at their house: I got to share my Alan Jacobs story. They were delighted at God’s activity. They remarked that we’re funny—like, make-you-laugh funny—something they don’t have enough of among their friends at University Mennonite Church. I surmised that social justice warriors have a hard time smiling. Ruth insisted that people ought to grow more idiosyncratic as they age, as long it’s not grumpily idiosyncratic. As such, in reply to Carla’s question about whether the Sauders think I’m weird, her answer was a very positive affirmative. I picked up Ta-Nehisi Coates’ letter to his son as my next book. The kids made Ed the Rabbit some things to chew on. It was a delightful evening.
Here are my notes on Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates:
On reading at Whim:
“The pursuit of knowing was freedom to me, the right to declare your own curiosities and follow them through all manner of books. I was made for the library, not the classroom. The classroom was a jail of other people’s interests. The library was open, unending, free” (p. 48). Reading these sentences was electrifying to me coming off of Alan Jacobs’ The Pleasure of Reading. It also captures some of why I don’t read the news: I don’t wish to be subject to what people I don’t know, who are paid to write, say is important.
A double standard:
“…they understate the task and allow the citizens of this country to pretend that there is real distance between their own attitudes and those of the ones appointed to protect them…” and so on through the paragraph (78–79). Earlier in the book, he calls Samori to respect the story of each individual, to not let the experience of single souls get wiped away by the necessarily generalizing statements of history. But here, he pins the blame for the “sprawling carceral state, the random detention of black people, the torture of suspects” on me. It’s wrong to conflate an individual’s helpless inaction with his will.
On the burden of “television”:
It occurred to me reading page 82 that we think that because we can see something, we can do something about it. But in these days of telegraph, tele-audio, and television, we still haven’t invented teleportation or omnipresence. We are closer to omniscience than ever before, with omnipresent eyes, and perhaps omnibenevolence, but we have neither true omnipresence nor omnipotence.
On godless holiness of the human body:
“And hell upon those who shatter the holy vessel” (87). What makes vessels holy if not the imago dei?
On personal moral fatalism:
“But you are human and you will make mistakes. You will misjudge. You will yell. You will drink too much. You will hang out with people you shouldn’t. Not all of us can be Jackie Robinson…” (95). I do not understand moral fatalism. I agree that sin is inevitable. But I disagree with anyone who says so. How anti-inspirational can you get?
On grand change:
“’It only takes one person to make a change,’ you are often told. This is also a myth. Perhaps one person can make change, but not the kind of change that would raise your body to equality with your countrymen” (96). RIGHT!
On the good old days and wicked men:
“…I raise it to show you that there was no golden era when evildoers did their business and loudly proclaimed it as such” (98).
On the myth of race:
“’Race’ itself is just a restatement and retrenchment of the problem” (115).
Finally, at the end of the book, Coates takes an unexpected environmentalist turn that inspires me.
The politics of Jesus: serve widows & orphans. Welcome foreigners. Prefer outsiders over insiders. Be kind to sinners and tough on saints.
If “faith in Christ” should sometimes be re-rendered “the faithfulness of Christ” (e.g., Romans 3:22), should “believe in Him” be rendered “be faithful to Him”? That’s no minor soteriological point.
Lord, I find your commands in the Sermon on the Mount to be empowering.