When did hardship and decay become reason to blame God rather than to turn to Him?
“Who is there among you who is wise and intelligent? Then let him by his noble living show forth his [good] works with the [unobtrusive] humility [which is the proper attribute] of true wisdom…But the wisdom from above is first of all pure (undefiled); then it is peace-loving, courteous (considerate, gentle). [It is willing to] yield to reason, full of compassion and good fruits; it is wholehearted and straightforward, impartial and unfeigned (free from doubts, wavering, and insincerity). And the harvest of righteousness (of conformity to God’s will in thought and deed) is [the fruit of the seed] sown in peace by those who work for and make peace [in themselves and in others, that peace which means concord, agreement, and harmony between individuals, with undisturbedness, in a peaceful mind free from fears and agitating passions and moral conflicts]” (James 3:13,17-18, AMP).
Thank You, God, for reinforcing the lesson: If you think you’re wise, you’d better be able to prove it with deeds.
It’s exult in our tribulations, not despite them (Romans 5:3). There’s a big difference. And it can, I think, make or break your faith.
Current interpretation of the bits in James 1 and Romans 5 about persevering through trials: Perseverance through trials, even those that come in the form of intellectual challenges to the faith, breeds perseverance.
Doubt has humbled me and made more sympathetic. I could also swear it has made me more patient and loving with my family.
I should take my commitment to eschew multitasking further: Instead of filling all the short periods of waiting that come frequently at work with some other task, take advantage of them to return to awareness of and communication with God.
Adversity is an essential raw ingredient for making good people.
In the Clover Highlands during my prayer-walk today, I came away with this: The people in front of you at any given moment are the most interesting, fascinating people in the world. Certainly more interesting than myself. Act—and listen—accordingly.
Why is faith a virtue?
Faith is a virtue inasmuch as its object is trustworthy. In the classical definition of God, then, it’s a pretty strong virtue.
And as for my requests recently to experience Him in a way that is inexplicable except by His intrusion, let me remind myself that with the miracles others around me have experienced, He has given me enough to go on.
Napoléon has been taking up our evenings; that’s why I haven’t journaled in the past two days. One thing I will journal now, though, is that Carla proved superior to me last night by suggesting that we sideline the movie until after this weekend because we have other things to think about. Why didn’t I think of that? I didn’t think of it because I was so committed to routine and doing what is “right” that I didn’t even consider doing anything else.
Alcohol is deceitful like money: It has its uses, but the freedom it promises too often enslaves.
I’ve written it before: I am going to live my ordinary life in an extraordinary way: Rejoicing always, praying without ceasing, giving thanks in all circumstances, in humility of mind regarding those around me as more important than myself, loving You with all my heart, mind, soul and strength in my quotidian. I guarantee the non-quotidian will follow from there.
I am Calvin’s mom. And Calvin is my underpowered id.
Don’t extort, don’t slander: Easy. Be content with your wages: A little harder. Redistribute your wealth: Um, really? Yet John the Baptist appears to assign similar moral value to all of them.
I want to get off the goal-oriented train. I’m tired. After this choral society website and learning this Bach repertoire, I need to pause and reevaluate. Actually, maybe even not that right away. Maybe just being.
It bothers me that I’m more disciplined about journaling than I am about relating to Carla. I have allocated an hour and ten minutes toward my bedtime routine. Granted, twenty minutes of that are supposed to be for relating to Carla. But still, doesn’t that seem excessive?
With Ethan, Brandon & Jordan working The Great American Outdoor Show and Mike marooned at home and thus out of the phone queue, and the window replacement work starting, I have never ended a work day so far behind in my day-to-day workload. And boy, did it cause stress. It didn’t help that Carla discovered that we’re getting less opening in these new windows than we have in our current ones.
What I must remember it’s that it’s during these times that breaks for momentary rest become very important. When work is less demanding, that’s when breaks can be full of relationships and mini-tasks. When it’s hard to keep up, that’s when my breaks need to be moments of nothingness.
I enjoyed getting to know Daniel on our ride to GAOS and dinner at Passage to India. He affirmed my position in life, that is, being uncomfortably comfortable in my suburban life and waiting for a specific call from God to go and do something specific. But he also spurred me to lead with the Gospel. Don’t try to do good things in hopes they bring you an audience for the Gospel. Bring the Gospel and do good things. At the same time.
I used to be Calvin’s dad. (The emphasis on “used to” is a hopeful one.) I wonder what Carla would say.
Carla and I failed to find Abel Gance’s Napoléon for gratis streaming online, so we talked on the loveseat about same-sex marriage, our church, the knowledge of good and evil and whether, and Psalm 91. We enjoy one another’s company and thoughts and genuinely admire one another. (Carla cleaned up dried sewage from our basement floor this afternoon.) As I sat down the kitchen table to close the day with a journal entry, we had the following nigh-Familypants-worthy exchange:
Carla: I like Josh Ambrose. Scott: He’s always playing the educated agnostic. Carla: I like that. Scott: That’s because you’re an educated agnostic.
The most significant thing to happen to me today was the realization by contrast that taking regular breaks and approaching work levelheadedly and results in better, more thorough work, especially when deadlines loom or demands careen my way. When I worked on the small version of the Visualforce contact form for the DiamondBack Direct pages today, as if Father Time himself was harrying me and as if urgency disallowed 5-minute breaks, my work was slower, sadder, and sloppier. When I calmed down, my work was higher-speed, happier, and haler.
(Please pardon the forced alliteration. I could scarcely resist.)
What’s more, you don’t learn anything when you hurry.
Hopefully I’m not just trying to be noble for my own sake.
I’m tired. I didn’t enjoy learning Bach’s St. John Passion this evening at Choral Society rehearsal. I’ve been working hard on DiamondBack’s migration to Salesforce. I carry a slight dread of singing lessons. Why?
In brief, je me suis surmené. And I think my heart, having been dragged along for years now in my mind’s crusade for productivity, order, self-control, and a final end to absent-mindedness, is flagging. Or perhaps it has been flagging a long while before this, but I hadn’t enough self-awareness to notice.
God, Your word to me about how to handle the human heart from Scripture is, I think, another monument along this now 16-month-long, post-Fiddler journey into letting my heart come alive. Thank You. And please keep going.
Further evidence that I just need do what I want to do: I felt lighthearted and happy when Carla and the kids returned from hanging out at Peters’ house and I was just wrapping up my Saturday to-do list.
By why should a list of tasks weigh on me so?
Anyway, we capped an evening of work on the Choral Society website and a watercolor portrait from a photo of Éa with the perfectly oneiric, rightly acclaimed, but not all that entertaining Un chien andalou. We’re nearing the end of the silent film era in our quest to watch our chronological way through the BFI Sight & Sound 2012 Critics’ Poll.
At the risk of sounding like a monster, I must report that today I lashed out in anger without warning at Sullivan by throwing his flying paper dragon hard at his upper chest after he flew it past my face a few times while I was trying to master parts of the above Choral Society piece.
He was astonished and on the verge of tears. Thankfully, I realized my error immediately, apologized quickly and profusely, and embraced him. He forgave me without hesitation.
In the end, it’ll be a good example to him of how to deal with sin. But aie, that look on his face.
I’ve got to get back to rehearsing when no one is around.