I’m tired of just praying. I want to be the answer to the prayers, especially the prayers for people, that I’m praying.

That means more phone calls, more letters, an earnest attempt to seek out the Maldives, etc.

To our surprise and disappointment, Council voted 3-2 to reject the ordinance as written. That settles the matter until at least after the next election; to insist Council take the matter up again any earlier would be inconsiderate and likely rejected.

How they can go from a consensus agreement at the previous public hearing to keep the chicken ordinance alive, directing staff to make specific modifications, to a 3-2 vote at this public hearing to completely reject the ordinance, staff having made the very modifications they specified, is baffling.

They remastered Aqualung in 2011, and somehow I missed it. Now, if only Ian Anderson had been less crotchety about God and religion.

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.

Acts 26:8 is a phrase that contains the heart of the problems of using a Bayesian probability approach to the question of the Resurrection: “Why is it considered incredible among you people if God does raise the dead?” In other words, if you’re a theist, it isn’t that hard to believe in a resurrection. If you’re an atheist, then yes, obviously, it’s, um, unlikely, to say the least.

I am very proud to walk town with my children. Among several reasons that came to mind this evening, Éa insisted we take this photo of this 150-year-old magnolia tree planted by Fred Waring, the northernmost species of magnolia—because she loves her friend whose middle name is Magnolia.

I think it would be good to eventually get in the habit of reading my journal from a year ago, five years ago, and ten years ago to the day.

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.

self:

Exactly one year ago today, I have down in my journal that you told me in a videochat that you were wanting a supernatural experience to help you firmly believe that Jesus is alive. I share that desire. Any luck? I’m reading a book on the subject you might find interesting.

friend:

An interesting question. If I’m honest, no, that hasn’t happened yet. I do, however, feel a bit less inner conflict between my desire for rational truth about the way the universe works and my faith, or culture, or whatever it is. Maybe I’m becoming more content with my inner discontent. Maybe I do have a relationship with God. We’re working it out.

For whatever it’s worth I’m meandering my way through Richard Rohr’s Everything Belongs and think it’s pretty interesting. One of the appealing aspects of modern Catholic thought is that they reconcile faith and thinking as a dualism rather than a battle. His book sometimes feels a little close to the edge of my tolerance for meaningless easternisms, but...

Yes, somewhere, somehow—and I pray it get deeper—I rejoice in sufferings, including recent doubts, and I lament my good fortune.

But trials bring about perseverance? That is a reversal of common sense.

I took an impromptu break from work late morning today to cuddle with Carla and tell her about the occasional pit in my stomach I’ve been feeling when ruminating on my doubts and when approaching the kids, or really about being wrong about anything. It was reassuring just to talk with her about it, to relate my fears and doubts to someone, and to hear in myself a commitment to endure in Christ-ward faith.

Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing (James 1:2-4).

and

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who according to His great mercy has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to obtain an inheritance which is imperishable and undefiled and will not fade away, reserved in heaven for you, who are protected by the power of God through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you greatly rejoice, even though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been distressed by various trials, so that the proof of your faith, being more precious than gold which is perishable, even though tested by fire, may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ; and though...

Has prayer for relief from suffering for oneself ever been answered? I ask because I find it curious that all the testimonies of healings that I’ve heard all feature one person praying for another.

God could have just announced the gospel of Jesus Christ to the Gentile Himself, but He didn’t. But he commissioned Paul instead. Why?

Doubt makes me want to puke.

God, You must decide not to answer some prayer, and it must be for a good reason. I can’t believe that You are so weak as to be thwarted in such a simple prayer as “God, please help me fall asleep,” or “God, please keep the bad dreams away,” or so mean as to callously turn a deaf ear to such a request. You decide to withhold for a reason. I think this happens more than the open theists allow. They overemphasize the success of those who thwart You.

Childhood’s Gate Children’s Garden at the Penn State Arboretum is a wonderland. Thank you for building it.

But please tell me this sign is meant to be ironic.

I have recently decided to protest the apparently common atheist assertion that praying people pray only for those things that might happen without divine intervention anyway by praying for things I know God wants but that would also be impossible without Him.

For the second consecutive year, I’ve been referred to Chris Kiver by an outstanding member of the State College Choral Society to audition for the Orpheus Singers: Colleen emailed me today about it.

Other than the remarkable depth to which my telling her as an aside that I wasn’t going to sing with the Choral Society this season felt like a confession, the thing I found most remarkable about my emotional response to this message was how much it stirred up again my desires to be a specialist. To pick something, just one thing, and concentrate all my energies into mastering it. Choral singing, solo singing, pop singing, hootenannies, improving neighborhood walkability, improving neighborhood bikeability, building relationships in my neighborhood, front-end web development, sales, tweeting, music appreciation—the list of possibilities feels endless. However, nothing pulls my affections like singing, perhaps because it’s the one with which I have the longest history, the one for which I...

You could see distress primarily as an obstacle to faith. But it might be more useful to see it as a means of grace.

Even better, you could see distress as an opportunity to help.

With “40 (How Long),” U2 beat IHOPKC to harp & bowl by fifteen years.

Walking is one of my favorite activities. That means this afternoon made my happy: I not only got to walk the sheep pastures with God and sing snippets of Delirious? numbers to Him, but also got to walk from Sunset Park to Pattee Library to Rec Hall and back—about one mile each way—with Sullivan and Éa, who enjoyed seeing the sights and climbing things as much as I enjoyed watching them enjoy them.

On our Saturday morning errands, feeling proudly countercultural, I suggested the kids walk ahead of me to Barnes & Noble while I returned spoons Carla had bought from Ross Dress for Less. Sullivan’s eyes widened with excitement at the prospect. So they did it, following the sidewalk as much as they could, as instructed.

In my perfect world, there would be sidewalks connecting Ross to Barnes & Noble, and it would not be extraordinary for a six-year-old to walk to a building three hundred feet away from his dad.

(The photos is from our walk back to the car together.)

Well, what do you know? We just contributed to the happiness, or at least the punctuality, of fellow travelers from Quebec to Baxter State Park. And the border guards on the logging roads near Saint-Just-de-Bretenières got their wish to be a little lonelier:

Today, Richard Beck combined two of my favorite things: ecclesiology and Calvin & Hobbes.