Some introspection while walking home from a nighttime walk with Matt after an evening when I failed miserably to bring together a cohesive Spring Break plan for the family:
Too often at home and at church and, historically at least, at work, I stand opposed to and suspicious of what’s being brought by others. Blame eighteen years as an academic. (I’m using that term very loosely to include K-12 and undergraduate.) Blame a natural bent of my mind.
But that’s not what’s gonna get it done. When I say “it,” I mean togetherness, I mean unity of vision and will. I mean a sense of belonging and cherishing. I mean laughter.
No, what I need if I want those things at my kitchen table, in church, and at work is the “Yes! And…” spirit of improv. Bring myself and what I have to offer in a positive sense, sure—and honor that which others bring of themselves. “Yes, that’s right! And we can do this…” That’s so good. That’s the way.
I will hazard an unsubstantiated guess that two-parent families in which only one parent participates in the full-time workforce are, on average, healthier, happier families as families than ones in which both parents do.
“Having different gracious gifts, according to the grace given us: if prophecy, according to the proportion of faithfulness…” (Romans 12:6, DBH). If Hart’s translation is correct, then one should prophesy in proportion to one’s demonstrated faithfulness, not according to one’s faith, the latter word being the majority translation in this context vacant of meaning.
In other words, only prophesy if your deeds warrant you time with the microphone.
“Having different gracious gifts, according to the grace given us: if prophecy, according to the proportion of faithfulness…” (Romans 12:6, DBH). If Hart’s translation is correct, then one should prophesy in proportion to one’s demonstrated faithfulness, not according to one’s faith, the latter word being the majority translation in this context vacant of meaning.
In other words, only prophesy if your deeds warrant your time with the microphone.
One option for fitting together the forgiveness on offer from God: If forgiveness is nothing more than disavowal of hatred and claims to requital or punishment, then He judges us, but He does not sentence us. And He always, always loves us and never hates us. It is still a terrible thing to fall into it. Fire and fear, and all that. But no punishment other than the mortification of being seen.
The Father did not abandon Jesus to crucifixion because He was angry with humanity.
Jesus’ crucifixion, rightly understood, puts an end to blood sacrifice. (Note the torn curtain.)
We are to imitate Jesus.
The Father does not like blood or violence.
How I disagree with Hardin:
Making amends, which is what some of the Levitical sacrifices, including the big one (Yom Kippur) were all about, is good and right.
God instituted, or at least did not contradict Jewish belief that He instituted, the Levitical sacrifices.
Jesus’ death affirms the logic of the Levitical sacrifices as just even if it simultaneously exposes their form (violence against innocent victims) as unjust.
It is unclear to me what Hardin can make of John the Baptizer’s insistence that Jesus was the “lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world” (John 1:29,36).
Part of 1 Corinthians 16 is as a good a motto as one can find: “Do everything in love.” Since so much of my life comprises words, and since the biblical proverbialists, Jesus, and James all emphasize the power and importance of our words, I’m going to provisionally subset the motto to concentrate its effect: “Say everything in love.”
There is a man from Klinger Heights
Who keeps the good of man in sight
Always wants to please the Lord
And as a result, is never bored
His birthday today, we won’t say which
«cough 46!» Oop! That was a glitch.
Just listened to: A Sea Symphony, premiered by Ralph Vaughan Williams in 1910 and recorded in 2014 by Hallé—their orchestra and their two choirs—plus two other choirs—because how else do you evoke the vastness of the ocean and remind everyone this is how the 20th-century renaissance of English classical music began—than with four choirs? Subtle this is not. A bombastically English response to when the Frenchy-Japonesque La mer is not enough.
Not that this piece lacks quiet moments: You may have come for the giant “Behold, the sea itself!” that opens the first movement, but you’ll stay for the evocations of solitude on the beach in the second movement.
“If you find honey, eat just what you need, lest you have your fill of it and throw it up” (Proverbs 25:16). Anything, even very pleasant things like musicmaking or music listening, can become noxious if too much.