Bravehearts, by Sharon A. Hersh - Not completed.
Like I said, I just couldn't get through it. Perhaps I'll come back to it when I've read all the rest.
The Scarlet Thread, by Francine Rivers - Finished.
Good, I did read it in two days. The Last Sin Eater is far above my favorite of her novels.
Becoming A Woman of Prayer, by Cynthia Heald - In progress.
One of those things where I feel like it's nothing I haven't heard before but just reading it again will help put it into my memory some more, perhaps.
True Grit: Women Taking on the World, for God's Sake, by Deborah Meroff (Operation Mobilisation) - In progress.
Excellent. Each chapter is a story of a woman's life when she puts herself into the hands of God. Very revealing of real people who struggle, sin, and find hope in the grace and love of God. Makes me want to live for Him too.
Epicenter: Why the Current Rumblings in the Middle East Will Change Your Future, by Joel C. Rosenberg - In progress.
Two nights ago Dad and I were having good conversation and one of the things that we brought up was Christ's soon return - Praise Him! The next morning I received a reply from one of my professor's in response to me asking him for some summer reading suggestions. This was one of the books. I went to amazon.com to look at it... and ended up reading the first chapter online. A few hours later I was in B&N reading more, purchasing it, and now I'm getting even further. I think it's funny how God has me reading True Grit at the same time.
A Love Worth Giving, by Max Lucado - In progress.
I wouldn't have started another book but I got it from the church library so I thought I would return it asap. Yeah, couldn't put it down last night until my eye lids could not stay open anymore. My professor had suggested a different Max Lucado book but I couldn't find that one in the library and this one looked interesting. I haven't read anything by him before.
When I returned home from the beach yesterday afternoon, I found my box from B&N. I have four more books that I can't wait to read - two that I had written down names from Donna's (my boss) bookshelf, one that I saw in a magazine, and another suggestion from a different professor.
This is going to be fun. :o)
5.29.2008
5.25.2008
First Five Days of Summer Break
Sleeping.
I'm reading Bravehearts by Sharon A. Hersh and although generally what she's saying is good food for thought, she uses so many references and quotes that it is making it tough to get through.
I did finally get into my next (after 2 from winter break) Francine Rivers book The Scarlet Thread. I just hope it's not too similar to And The Shofar Blew. Her The Last Sin Eater did top my charts as being my second favorite fiction of all-time, Persuasion by Jane Austen is now third. Love's Secret Storm, I say, will never be removed from its rank as one.
I have quite a few books piled here by my air mattress that have been gazing up at me as well as some from B&N that will be coming shortly.
My rain did turn into a beautiful day today, although Dad said it would be too cold to go to the beach. But I have a beach (something that was needed at the Pointe) so I might as well take advantage. My bleached-like legs are now the color of my cheeks when... nevermind. Praise the Lord for sunshine and a most beautiful ocean that takes my breath away when being reminded that it is still less than God's love for me!
I'm not doing anything exciting for Memorial Day.
But I did eat Alejandro's yesterday (notice the possessive referring to a restaurant not the person). Some things never change (although I'm a big fan of Cholula now which made my nose run and eyes water - mmm, mmm, good!)
AND... I received this e-mail this morning:
Katie,
Greetings from Weno where I am now living until July
1. I moved over here from Tol after graduation there
to teach a course at the TF. I saw some staff at
Mizpah and they said they missed you and to say hello.
I told them that you were jealous of me coming here.
They seems to like the fact that you missed Chuuk and
them. Trust your studies and work are going well.
Love in Christ, "Grandpa Steve" (as the students call me)
:o)
But I would like to spend lots more time with the Lord. So you can pray for me about that. Thanks.
I'm reading Bravehearts by Sharon A. Hersh and although generally what she's saying is good food for thought, she uses so many references and quotes that it is making it tough to get through.
I did finally get into my next (after 2 from winter break) Francine Rivers book The Scarlet Thread. I just hope it's not too similar to And The Shofar Blew. Her The Last Sin Eater did top my charts as being my second favorite fiction of all-time, Persuasion by Jane Austen is now third. Love's Secret Storm, I say, will never be removed from its rank as one.
I have quite a few books piled here by my air mattress that have been gazing up at me as well as some from B&N that will be coming shortly.
My rain did turn into a beautiful day today, although Dad said it would be too cold to go to the beach. But I have a beach (something that was needed at the Pointe) so I might as well take advantage. My bleached-like legs are now the color of my cheeks when... nevermind. Praise the Lord for sunshine and a most beautiful ocean that takes my breath away when being reminded that it is still less than God's love for me!
I'm not doing anything exciting for Memorial Day.
But I did eat Alejandro's yesterday (notice the possessive referring to a restaurant not the person). Some things never change (although I'm a big fan of Cholula now which made my nose run and eyes water - mmm, mmm, good!)
AND... I received this e-mail this morning:
Katie,
Greetings from Weno where I am now living until July
1. I moved over here from Tol after graduation there
to teach a course at the TF. I saw some staff at
Mizpah and they said they missed you and to say hello.
I told them that you were jealous of me coming here.
They seems to like the fact that you missed Chuuk and
them. Trust your studies and work are going well.
Love in Christ, "Grandpa Steve" (as the students call me)
:o)
But I would like to spend lots more time with the Lord. So you can pray for me about that. Thanks.
5.23.2008
"Raining" Grace
I can't believe it's raining in southern coastal California. I'm praying for sunshine.
I bought Laura Story's album. I LOVE "Mighty to Save" - we sing it in chapel. But my favorite new one is "Grace" -
My heart is so proud. My mind is so unfocused.I see the things You do through me as great things I have done. And now You gently break me, then lovingly You take me and hold me as my father and mold me as my maker.
Chorus:I ask you: How many times will you pick me up, when I keep on letting you down?And each time I will fall short of Your glory, how far will forgiveness abound? And you answer: My child, I love you.And as long as you're seeking My face, You'll walk in the pow'r of My daily sufficient grace.
At times I may grow weak and feel a bit discouraged, knowing that someone, somewhere could do a better job. For who am I to serve You?I know I don't deserve You. And that's the part that burns in my heart and keeps me hanging on.
Chorus*I ask you: How many times will you pick me up, when I keep on letting you down?And each time I will fall short of Your glory, how far will forgiveness abounds? And you answer: My child, I love you.And as long as you're seeking My face, You'll walk in the pow'r of My daily sufficient grace.
You are so patient with me, Lord.As I walk with You, I'm learning what Your grace really means. The price that I could never pay was paid at Calvary. So, instead of trying to repay You, I'm learning to simply obey You by giving up my life to you For all that You've given to me.
Chorus: I ask you: How many times will you pick me up, when I keep on letting you down?And each time I will fall short of Your glory, how far will forgiveness abounds?And you answer: My child, I love you.And as long as you're seeking My face, You'll walk in the pow'r of My daily sufficient grace.
I bought Laura Story's album. I LOVE "Mighty to Save" - we sing it in chapel. But my favorite new one is "Grace" -
My heart is so proud. My mind is so unfocused.I see the things You do through me as great things I have done. And now You gently break me, then lovingly You take me and hold me as my father and mold me as my maker.
Chorus:I ask you: How many times will you pick me up, when I keep on letting you down?And each time I will fall short of Your glory, how far will forgiveness abound? And you answer: My child, I love you.And as long as you're seeking My face, You'll walk in the pow'r of My daily sufficient grace.
At times I may grow weak and feel a bit discouraged, knowing that someone, somewhere could do a better job. For who am I to serve You?I know I don't deserve You. And that's the part that burns in my heart and keeps me hanging on.
Chorus*I ask you: How many times will you pick me up, when I keep on letting you down?And each time I will fall short of Your glory, how far will forgiveness abounds? And you answer: My child, I love you.And as long as you're seeking My face, You'll walk in the pow'r of My daily sufficient grace.
You are so patient with me, Lord.As I walk with You, I'm learning what Your grace really means. The price that I could never pay was paid at Calvary. So, instead of trying to repay You, I'm learning to simply obey You by giving up my life to you For all that You've given to me.
Chorus: I ask you: How many times will you pick me up, when I keep on letting you down?And each time I will fall short of Your glory, how far will forgiveness abounds?And you answer: My child, I love you.And as long as you're seeking My face, You'll walk in the pow'r of My daily sufficient grace.
5.22.2008
5.16.2008
5.15.2008
Foreword from book below
Many people, in their late twenties and early thirties, discover that life is getting more and more complicated. For me it was getting simpler and simpler. I was living with Indians in the forest of Ecuador, and was trying very ahrd to get down to the root of things because it seemed to me that taht was where Indians lived. This process had of course its own complications for - "simple cooking over a "simple wood fire can sometimes be more difficult than fancy cooking on an electric stove - but in matters of importance the direction of my thinking was toward the bare or simple truth. I was for some years almost wholly out of touch with all that had been familiar, and I had therefore a chance to look at it from a long way foo, to question adn compare.
The tribe that gave me the best chance to do this had been called "savage." They were the Aucas, who by reputation were also "primitive," "godless," "Stone Age" people. They themselves gave me excellent reason to question the accuracy of these terms. They were wonderful people - generous and kind from the very first night of our arrival; capable and intelligent when you saw them in their jungle environment (where white men looked anything but capable and intelligent); amenable (almost touchinglyu so) to any suggestion from us; eagerly interested in all that we did or said; a people who shared lavishly all they had and were, a people who laughed uproariously most of the time when they were together, and who worked hard when they were apart (for they did their hunting and planting usually alone). I found them easy to love.
It was these very qualities that nettled me. They simply did not fit my idead of savagery. What, then, did civilization mean? Was it merely an efficient method of complicating things?
For a whole year I watched and learned and kept my mouth shut. I had to keep my mouth shut most of the time because I did not know the Auca language. For once, I listened and had nothing to say. It was a valuable exercise, and although the language itself was highly complex, the definition of my task was simple: learn it. I ahd just that one thing to do, day after day. No social engagements, other than the standing invitation to join the Indians after sundown when they were all present, talking about the day's events in exquisite (and, of course, to me usually incomprehensible) detail. I had no "outside" activities. Nothing to complicate my life.
Some of what I learned in that mostly silent year I wrote in a book called The Savage My Kinsman.
I spent a second year there, when I had a fairly workable knowledge of the language. I learned more about the Indians, about how they felt and thought, and why they did things the way they did. As a result, more questions were raised in my mind, especially about my own thoughts and feelings and ways of doing things. Often the Auca way seemed better, or at least more defensible if one were to ask, "Why do they do it this way?" It was always a sensible and simple way.
Changes were of course inevitable with the presenceon the strip the Aucas had built. Complications crept in. I watched this with misgiving, wondering if this were the way it ought to be. Could we not keep things simple? Would not God Himself speak the Word of Truth to the Indiains? And would we have the grace to let that Word operate as He wanted it to, or would we hold out our own notions of the effect it should have?
Of changes among these people which could be directly attributed to the power of the Word of Christ I could not honestly say that I knew very much. It seemed to me that this must be a hidden matter of the heart which God alone could rightly assess. I wondered, fo course, what sort of visible chyange I might look for if the Word were being spokne (as, in the last analysis, it can only be spoken) by the Spirit of God. Jesus had said that men can be known by their fruist. I knew the fruits commonly expected by those who had never tried what I was doing. But I could nto be satisfied that the changes I was seeing were true fruits. Oddly enough, they were too "simple." Then I began to ask if I were making things complicated.
My confusion drove me to the admission that I had not as many answers as I had thought. God kept back some of the ones I wanted, and had other things to say to me. I listened. I studied the Bible, prayed, and thought. Of the Aucas were away all day - hunting and planting - and the clearnign was very quiet with only the sound of the little river, the voices of children, or the screech of a parrot.
Why was I here? To "serve the Lord," of course. But what a reply! What an awesome task I had assumed. How was I to do it? What did it mean?
I wanted to give God's Word to the Indians. What, exactly, did this mean? How would that Word be revealed? I wanted desperately to get the bottom of these issues. I did not want to be misled by prejudices born of my American culture or my church tradition.
So here are "heathen" people, I told myself. And here is the Word of Truth. There must be evidenced amond them a recognition of the difference, for example, between good and evil. Would it be the same for them as it was for me? What did God say about it? What would "Christian" conduct mean to the Aucas? I came to see that my own understanding of these subjects was not nearly as clear as I had supposed. I kept balancing the Auca way of life against the American, or against what I had always taken to be the Christian. "By their fruist," Jesus had said. "By their frusit ye shall know them." How did they compare?
I have already said that I found the Aucas easy to love, generous, intelligent, happy. But what of their morals? Here, too, a comparison did not convince me of the superiority of any other group.
I had come from a society where polygamy was illegal to one where it was permissible. Here it seemed to be merely a question of taste. A man might have as many wives as he cared to support at one time, but he did not go and help himself to another man's wife without authorization. In my society a man might neglect even the one wife he had, he might play with other men's wives, and still keep his job and most of his friends. I observed faithfulness and a strong sense of responsibility on the part of Auca husbands. Was this comparison an argument in favor of polygamy? Were there scriptural arguments against it?
One expects to find savages cruel. I found cruelty among the Aucas, but they found it in me, too. In America a man who switched a naked child with nettles would be called a sadist. Aucas considered this a legitimate and effective form of punishment, and were outraged to see me spank my three-year-old child. I was, to them, a savage. I realized after a while that neither action was necessarily motivated by cruelty, nor did it do any permanent damage. In our own country certain forms of cruelty are tolerated, others are not. But were the Aucas not killers? They were, but let us not forget that in our society it is permissible to murder a man not only in one's heart, but also by verbal;ly cutting him to pieces before his friends. Aucas had not been acquainted with this method.
In my country we hold certain standards of dress to be acceptable (for a few months or a year at a time), but a costume that would have landed its wearer in jail one year might be common on the streets of a city the next. The Aucas were unhampered by clothing (or by washing, sewing, mending, or ironing) and the caprices of fashion (with the vanity, jealousy, covetousness and discontent which fashion fosters), but stuck firmly to a code of modesty which did not change with the seasons. In their nakedness they accepted themselves and one another for what they were, always abiding by the rules: men and women did not bathe together, women taught their daughters how to sit and stand with modesty, men taught their sons how to wear the string which was their only adornment. Physiological functions were discussed in public but performed in strictest privacy.
I saw the Indians live in a harmony which far suprassed anything I had seen among those who call themselves Christians. I found taht even their killing had at least as valid reasons as the wars in which my people engaged. "By their fruits..."
Could I really offer them a better way? Jesus said, "I am the Way." He, therfore, was the one responsible to show what it was for them. I was merely His representative, and I had better be very sure I knew what He did actually say about the questions of confuct and service, for it was to Him above all others that I must give account.
In an attempt to find out, and to sort out my own convictions and give clear expression to them, I studied the New Testament and espcially the Epistles of Paul. What I found seemed to me to be important not only for me in that unusual place, but for Christians everywhere, so I wrote for The Sunday School Times the series of brief articles which is reprinted here. In the six years since I elft that particular thatched house, I have been questioned and sometimes challenged on these matters. Each time my answer has been along the lines written during thsoe days in Tewaenon. But it was my husband who first taught me to question and examine, and then to act on what one believes. He first showed me what liberty in Christ mans. Perhaps now, many years after his death, I am beginning to grasp thigns he understood. He glimpsed, I think, something of the largeness of God's heart and wanted to show it to others.
I can add ntohing to the statement of the issues set forth here. This is what I believe. Why I believe, why the issues became inescapable for me at the time, I have tried to explain in the introduction to each chapter. I hope that the introductions may help the reader to gain for himself the same perspective which clarified for me the alternatives
The tribe that gave me the best chance to do this had been called "savage." They were the Aucas, who by reputation were also "primitive," "godless," "Stone Age" people. They themselves gave me excellent reason to question the accuracy of these terms. They were wonderful people - generous and kind from the very first night of our arrival; capable and intelligent when you saw them in their jungle environment (where white men looked anything but capable and intelligent); amenable (almost touchinglyu so) to any suggestion from us; eagerly interested in all that we did or said; a people who shared lavishly all they had and were, a people who laughed uproariously most of the time when they were together, and who worked hard when they were apart (for they did their hunting and planting usually alone). I found them easy to love.
It was these very qualities that nettled me. They simply did not fit my idead of savagery. What, then, did civilization mean? Was it merely an efficient method of complicating things?
For a whole year I watched and learned and kept my mouth shut. I had to keep my mouth shut most of the time because I did not know the Auca language. For once, I listened and had nothing to say. It was a valuable exercise, and although the language itself was highly complex, the definition of my task was simple: learn it. I ahd just that one thing to do, day after day. No social engagements, other than the standing invitation to join the Indians after sundown when they were all present, talking about the day's events in exquisite (and, of course, to me usually incomprehensible) detail. I had no "outside" activities. Nothing to complicate my life.
Some of what I learned in that mostly silent year I wrote in a book called The Savage My Kinsman.
I spent a second year there, when I had a fairly workable knowledge of the language. I learned more about the Indians, about how they felt and thought, and why they did things the way they did. As a result, more questions were raised in my mind, especially about my own thoughts and feelings and ways of doing things. Often the Auca way seemed better, or at least more defensible if one were to ask, "Why do they do it this way?" It was always a sensible and simple way.
Changes were of course inevitable with the presenceon the strip the Aucas had built. Complications crept in. I watched this with misgiving, wondering if this were the way it ought to be. Could we not keep things simple? Would not God Himself speak the Word of Truth to the Indiains? And would we have the grace to let that Word operate as He wanted it to, or would we hold out our own notions of the effect it should have?
Of changes among these people which could be directly attributed to the power of the Word of Christ I could not honestly say that I knew very much. It seemed to me that this must be a hidden matter of the heart which God alone could rightly assess. I wondered, fo course, what sort of visible chyange I might look for if the Word were being spokne (as, in the last analysis, it can only be spoken) by the Spirit of God. Jesus had said that men can be known by their fruist. I knew the fruits commonly expected by those who had never tried what I was doing. But I could nto be satisfied that the changes I was seeing were true fruits. Oddly enough, they were too "simple." Then I began to ask if I were making things complicated.
My confusion drove me to the admission that I had not as many answers as I had thought. God kept back some of the ones I wanted, and had other things to say to me. I listened. I studied the Bible, prayed, and thought. Of the Aucas were away all day - hunting and planting - and the clearnign was very quiet with only the sound of the little river, the voices of children, or the screech of a parrot.
Why was I here? To "serve the Lord," of course. But what a reply! What an awesome task I had assumed. How was I to do it? What did it mean?
I wanted to give God's Word to the Indians. What, exactly, did this mean? How would that Word be revealed? I wanted desperately to get the bottom of these issues. I did not want to be misled by prejudices born of my American culture or my church tradition.
So here are "heathen" people, I told myself. And here is the Word of Truth. There must be evidenced amond them a recognition of the difference, for example, between good and evil. Would it be the same for them as it was for me? What did God say about it? What would "Christian" conduct mean to the Aucas? I came to see that my own understanding of these subjects was not nearly as clear as I had supposed. I kept balancing the Auca way of life against the American, or against what I had always taken to be the Christian. "By their fruist," Jesus had said. "By their frusit ye shall know them." How did they compare?
I have already said that I found the Aucas easy to love, generous, intelligent, happy. But what of their morals? Here, too, a comparison did not convince me of the superiority of any other group.
I had come from a society where polygamy was illegal to one where it was permissible. Here it seemed to be merely a question of taste. A man might have as many wives as he cared to support at one time, but he did not go and help himself to another man's wife without authorization. In my society a man might neglect even the one wife he had, he might play with other men's wives, and still keep his job and most of his friends. I observed faithfulness and a strong sense of responsibility on the part of Auca husbands. Was this comparison an argument in favor of polygamy? Were there scriptural arguments against it?
One expects to find savages cruel. I found cruelty among the Aucas, but they found it in me, too. In America a man who switched a naked child with nettles would be called a sadist. Aucas considered this a legitimate and effective form of punishment, and were outraged to see me spank my three-year-old child. I was, to them, a savage. I realized after a while that neither action was necessarily motivated by cruelty, nor did it do any permanent damage. In our own country certain forms of cruelty are tolerated, others are not. But were the Aucas not killers? They were, but let us not forget that in our society it is permissible to murder a man not only in one's heart, but also by verbal;ly cutting him to pieces before his friends. Aucas had not been acquainted with this method.
In my country we hold certain standards of dress to be acceptable (for a few months or a year at a time), but a costume that would have landed its wearer in jail one year might be common on the streets of a city the next. The Aucas were unhampered by clothing (or by washing, sewing, mending, or ironing) and the caprices of fashion (with the vanity, jealousy, covetousness and discontent which fashion fosters), but stuck firmly to a code of modesty which did not change with the seasons. In their nakedness they accepted themselves and one another for what they were, always abiding by the rules: men and women did not bathe together, women taught their daughters how to sit and stand with modesty, men taught their sons how to wear the string which was their only adornment. Physiological functions were discussed in public but performed in strictest privacy.
I saw the Indians live in a harmony which far suprassed anything I had seen among those who call themselves Christians. I found taht even their killing had at least as valid reasons as the wars in which my people engaged. "By their fruits..."
Could I really offer them a better way? Jesus said, "I am the Way." He, therfore, was the one responsible to show what it was for them. I was merely His representative, and I had better be very sure I knew what He did actually say about the questions of confuct and service, for it was to Him above all others that I must give account.
In an attempt to find out, and to sort out my own convictions and give clear expression to them, I studied the New Testament and espcially the Epistles of Paul. What I found seemed to me to be important not only for me in that unusual place, but for Christians everywhere, so I wrote for The Sunday School Times the series of brief articles which is reprinted here. In the six years since I elft that particular thatched house, I have been questioned and sometimes challenged on these matters. Each time my answer has been along the lines written during thsoe days in Tewaenon. But it was my husband who first taught me to question and examine, and then to act on what one believes. He first showed me what liberty in Christ mans. Perhaps now, many years after his death, I am beginning to grasp thigns he understood. He glimpsed, I think, something of the largeness of God's heart and wanted to show it to others.
I can add ntohing to the statement of the issues set forth here. This is what I believe. Why I believe, why the issues became inescapable for me at the time, I have tried to explain in the introduction to each chapter. I hope that the introductions may help the reader to gain for himself the same perspective which clarified for me the alternatives
The Liberty of Obedience, by Elisabeth Elliot
I knew when Donna had me reorganize her bookshelf I would want to read rather than clean. But I knew I couldn't take as many books as I wanted so I wrote some titles down and only took three. This one I read this morning. It was short. And excellent. I wish I could write the whole thing down here but I'll just type a poem that she writes from Frederick W. Faber:
For the Love of God is broader,
Than the measure of man's mind;
And the heart of the Eternal
Is most wonderfully kind.
But we make His love too narrow,
By false limits of our own
And we magnify its strictness,
With a zeal He will not own.
For the Love of God is broader,
Than the measure of man's mind;
And the heart of the Eternal
Is most wonderfully kind.
But we make His love too narrow,
By false limits of our own
And we magnify its strictness,
With a zeal He will not own.
5.12.2008
5.09.2008
Because God Loves Me ~ 1st Corinthians 13:4-8
Because God loves me
He is slow to lose patience with me.
Because God loves me
He takes the circumstances of my life
and uses them in a constructive way
for my growth.
Because God loves me
He does not treat me as an object to
be possessed and manipulated.
Because God loves me
He has no need to impress me
with how great and powerful
He is because He is God, nor does
He belittle me as His child in order
to show me how important He is.
Because God loves me
He is for me. He wants to see me
mature and develop in His love.
Because God loves me
He does not send down His wrath
on every little mistake I make, of
which there are many.
Because God loves me,
He does not keep score of all my sins
and then beat me over the head with
them whenever He gets the chance.
Because God loves me
He is deeply grieved when I do not
walk in the ways that please Him,
because He sees this as evidence that I
don't trust Him and love Him as I should.
Because God loves me
He rejoices when I experience His
power and strength and stand up under
the pressures of life for His Name's sake.
Because God loves me
He keeps on working patiently
with me even when I feel like
giving up and can't see why
He doesn't give up on me, too.
Because God loves me
He keeps on trusting me when
at times I don't even trust myself.
Because God loves me
He never says, "There is no hope
for you," rather, He patiently works
with me, loves me and disciplines
me in such a way that it is hard for
me to understand the depth of
His concern for me.
Because God loves me
He never forsakes me even though
many of my friends might.
Because God loves me
He stands with me when I have
reached the rock bottom of despair,
when I see the real me and compare
that with His righteousness, holiness,
beauty and love. It is at a moment
like this that I can really believe
that God loves me.
Yes, the greatest of all gifts
is God's perfect love!
5.08.2008
lyrics by Andrew Peterson
"let me sing"
I want to open up my eyes/And see a more beautiful world/Let the hand of God Almighty/Sweep His colors through my life/I want to hold tight to the laughter/And ride it like a child/On the winds that billow joyful/Through the sky
I want to open up my heart/But you know sometimes it's hard to find/Because I've buried it beneath the selfishness/That I've hidden behind/I want to stand my ground unshaken/But I want to tremble when I kneel/And let my song remain unbroken/Through the tears
chorus: So let me sing for the love/Let me love for the lost/Let me lose all I have/For what I found on the cross/Let me trust You with my life/Let me live to give You praise/Lord, let me praise You/For the grace by which I'm saved/Lord, let me sing
I want to open up Your word/And let the thirsty enter in/So they can drink deep of the water/That You've given to them/I want to run the race with vigor/I want to fight the fight with strength/And let my song rise from a whisper to a scream
I want to open up my arms/And embrace that old rugged cross/I want to take pride in the reason/And be humbled by the cause/And when this lisping, stammering tongue/Lies silent in the grave/Then in a nobler, sweeter song/I'll sing Your praise/I'll sing Your praise
"no more faith"
This is not another song about the mountains/Except about how hard they are to move/Have you ever stood before them/Like a mustard seed who's waiting for some proof
pre-chorus: I say faith is a burden/It's a weight to bear/It's brave and bittersweet/And hope is hard to hold to/Lord, I believe/Only help my unbelief
chorus: Till there's no more faith/No more hope/I'll see Your face and Lord, I'll know/When there's no more faith/And no more hope/I'll sing Your praise and let them go/'Cause only love/Only love remains
Have you heard it said that Jesus is the answer/And thought about the many doubts you hide/Have you wondered how He loves you/If He really knows how dark you are inside
So I will drive these roads in thunder and in rain/And I will sing Your song at the top of my lungs/And I will praise You, Lord, in glory and in pain/And I will follow You till this race is won/And I will drive these roads till this motor won't run/And I will sing Your song from sea to shining sea/And I will praise You, Lord, till your kingdom comes/And I will follow where You lead
I want to open up my eyes/And see a more beautiful world/Let the hand of God Almighty/Sweep His colors through my life/I want to hold tight to the laughter/And ride it like a child/On the winds that billow joyful/Through the sky
I want to open up my heart/But you know sometimes it's hard to find/Because I've buried it beneath the selfishness/That I've hidden behind/I want to stand my ground unshaken/But I want to tremble when I kneel/And let my song remain unbroken/Through the tears
chorus: So let me sing for the love/Let me love for the lost/Let me lose all I have/For what I found on the cross/Let me trust You with my life/Let me live to give You praise/Lord, let me praise You/For the grace by which I'm saved/Lord, let me sing
I want to open up Your word/And let the thirsty enter in/So they can drink deep of the water/That You've given to them/I want to run the race with vigor/I want to fight the fight with strength/And let my song rise from a whisper to a scream
I want to open up my arms/And embrace that old rugged cross/I want to take pride in the reason/And be humbled by the cause/And when this lisping, stammering tongue/Lies silent in the grave/Then in a nobler, sweeter song/I'll sing Your praise/I'll sing Your praise
"no more faith"
This is not another song about the mountains/Except about how hard they are to move/Have you ever stood before them/Like a mustard seed who's waiting for some proof
pre-chorus: I say faith is a burden/It's a weight to bear/It's brave and bittersweet/And hope is hard to hold to/Lord, I believe/Only help my unbelief
chorus: Till there's no more faith/No more hope/I'll see Your face and Lord, I'll know/When there's no more faith/And no more hope/I'll sing Your praise and let them go/'Cause only love/Only love remains
Have you heard it said that Jesus is the answer/And thought about the many doubts you hide/Have you wondered how He loves you/If He really knows how dark you are inside
So I will drive these roads in thunder and in rain/And I will sing Your song at the top of my lungs/And I will praise You, Lord, in glory and in pain/And I will follow You till this race is won/And I will drive these roads till this motor won't run/And I will sing Your song from sea to shining sea/And I will praise You, Lord, till your kingdom comes/And I will follow where You lead
5.07.2008
last two weeks...
I'll put up some pictures of some of my friends soon. I took some just now at the last Grad/Sem chapel and picnic that we had outside - gorgeous day. Saturday I'm going to Dr. Hislop's house for a TEFL end-of-the-year pool party and Tuesday night I'm going to Dr. Cashin's house for a potluck. So hopefully I'll have even more pictures.
5.06.2008
Words to Live By, by Charles Osgood
There are traps in the English language that are more easily fallen into than gotten out of. One of these is to get so bogged down in the so-called rules that you make it difficult for the person on the receiving end to understand what you are talking about.
At the beginning of every broadcast day, I sign on. At the end, I sign off. There is much work to be done in between. On radio alone there are twenty-one broadcasts a week to be turned out. Each of these has a number of sentences that it's composed of. Words are what each sentence is made up of. What order should these words be put in?
There is a violation of the writing rules which I admit I am frequently guilty of. It is a trap that is easy to fall into. However, it is one that I do not worry much about. Ending a sentence with a preposition is what I am referring to. The astute reader may discover several instances of what I'm talking about in the very piece you are now looking at. Ending a sentence with a preposition is considered okay where I come from. (Some may feel that wherever I come from I should go back to.) Recently I ended a sentence with a preposition, realizing full well that a preposition is what some people think you should never, under any circumstances, end a sentence with. Such people I'm sick to death of, fed up with, and put off by.
If terminal prepositionalism is an error, it is one that there is plenty of distinguished precedent for. Winston Churchill was once taken to task for ending one of his elegant sentences with a preposition and his withering reply was: "This is the sort of arrant pedantry up with which I will not put."
With me, it all depends on the mood I'm in. Sometimes I don't write sentences that you would want to put a preposition at the end of. Other times the caboose position is the one the little preposition seems to cry out for.
I remember reading somewhere the observation that Pittsburgh is a bad city to get something in your eye in. However, it was pointed out, Pittsburgh happens to be a very good city to get something in your eye out in. This is perfectly logical, since a city people often get something in their eyes in would have a lot of experience in getting things people have gotten in their eyes out.
The placement of prepositions in sentences is not the sort of issue that gets me all riled up. In fact, the people who fuss about such things are the ones I get mad at. There's a story they tell at Harvard University about a visitor to the campus who asks, "Excuse me, but would you be good enough to tell me where the Widener Library is at?"
"Sir," was the sneering reply, "at Harvard we do not end a sentence with a preposition."
"Well, in that case, forgive me," said the visitor. "Permit me to rephrase my question. Would you be good enough to tell me where the Widener Library is at, jackass?"
I think that pretty well sums it up.
At the beginning of every broadcast day, I sign on. At the end, I sign off. There is much work to be done in between. On radio alone there are twenty-one broadcasts a week to be turned out. Each of these has a number of sentences that it's composed of. Words are what each sentence is made up of. What order should these words be put in?
There is a violation of the writing rules which I admit I am frequently guilty of. It is a trap that is easy to fall into. However, it is one that I do not worry much about. Ending a sentence with a preposition is what I am referring to. The astute reader may discover several instances of what I'm talking about in the very piece you are now looking at. Ending a sentence with a preposition is considered okay where I come from. (Some may feel that wherever I come from I should go back to.) Recently I ended a sentence with a preposition, realizing full well that a preposition is what some people think you should never, under any circumstances, end a sentence with. Such people I'm sick to death of, fed up with, and put off by.
If terminal prepositionalism is an error, it is one that there is plenty of distinguished precedent for. Winston Churchill was once taken to task for ending one of his elegant sentences with a preposition and his withering reply was: "This is the sort of arrant pedantry up with which I will not put."
With me, it all depends on the mood I'm in. Sometimes I don't write sentences that you would want to put a preposition at the end of. Other times the caboose position is the one the little preposition seems to cry out for.
I remember reading somewhere the observation that Pittsburgh is a bad city to get something in your eye in. However, it was pointed out, Pittsburgh happens to be a very good city to get something in your eye out in. This is perfectly logical, since a city people often get something in their eyes in would have a lot of experience in getting things people have gotten in their eyes out.
The placement of prepositions in sentences is not the sort of issue that gets me all riled up. In fact, the people who fuss about such things are the ones I get mad at. There's a story they tell at Harvard University about a visitor to the campus who asks, "Excuse me, but would you be good enough to tell me where the Widener Library is at?"
"Sir," was the sneering reply, "at Harvard we do not end a sentence with a preposition."
"Well, in that case, forgive me," said the visitor. "Permit me to rephrase my question. Would you be good enough to tell me where the Widener Library is at, jackass?"
I think that pretty well sums it up.
5.01.2008
my favorite animals
Dr. Hislop used manatee in his example sentence the other day in class. Then he told us this story about living in Florida and taking his son to go see the manatees. You could touch them if you wanted to but his little boy was afraid. Dr. Hislop laughed and said, "They feel like hairy sandpaper." Precious.
I was listening to the radio on the way to work today and they were talking about humor in prayer. One guy said, "We know God has a sense of humor, just look at the platypus." I was laughing so hard.
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