I attempt to limit visits to the bookstore. Oh, don’t get me wrong – I love bookstores. I get positively giddy about them, wandering around in a heady euphoria that garners me strange looks from the rest of the clientele. Meh. Pseudobibliophiles. Sometimes, it’s enough just to touch the books, savor their heft and thickness, delve gingerly into the first few pages. Talk of the Devil: Encounters with Seven Dictators. A Benjamin Franklin Education. A first-hand account of late-WWII Berlin under Russian occupation. Yet another scientist claims that evolution and God, science and religion, naturalism and theism can be friends. Treatises on chaos theory and quarks and that elusive Higgs Boson. A small square cookbook in pale green with a perfect bowl of soup, fragrant and steamy, on the cover. Leather-bound copies of Shakespeare. A novel about a medieval illuminator who dares to illustrate John Wycliffe’s English Bible. Mmmm. I could live in a bookstore, living off free coffee and trash-can-diving treasures, sleeping . . . only when necessary.

But, I digress. I attempt to limit visits to the bookstore because of the potential for irreparable damage to my income. Bargain books, especially, are my downfall. Any purchase can be justified if it’s 40% off. Libraries, on the other hand, are relatively guilt-free. I can happily pile book upon book until the stack reaches from my fingertips to my chin, shrug off the raised eyebrows of librarians, gleefully resist the offer of a bag, return the books in three days, and start over again, my last two dimes still jingling in my pocket – the sole survivors of a Powell’s shopping spree. Except for library book sales – they get me in trouble, too.

Re: my post on July 25th . . . I crave knowledge as much as any Eve out there, hence my bookstore obsession, and it still irks me to have Christians painted as ignorant by the world, even though I know, I know that their opinion doesn’t matter. And simply because I advocate a certain approach to learning and intellectualism, or anything else for that matter, doesn’t mean I’ve got it all figured out, or even that I follow my own advice most of the time. My posts are more often prayers and sermons directed at myself than anything else.

I charge you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my beloved, that ye tell him, that I am sick of love.

Such is the language of the believer panting after present fellowship with Jesus, he is sick for his Lord. Gracious souls are never perfectly at ease except they are in a state of nearness to Christ; for when they are away from Him they lose their peace. The nearer to Him, the fuller the heart is, not only of peace, but of life, and vigour, and joy, for all these depend on constant intercourse with Jesus. What the sun is to the day, what the moon is to the night, what the dew is to the flower, such is Jesus Christ to us. What bread is to the hungry, clothing to the naked, the shadow of a great rock to the traveller in a weary land, such is Jesus Christ; and, therefore, if we are not consciously one with Him, little marvel if our spirit cries in the words of the Song, "I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem, if ye find my beloved, tell him that I am sick of love." This earnest longing after Jesus has a blessing attending it: "Blessed are they that do hunger and thirst after righteousness"; and therefore, supremely blessed are they who thirst after the Righteous One. Blessed is that hunger, since it comes from God: if I may not have the full-blown blessedness of being filled, I would seek the same blessedness in its sweet budpining in emptiness and eagerness till I am filled with Christ. If I may not feed on Jesus, it shall be next door to heaven to hunger and thirst after Him. There is a hallowedness about that hunger, since it sparkles among the beatitudes of our Lord. But the blessing involves a promise. Such hungry ones "shall be filled" with what they are desiring. If Christ thus causes us to long after Himself, He will certainly satisfy those longings; and when He does come to us, as come He will, oh, how sweet it will be!

-- C. H. Spurgeon

Jordan (1)

Who says that fictions only and false hair
Become a verse? Is there in truth no beauty
Is all good structure in a winding stair?
May no lines pass, except they do their duty
Not to a true, but painted chair?

Is it no verse, except enchanted groves
And sudden arbors shadow coarse-spun lines?
Must purling streams refresh a lover's loves?
Must all be veiled, while he that reads, divines,
Catching the sense at two removes?

Shepherds are honest people; let them sing:
Riddle who list, for me, and pull for Prime:
I envy no man's nightingale or spring;
Nor let them punish me with loss of rhyme,
Who plainly say, My God, My King.

Jordan (2)

When first my lines of heav'nly joys mde mention,
Such was their lustre, they did so excel,
That I sought out quaint words, and trim invention;
My thoughts began to burnish, sprout, and swell,
Curling with metaphors a plain intention,
Decking the sense, as if it were to sell.

Thousands of notions in my brain did run,
Off'ring their service, if I were not sped:
I often blotted what I had begun;
This was not quick enough, and that was dead.
Nothing could seem too rich to clothe the sun,
Much less those joys which trample on his head.

As flames do work and wind, when they ascend,
So did I weave myself into the sense.
But while I bustled, I might hear a friend
Whisper, How wide is all this long pretence!
There is in love a sweetness ready penned:
Copy out only that, and save expense.

-- George Herbert

Me after too much late-night blogging:















That's right. I polymerize after midnight.


















Ah, the trials of having a Mac that keeps you up at night.

Reading about the Federal Vision in the OPC's Report on Justification is a peculiar experience as I have seen, first-hand, the practical outworking of that theology. I have seen the doctrines of the Reformation have less effect on people's lives than the few screwball ideas to which the congregants of Khrist Kirk tenaciously hold (good grammar, awful sentence -- which is why I'm somewhat of a deconstructionist). Their hypercovenantalism and leanings toward baptismal regeneration make them cavalier about sin -- any sin, except that of disagreeing with them. Their interest in the Great Commission is about nil (unless you consider singing psalms in nursing homes and serving hot chocolate and cookies to your detractors to be the proclamation of the gospel to the lost). And their preteristic post-millenialism borders on the absurd (essentially, we're in the process of transforming this earth into the new earth of the second coming -- and the judgement has already occurred). They're beginning to rival Mormonism with their horde of strange doctrines, and that's saying something.

I wonder if anyone has ever made it through John Owen's writings on the mortification of sin with an intact faith in one's own clear-sightedness regarding sin. Mine was thoroughly quashed by his description of how wily and deceitful sin is and the myriad excuses the flesh makes for it. However, as one precariously teetering on the threshold of assurance, I found his words too harshly realistic to bear without the blazing counterpoint of grace. Or, perhaps, I am just a coward.

I read a passage from Elizabeth Prentiss’ letters the other day that sums up something I have been musing on for a while. She speaks of

the wish without the will to be holy. We pray for sanctification and then are afraid God will sanctify us by stripping us of our idols and feel distressed lest we can not have them and Him too. Reading the life of Madame Guyon gave me great pain and anxiety, I remember. I thought that if such spiritual darkness and trial as she was in for many years, was a necessary attendant on eminent piety, I could not summon courage to try to live such a life. Of all the anguish in the world there is nothing like this -- the sense of God, without the sense of nearness to Him.

My Madame Guyon was John Bunyan. I blew through Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners in one afternoon and evening. It was simultaneously comforting and terrifying that Bunyan’s experience was so like mine – moments of grace and consolation and zeal followed by darkness, coldness of heart, deadness, apathy, temptation, vehement wrestling with the flesh and the devil. I know well his particular temptation towards unbelief. The thought that the gospel is false and that there is no God in the world often grips me with such violent despair that I feel like killing myself. It “removeth the foundations from under me.”

I often tremble at the thought of what trials await me as I strive to be holy. But I would rather be broken and resting only on the sufficiency of Christ than complacent and secure in doctrinal purity or personal righteousness. Humble me, wound me, Lord Jesus, that I might stay nearer to thee, and have not a thought for myself but be completely, totally absorbed in love to thee.

From the conclusion to Grace Abounding:

I find to this day seven abominations in my heart: (1) Inclinings to unbelief. (2) Suddenly to forget the love and mercy that Christ manifesteth. (3) A leaning to the works of the law. (4) Wanderings and coldness in prayer. (5) To forget to watch for that I pray for. (6) Apt to murmur because I have no more, and yet ready to abuse what I have. (7) I can do none of those things which God commands me, but my corruptions will thrust in themselves, 'When I would do good, evil is present with me.'

These things I continually see and feel, and am afflicted and oppressed with; yet the wisdom of God doth order them for my good. (1) They make me abhor myself. (2) They keep me from trusting my heart. (3) They convince me of the insufficiency of all inherent righteousness. (4) They show me the necessity of flying to Jesus. (5) They press me to pray unto God. (6) They show me the need I have to watch and be sober. (7) And provoke me to look to God, through Christ, to help me, and carry me through this world. Amen.

Re: our conversation on 06/28/2004 . . .

From the preface to the Orthodox Presbyterian Church's Report on Justification:

A noteworthy feature of current theological debates, including those on justification, is the dynamic of the internet. The internet has produced the opportunity both to disseminate rapidly one’s opinions and to obtain information quickly that was undreamed of until very recent years. While the internet presents exciting opportunities for communicating the gospel and Reformed theology more generally, it also presents dangers and temptations. One temptation is to post opinions without due reflection and without proper accountability to others. While the ordinary process of publication requires material to be read and critiqued by others before going into print, internet posting allows material to be circulated without going through these ordinary channels. This increases the danger that material is promulgated in an irresponsible manner, as authors promote their opinions promiscuously without being properly accountable to others and before receiving valuable feedback, as wisdom, humility, and love require. In this environment of internet posting, likewise, readers are less able to judge the competency and qualifications of those who circulate material.

If I ever doubt my salvation, that longing unto physical sickness for the presence of God that pierces me daily would make me think otherwise. It is hard for me to wait for Heaven – granted, I'm not a terribly patient person to begin with – but on those days when nothing but His palpable presence can surfeit, the guilt of my sin overshadows my soul, and worldliness feels like a slow poison seeping into my heart, I long to see Him as He is, and to be like Him. I pray that God will keep me so broken only He can heal, so needy only He can satisfy.

My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.
When shall I come and appear before God?

O God, You are my God;
Early will I seek You;
My soul thirsts for You;
My flesh longs for You
In a dry and thirsty land
Where there is no water.

I'm not sure how I feel about movies – what's acceptable to watch, what's not, where the Christian should draw the line. I used to think that Hollywood romanticism and sappy sentimentalism were more damaging to a Christian worldview than other films which very bluntly showed the effects of total depravity. Whatever else, at least the non-believers watching the latter wouldn't get any wrong ideas about the nature of man. But, many have confronted the fact of fallen man and a fallen world and become nihilists. A belief in total depravity, as much as I hate to say it, doesn't lead seamlessly into recognizing a need for salvation.

I used to think that it was necessary for Christians to get away from the ridicule engendered by films such as Left Behind and show the world that they, too, could be “gritty” and “relentless” in their look at “reality.” I used to think that movies, to some degree, could be a common ground upon which to witness – provided that I watched the right ones, usually rated R. But now I see that because I wasn't different from the world in the ways that matter, I had to draw it in by a display of similarity – a classic evangelical church-building tactic. My Christianity should be obvious to the world, not necessarily by the films I watch, but by how I pursue God and love those around me. I think if non-Christians saw the effects of a Christlike love in me, they'd be willing to overlook a reserved taste in movies. Little House on the Prairie, anyone?

Kidding.

Montana.

The put-in.
















Rafting on the Clark Fork River.
















Fang.