"What good with it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul?" Matthew 16:26
Last weekend my parents had some missionaries over for lunch who my mother has been friends with for many years. They talked about the trials they have been facing in Europe and North Africa and how much they needed prayer from the churches here. But what I found interesting was a comment the wife had made. She talked about how they had gone to church that morning and found it to be a weird experience. She said that it was funny how church seemed to be so much of a social event that only happened for about an hour then ended. "You know" she commented "church is suppose to be a lifestyle." Now it's not like I hadnt heard this before, but coming from someone who it really was a lifestyle for it meant a lot. Being a christian for them is about sacrificing their wants and desires daily. To suffer is really to love. I dont even know how to suffer. All I have done for the last two weeks is nothing but waste my life. Its so hard to make that jump, to truly give up everything, when you already feel like you are serving. But its still not enough. It doesnt fulfill. Its like I am still holding on but oh.. how I want to let go.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Saturday, December 8, 2007
"It was when I was happiest that I longed most...The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing...to find the place where all the beauty came from." - C.S. Lewis
I woke up this morning not in the highest spirits so i decided to take a trip to the mall and buy some Christmas presents. I walked into Hollister and as I reached over a table to grab a shirt my eyes met with a chubby junior high girl. The girl looked at me as if I were a goddess- like I was what she had for years aspired to be... a thin college girl. I graciously smiled back and walked out of the store.
How sad is our society. I wish that I could have told the little girl that her aspirations were empty. That her body would either never be beautiful enough causing people to reject her..or if she was beautiful people would only use her. I wanted to tell her that the people deemed "beautiful" in her eyes in reality are cold and cruel. That vanity would destroy her mind then her body physically then finally her soul. How sad it is that so many precious and pure girls will be sucked down such a destructive path which will promise them everything except for what they will truly gain leaving them only broken, empty, and dirty.
I woke up this morning not in the highest spirits so i decided to take a trip to the mall and buy some Christmas presents. I walked into Hollister and as I reached over a table to grab a shirt my eyes met with a chubby junior high girl. The girl looked at me as if I were a goddess- like I was what she had for years aspired to be... a thin college girl. I graciously smiled back and walked out of the store.
How sad is our society. I wish that I could have told the little girl that her aspirations were empty. That her body would either never be beautiful enough causing people to reject her..or if she was beautiful people would only use her. I wanted to tell her that the people deemed "beautiful" in her eyes in reality are cold and cruel. That vanity would destroy her mind then her body physically then finally her soul. How sad it is that so many precious and pure girls will be sucked down such a destructive path which will promise them everything except for what they will truly gain leaving them only broken, empty, and dirty.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
"He himself gives to all people life and breath and all things; and He made from one man every nation of mankind to live on all the face of the earth, having determined their appointed times..." Acts 17:20
The final day of my philosophy class everyone sat anxious in their seats ready to go. It was the day everyone had been waiting for. Topic for the day : The meaning of life. The whole semester my class had gone through every philosopical topic you could imagine while being guided by a brilliant atheist who had systematically answered every question pertaining to every topic. This secular point of view had completely torn down all "religious" answers which were merely a "crutch" to our ability to truly think. But now for the icing on the cake- could we "reason" with the ulitimate question? Could we truly create meaning? We started off with discussing that maybe the "point" was to simply be happy- to avoid everything that may cause pain and stick with doing that which is "safe." But isnt happiness momentary? That would not do we concluded. There most be another answer. Next we discussed nihilism- maybe we should not really believe in anything and accept that there is no meaning..no purpose. My professor paused. "Maybe you can just accept that life is a bitch but most people cant because most people feel that something greater transcends mankind giving us a longing for something more."
At that was it. That was the end of the class. What a joke.
One of the biggest problems people have with theism is accepting that God allows suffering and evil to exist. But what if we could turn the tables and reply that the answer is actually in the question?
What if suffering creates meaning? When someone hurts they question the purpose in it. But what if the purpose is so that person is given a broader view of the world and brings them closer to God? Suffering gives us depth.
"The fate he had been marked for he had met with vengance- he had emptied the cup to the lees; he had been the man of his time, the man, to whom nothing on earth was to have happened. That was the rare stroke- that was his visitation. It was the truth, vivid and monstrous, that all the while he had waited the wait itself his portion.
The escape would have been to love her; then he would have lived. It had sprung as he didn't guess; it had sprung as she hopelessly turned from him, and the mark, by the time he left her, had fallen where it was to fall. He had justified his fear and achieved his fate; he had failed...a moan now rose to his lips as he remembered she had prayed he mightn't know. This horror of waking- this was knowledge, knowledge under the breath of which the very tears in his eyes seemed to freeze. Through them, none the less, he tried to fix it and hold it; he kept it there before him so that he might feel the pain. That at least, belated and bitter, had something of the taste of life. But the bitterness suddenly sickened him, and it was as if, horribly, he saw, in the truth, in the cruelty of his image, what had been appointed and done." - Henry James
The final day of my philosophy class everyone sat anxious in their seats ready to go. It was the day everyone had been waiting for. Topic for the day : The meaning of life. The whole semester my class had gone through every philosopical topic you could imagine while being guided by a brilliant atheist who had systematically answered every question pertaining to every topic. This secular point of view had completely torn down all "religious" answers which were merely a "crutch" to our ability to truly think. But now for the icing on the cake- could we "reason" with the ulitimate question? Could we truly create meaning? We started off with discussing that maybe the "point" was to simply be happy- to avoid everything that may cause pain and stick with doing that which is "safe." But isnt happiness momentary? That would not do we concluded. There most be another answer. Next we discussed nihilism- maybe we should not really believe in anything and accept that there is no meaning..no purpose. My professor paused. "Maybe you can just accept that life is a bitch but most people cant because most people feel that something greater transcends mankind giving us a longing for something more."
At that was it. That was the end of the class. What a joke.
One of the biggest problems people have with theism is accepting that God allows suffering and evil to exist. But what if we could turn the tables and reply that the answer is actually in the question?
What if suffering creates meaning? When someone hurts they question the purpose in it. But what if the purpose is so that person is given a broader view of the world and brings them closer to God? Suffering gives us depth.
"The fate he had been marked for he had met with vengance- he had emptied the cup to the lees; he had been the man of his time, the man, to whom nothing on earth was to have happened. That was the rare stroke- that was his visitation. It was the truth, vivid and monstrous, that all the while he had waited the wait itself his portion.
The escape would have been to love her; then he would have lived. It had sprung as he didn't guess; it had sprung as she hopelessly turned from him, and the mark, by the time he left her, had fallen where it was to fall. He had justified his fear and achieved his fate; he had failed...a moan now rose to his lips as he remembered she had prayed he mightn't know. This horror of waking- this was knowledge, knowledge under the breath of which the very tears in his eyes seemed to freeze. Through them, none the less, he tried to fix it and hold it; he kept it there before him so that he might feel the pain. That at least, belated and bitter, had something of the taste of life. But the bitterness suddenly sickened him, and it was as if, horribly, he saw, in the truth, in the cruelty of his image, what had been appointed and done." - Henry James
Friday, November 9, 2007
It is the duty of the human understanding to understand that there are things which it cannot understand, and what those things are. Human understanding has vulgarly occupied itself with nothing but understanding, but if it would only take the trouble to understand itself at the same time it would simply have to posit the paradox.- soren kierkegaard
Today in my philosophy class we were discussing Nietzsche's master/slave morality. Basically, he believed that most people are losers- most people trick themselves into believing they are free when in fact they are blindly buying into other peoples ideologies in which they are enslaved by. I find it ironic though that in Nietzche's attempt to provoke individualism, he in the end created his own followers. I asked my T.A. "isnt it ironic that so many people devoutly follow Nietzsche's teaching- conforming to his 'individualistic ideologies" - he laughed.
A boy sitting behind me declared that I was the class "spokesman."
Just something I was pondering.
ps. I think that Nietzsche was a miserable man, and in the "godless" world he paints it is so evident how corrupt man is without God.
Today in my philosophy class we were discussing Nietzsche's master/slave morality. Basically, he believed that most people are losers- most people trick themselves into believing they are free when in fact they are blindly buying into other peoples ideologies in which they are enslaved by. I find it ironic though that in Nietzche's attempt to provoke individualism, he in the end created his own followers. I asked my T.A. "isnt it ironic that so many people devoutly follow Nietzsche's teaching- conforming to his 'individualistic ideologies" - he laughed.
A boy sitting behind me declared that I was the class "spokesman."
Just something I was pondering.
ps. I think that Nietzsche was a miserable man, and in the "godless" world he paints it is so evident how corrupt man is without God.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
the grand weaver
While reading the grand weaver by ravi zacharias I found this story and really liked it.
In September 1985, Readers Digest ran a story titled "Letter in the Wallet," Written by Arnold Fine. Fine tells how one bitterly cold day he stumbled upon a wallet on the street. It had just three dollars in it and a crumpled-up letter that obviously had been carried around for many years. The letter was dated sixty years earlier and began, "Dear Michael." The beautifully 's written, sadly worded letter ended a romance because of a parents demands. The last line promised, "I will always love you, Michael," and was signed, "Yours, Hannah."
Fine decided to try to track down the owner of the wallet. Using Hannah's address, still legible on the letter, he finally retrieved a telephone number. But when he called it, he was disappointed to learn that Hannah and her family had long ago moved out of the house. The person on the other end of the line, however, knew the name of the nursing home to which Hannah's mother had gone. So Fine called the nursing home and learned that Hannah's mother was no longer living. When he told them what he was trying to do, however, they gave him the address and telephone number they had one file for Hannah. He called the number and found out that Hannah herself now lived in a nursing home. Soon he was able to confirm that,yes, Hannah was a resident there. As soon as he could, Fine decided to visit the nursing home and try to talk with Hannah.
The director met him at the door and told him that Hannah was watching television on the third floor. An escort quickly took Fine there and then left. Fine introduced himself to Hannah and explained how he had found the letter in a wallet. He showed her the letter and asked if she was the one who had written it.
"Yes," Hannah replied, "I sent this letter to Michael because I was only 16 and my mother wouldnt let us see each other anymore. He was very handsome, you know, like Sean Connery." Fine could see both twinkle in her eye and the joy on her face that spoke of her love for Michael. "Yes, Michael Goldstein was his name. If your find him, tell him that I think of him often and never did marry anyone. No one ever matched up to him," she declared, discreetly brushing tears from her eyes. Fine thanked her for her time and left.
As Mr. Fine was leaving the home, the security guard at the door asked him about his visit. "There's a Mike Goldstein who lives here on the eighth floor." Fine turned around and went back inside, this time to the eighth floor, where he asked for Michael Goldstein. When directed to an elderly gentleman, he asked the man, "Have you lost your wallet?"
"Oh, yes, I lost it when I was out for a walk the other day," Michael answered.
Fine handed him the wallet and asked if it was his. Michael was delighted to see it again and, full of gratitude to the finder, proceeded to thank him for returning it when Fine interrupted him.
"I have something to tell you," Fine admitted. "I read the letter in your wallet."
Caught off guard, Michael paused for a moment and then asked, "You read the letter?"
"Yes, sir, and I have further news for you, "Fine continued. "I think I know where Hannah is." Michael grew pale. "You know where she is? How is she?"
"She's fine, and just as pretty as when you knew her."
"Could you tell me where she is? I would love to call her. You know, when that letter came to me, my life ended. I have never gotten married. I never stopped loving her."
"Come with me," said Fine. He took Michael by the elbow and led him to the elevator and down to the third floor. By this time, the director of the building had rejoined them. They came to Hannah's room.
"Hannah," the director whispered, gesturing toward Michael, "Do you know this man?"
She adjusted her glasses and looked at the man as she searched her memory bank. Then with a choked voice, Michael spoke up. "Hannah, its Michael." She stood, as he walked over to her. They embraced and held on to each other for as long as they could stay steady on their feet. They sat down, holding hands, and between their tears they filled in the story of long years that had passed. Feeling as though they had intruded on a sacred moment, Mr. Fine and the director slowly slipped away to leave the two alone to enjoy their reunion.
Three weeks later, Arnold Fine received an invitation to attend the wedding of Hannah, 76, and Michael, 78. Fine closes his story by saying, "How good the work of the Lord is."
"Such a touching story can make one believe that it had to have been made in heaven. But think about it. Made in heaven it could be; the work of a sovereign God leaves all of us overwhelmed at the way God weaves the threads. At the same time, three determined wills all played a role here. A man loved his girl so much that he stayed faithful to her and remained single his whole life because he could not love another woman in this same way. A woman remained true to her first love, thought she had been just a teenager, and she committed to honoring her parents' wishes. A man had resolved to return a wallet because he thought a poignant little letter kept for 60yrs merited a determined search for the owner.
The will is a strong but fragile part of every human life, and it matters in the rich weaving of your tapestry that is in the making."
In September 1985, Readers Digest ran a story titled "Letter in the Wallet," Written by Arnold Fine. Fine tells how one bitterly cold day he stumbled upon a wallet on the street. It had just three dollars in it and a crumpled-up letter that obviously had been carried around for many years. The letter was dated sixty years earlier and began, "Dear Michael." The beautifully 's written, sadly worded letter ended a romance because of a parents demands. The last line promised, "I will always love you, Michael," and was signed, "Yours, Hannah."
Fine decided to try to track down the owner of the wallet. Using Hannah's address, still legible on the letter, he finally retrieved a telephone number. But when he called it, he was disappointed to learn that Hannah and her family had long ago moved out of the house. The person on the other end of the line, however, knew the name of the nursing home to which Hannah's mother had gone. So Fine called the nursing home and learned that Hannah's mother was no longer living. When he told them what he was trying to do, however, they gave him the address and telephone number they had one file for Hannah. He called the number and found out that Hannah herself now lived in a nursing home. Soon he was able to confirm that,yes, Hannah was a resident there. As soon as he could, Fine decided to visit the nursing home and try to talk with Hannah.
The director met him at the door and told him that Hannah was watching television on the third floor. An escort quickly took Fine there and then left. Fine introduced himself to Hannah and explained how he had found the letter in a wallet. He showed her the letter and asked if she was the one who had written it.
"Yes," Hannah replied, "I sent this letter to Michael because I was only 16 and my mother wouldnt let us see each other anymore. He was very handsome, you know, like Sean Connery." Fine could see both twinkle in her eye and the joy on her face that spoke of her love for Michael. "Yes, Michael Goldstein was his name. If your find him, tell him that I think of him often and never did marry anyone. No one ever matched up to him," she declared, discreetly brushing tears from her eyes. Fine thanked her for her time and left.
As Mr. Fine was leaving the home, the security guard at the door asked him about his visit. "There's a Mike Goldstein who lives here on the eighth floor." Fine turned around and went back inside, this time to the eighth floor, where he asked for Michael Goldstein. When directed to an elderly gentleman, he asked the man, "Have you lost your wallet?"
"Oh, yes, I lost it when I was out for a walk the other day," Michael answered.
Fine handed him the wallet and asked if it was his. Michael was delighted to see it again and, full of gratitude to the finder, proceeded to thank him for returning it when Fine interrupted him.
"I have something to tell you," Fine admitted. "I read the letter in your wallet."
Caught off guard, Michael paused for a moment and then asked, "You read the letter?"
"Yes, sir, and I have further news for you, "Fine continued. "I think I know where Hannah is." Michael grew pale. "You know where she is? How is she?"
"She's fine, and just as pretty as when you knew her."
"Could you tell me where she is? I would love to call her. You know, when that letter came to me, my life ended. I have never gotten married. I never stopped loving her."
"Come with me," said Fine. He took Michael by the elbow and led him to the elevator and down to the third floor. By this time, the director of the building had rejoined them. They came to Hannah's room.
"Hannah," the director whispered, gesturing toward Michael, "Do you know this man?"
She adjusted her glasses and looked at the man as she searched her memory bank. Then with a choked voice, Michael spoke up. "Hannah, its Michael." She stood, as he walked over to her. They embraced and held on to each other for as long as they could stay steady on their feet. They sat down, holding hands, and between their tears they filled in the story of long years that had passed. Feeling as though they had intruded on a sacred moment, Mr. Fine and the director slowly slipped away to leave the two alone to enjoy their reunion.
Three weeks later, Arnold Fine received an invitation to attend the wedding of Hannah, 76, and Michael, 78. Fine closes his story by saying, "How good the work of the Lord is."
"Such a touching story can make one believe that it had to have been made in heaven. But think about it. Made in heaven it could be; the work of a sovereign God leaves all of us overwhelmed at the way God weaves the threads. At the same time, three determined wills all played a role here. A man loved his girl so much that he stayed faithful to her and remained single his whole life because he could not love another woman in this same way. A woman remained true to her first love, thought she had been just a teenager, and she committed to honoring her parents' wishes. A man had resolved to return a wallet because he thought a poignant little letter kept for 60yrs merited a determined search for the owner.
The will is a strong but fragile part of every human life, and it matters in the rich weaving of your tapestry that is in the making."
Saturday, October 13, 2007
25"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? 26Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? Matthew 6:25-27
Friday morning I woke up and shoved my Bible into my backpack. I was kind of frustrated because I wanted to have a quite time but knew that with my vast amount of english homework I probably wouldn't have time. World Lit homework usually consists of opening up my colossal World Lit and reading some greek play then writing commentary on it. But friday morning was different. I opened my book up to the assigned pages and realized that we were randomly reading the sermon on the mount. I smiled and laughed while sending up a thankful prayer.
It's so neat how God speaks to me through everything, even the silence.
Tuesday night I went to breakaway and ironically the topic was the sermon on the mount. It's at moments like these that I am at awe how God works. I think sometimes skepticism gets the best of me- I quickly write off these moments as random coincidences- as if things accidentally happen. I think my lack of acknowledgement of these events is a result of a lack of faith. In my heart I can't accept that God is really a personal God. I dont have faith that He really cares about my struggles and that He is in control. Its a never ending lesson.
Friday morning I woke up and shoved my Bible into my backpack. I was kind of frustrated because I wanted to have a quite time but knew that with my vast amount of english homework I probably wouldn't have time. World Lit homework usually consists of opening up my colossal World Lit and reading some greek play then writing commentary on it. But friday morning was different. I opened my book up to the assigned pages and realized that we were randomly reading the sermon on the mount. I smiled and laughed while sending up a thankful prayer.
It's so neat how God speaks to me through everything, even the silence.
Tuesday night I went to breakaway and ironically the topic was the sermon on the mount. It's at moments like these that I am at awe how God works. I think sometimes skepticism gets the best of me- I quickly write off these moments as random coincidences- as if things accidentally happen. I think my lack of acknowledgement of these events is a result of a lack of faith. In my heart I can't accept that God is really a personal God. I dont have faith that He really cares about my struggles and that He is in control. Its a never ending lesson.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
I was once told that genius isnt the ability to answer questions as much as it is to create new questions. Not solving the basic "why" questions but being able to create something that makes you perceive the "whys" in a new light. But how can anything truly be original? Isnt every action and every thought the reaction to something already known?
Purely the composition of reactions- feelings which are simply feelings -thoughts which are simply thoughts- and nothing more. The cold face of "behaviorism" has awakened itself upon humans leaving us with ugly and empty answers.
While some believe that "souls" are incorporated into these hollow vessels- others see it as nothing but simply a bundle of perceptions, thoughts, memories, and emotions connected together to form answers.
We just react- to something we perceive to be as "new"- but in its very definition it has tricked us. That is which unknown will remain unknown unless it decides to reveal and devalue itself. But then- then it is touchable- then it is thinkable- then it is mediocre. We innately desire the answer the "whys" because we desire to answer the universals with the particulars. We analyze every inch of our surrounding and think that it will answer our big questions. But the only clue our reality gives us is that more does exist- and that even our surrounding will be unexplainable.
Ah, the greatest paradox. How can we know anything about the unknown? How do we truly discover something that we will never to sure of? If originality and the unknown are equated then we are surrounded with genius but who is to claim that they are actually created something "original." They have reached- they have grasped- into the the shadowy abyss of "thought" and formed "nothing"
Purely the composition of reactions- feelings which are simply feelings -thoughts which are simply thoughts- and nothing more. The cold face of "behaviorism" has awakened itself upon humans leaving us with ugly and empty answers.
While some believe that "souls" are incorporated into these hollow vessels- others see it as nothing but simply a bundle of perceptions, thoughts, memories, and emotions connected together to form answers.
We just react- to something we perceive to be as "new"- but in its very definition it has tricked us. That is which unknown will remain unknown unless it decides to reveal and devalue itself. But then- then it is touchable- then it is thinkable- then it is mediocre. We innately desire the answer the "whys" because we desire to answer the universals with the particulars. We analyze every inch of our surrounding and think that it will answer our big questions. But the only clue our reality gives us is that more does exist- and that even our surrounding will be unexplainable.
Ah, the greatest paradox. How can we know anything about the unknown? How do we truly discover something that we will never to sure of? If originality and the unknown are equated then we are surrounded with genius but who is to claim that they are actually created something "original." They have reached- they have grasped- into the the shadowy abyss of "thought" and formed "nothing"
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