30 December 2008
23 December 2008
Not entirely fair to make so many posts in one day, but I did want to say that this weekend parcels from Emmaline and Catherine and an amazing card from the Wilsons arrived. Very happy times. Laura was delighted with the Percy Pigs, and I sat on my bed and laughed for ages over the ridiculous cow card.
Laura and I decorated the house this morning. We listened to The Nutcracker, which seemed appropriate. We unpacked the most battered cardboard boxes ever, which live on the top shelf in the laundry room and are mostly full of newspaper with a few ornaments thrown in for good measure. Yards and yards of brown packing tape crumbling from their battered corners. A lot of the decorations are fairly ancient. While Laura put knicknacks and odds-and-ends on the living room bookshelves (the traditional wooden jigsaw puzzle beasties, a tiny tree with colorful lights, Noel Christmas holders in the shape of a train), I tried to hang the big wreath over the dining room door, resulting in a quarter-inch splinter in my finger. When the wreath was finally hung, Laura chose ornaments to go on it. The result doesn't look too bad, though in the process I dropped a green glass ball, which smashed all over the dining room floor. My mother remarked calmly that she'd always wanted to know what happened when one of those broke, and swept up the sherds silently.
Laura and I decorated the house this morning. We listened to The Nutcracker, which seemed appropriate. We unpacked the most battered cardboard boxes ever, which live on the top shelf in the laundry room and are mostly full of newspaper with a few ornaments thrown in for good measure. Yards and yards of brown packing tape crumbling from their battered corners. A lot of the decorations are fairly ancient. While Laura put knicknacks and odds-and-ends on the living room bookshelves (the traditional wooden jigsaw puzzle beasties, a tiny tree with colorful lights, Noel Christmas holders in the shape of a train), I tried to hang the big wreath over the dining room door, resulting in a quarter-inch splinter in my finger. When the wreath was finally hung, Laura chose ornaments to go on it. The result doesn't look too bad, though in the process I dropped a green glass ball, which smashed all over the dining room floor. My mother remarked calmly that she'd always wanted to know what happened when one of those broke, and swept up the sherds silently.
Now Playing: "Age of Empires" on the boys' computers upstairs.
An account of the Ponca City Christmas ball. (Yes, Emmaline, we danced the Waves of Tory at both dances, and it was AMAZING! :o) No Strip the Willow, though the Virginia Reel is very similar.)
19 December 2008. Slept well and woke at about half nine. The basement bedroom is dark, of course, at the bottom of the Colles’ huge mazelike house with all of its random oddments from far-away countries (mostly Asian), and its warm Christmas decorations on the main levels, poinsettias, red and gold. Mrs. Colle knocked on the door to say that breakfast was ready. Syneva, Stefni, and Rachael had already left to start decorating the hall, but Alyson, Philip, Grant, and I ate at the table in the kitchen, delicious blueberry waffles, hot off the griddle.
We packed the cars with more decorations and drove out to assist with the decorating process at about half ten. The hall is a “memorial”, built in the 1970s, across the street from the highschool on the other side ofPonca City
We spent all morning there. All the wee things that had to be done were done very slowly: there seemed to be a lot of bustling about nothing, flicking, twisting, plugging in, moving about, arranging, rearranging, but all with a happy spirit. When the sound system was hooked up to Syneva’s laptop, the riotous Mannheim Steamroller song for the Grand March came on, and I couldn’t help dancing the two-hand by myself. Syneva thought aloud to Rachael and me, trying to figure out a better way to dance the Grand March. We unpacked more ornaments, wrapped more presents….
Stefni, Rachael, Jacob, Josiah, and I went back to the Colles’ house at about one o’clock to bake pizza for lunch. Stefni and Rachael didn’t need much help, so I settled down in the living room with my laptop to write up yesterday’s journal entry, and when the others returned, they collected nearby. Syneva flopped down on the sofa beside me, and we talked about our plans for next year, going to theU.K.
Philip, Alyson, Grant, and I spent the afternoon icing cookies, batch after batch of sugar cookies, as Rachael cut them out of the dough and baked them. While Alyson edged each cookie in thick white icing, the three of us slathered on runnier colored icing that filled in the outline. Grant was careful to make each cookie rather wild. It was a fun time. Someone had turned on orchestral Christmas music on the speaker system in the living room, and we worked away while Syneva and Stefni bustled around us, preparing other foodstuffs and sewing last minute repairs on dresses before the ball. When tea was ready, at about five o’clock, I took a plate of rice and meatballs up to Stefni’s room and sat on the floor, watching while Stefni painted glamorous blue-and-silver swirls and sequins on Syneva’s face.
After I ate, I ran downstairs to get ready with Alyson, the two of us doing our hair and makeup in the bathroom together, then going into separate rooms to wiggle into our dresses. Everything was all a-flutter. The Colle guys were, of course, ready first, and left with Syneva and Stefni to add final touches to the hall before people arrived. Just as Alyson and I arrived upstairs, we found a deputation fromTulsa
We were among the first to arrive, wandering a little uncertainly into the concert hall. The overhead lights were dimmed so that the icicle lights on the railings and around the stage, and the Christmas tree on the stage and the deer in the corners, glowed brilliantly. For awhile everyone stood around talking awkwardly. At last, Syneva took the mic and corralled everyone into couples. Stephen asked me to dance, so we all lined up for the Grand March: about sixty couples crowding in the entry area just outside the hall with Syneva and Jacob, the older of her two brothers, at the head. As the lively music struck up, we marched into the hall, following them.
When the music ended, we applauded, standing again in a great circle. Mr. Colle then stepped out, welcomed everyone, and introduced the callers, Syneva, Stefni, and Amanda, and the evening began. We danced through all the dances in succession, with short breaks between every two or three: Scottish Wheel, Virginia Reel, Emma Dance, Mr. Darcy Dance, Waves of Tory, Fairfield Fancy, Spanish Waltz (which rather fell apart while Stefni was calling because the music had some extreme rubato), Dashing White Sergeant (which I danced with P and Alyson, as we’d done at the practice last night), and finally the Posties. The guys who know the dance make Postease into a competition. Philip asked me to be his partner with a ridiculous grin on his face, as he freely acknowledge, so that he could throw me around. He, Matt, and Luke formed a set with another couple, and the dance began. When he heard the music, Matt rolled his eyes, for the pace was absolutely wild. The dance became a race, a competition, a merry free-for-all, with everyone laughing and gasping and twirling and galloping over and under. I was laughing so hard that I was out-of-breath, never mind the fast pace of the dance.
When it ended, everyone was hot, sweaty, and grinning. I stepped outside to cool off in the baltic breeze. Clouds had come over the sky. Back in the warm hall, everyone was taking a half-hour break, eating, drinking, snapping pictures. After the break, the dances began again, and so it went. We danced through all of them (except the Spanish Waltz). People began to leave. I sat up in the chairs, watching the dances and taking pictures: the more I danced, the more blisters formed on my feet.
The last dance of the evening, by request, was the Emma Dance. I had been sitting up in the seats, half-dozing with exhaustion, half-laughing at the last set of Posties, when Matt came up and joined me. He invited me to dance with him, so I did, which was pleasant. We finished the evening as we always do, standing in one great circle, hands joined, singing the Benediction, with applause to follow. Of course people stayed afterward. More photographs, more eating of cookies. RUF picture, saying good-bye to Alisha and Stephen before they returned to Tulsa with DMac, listening to Matt tell teacher horror stories to Rachael, saying good-night to Amanda, and so forth. Someone asked for the music to be turned back on so that another set of Posties could be danced, but Alyson and I both had excruciatingly sore feet, so Philip and Grant drove us back to the Colles’ house.
Alyson and I immediately ducked downstairs to change into comfortable pajamas. Rachael joined us, and we talked about Nickel Creek happily. Back upstairs, I was just getting ready to serve the hot wassail, as instructed by Syneva, when the Colles all came trooping in the back door. After a good deal of bustle and laughter and unpacking of food, we all ended up sitting comfortably in the living room with cups of hot wassail (hot apple and cranberry juice boiled with an orange, cloves, and allspice), cookies, grapes, and cheese and crackers. The whole Colle family (except Josiah, who fell asleep on the floor in the corner), Grant, Matt, Rachael, Philip, Alyson, and me. For some reason we talked about serious things at first, about how the dance had gone, about Syneva’s plans for next year, and so forth, until Syneva joked about how it seemed impossible for us to be silly.
At that point people began to try to tell jokes, which became quite amusing. Matt: “What is black and dangerous and sits in a tree? A crow with a machine gun!” and so on. Some very bad jokes and puns were made over the course of the evening. P began to doze. Mr. Colle went to bed. Syneva took me upstairs to the boys’ room and showed me the incredible map of Middle Earth that she and her brothers had painted during the last week of summer: on one wall, the whole map, and on the other three walls, close-ups, very impressive. We sat around and talked for awhile, the conversation slowly degenerating until at about one o’clock in the morning we all decided to go to bed.
An account of the Ponca City Christmas ball. (Yes, Emmaline, we danced the Waves of Tory at both dances, and it was AMAZING! :o) No Strip the Willow, though the Virginia Reel is very similar.)
19 December 2008. Slept well and woke at about half nine. The basement bedroom is dark, of course, at the bottom of the Colles’ huge mazelike house with all of its random oddments from far-away countries (mostly Asian), and its warm Christmas decorations on the main levels, poinsettias, red and gold. Mrs. Colle knocked on the door to say that breakfast was ready. Syneva, Stefni, and Rachael had already left to start decorating the hall, but Alyson, Philip, Grant, and I ate at the table in the kitchen, delicious blueberry waffles, hot off the griddle.
We packed the cars with more decorations and drove out to assist with the decorating process at about half ten. The hall is a “memorial”, built in the 1970s, across the street from the highschool on the other side of
We spent all morning there. All the wee things that had to be done were done very slowly: there seemed to be a lot of bustling about nothing, flicking, twisting, plugging in, moving about, arranging, rearranging, but all with a happy spirit. When the sound system was hooked up to Syneva’s laptop, the riotous Mannheim Steamroller song for the Grand March came on, and I couldn’t help dancing the two-hand by myself. Syneva thought aloud to Rachael and me, trying to figure out a better way to dance the Grand March. We unpacked more ornaments, wrapped more presents….
Stefni, Rachael, Jacob, Josiah, and I went back to the Colles’ house at about one o’clock to bake pizza for lunch. Stefni and Rachael didn’t need much help, so I settled down in the living room with my laptop to write up yesterday’s journal entry, and when the others returned, they collected nearby. Syneva flopped down on the sofa beside me, and we talked about our plans for next year, going to the
Philip, Alyson, Grant, and I spent the afternoon icing cookies, batch after batch of sugar cookies, as Rachael cut them out of the dough and baked them. While Alyson edged each cookie in thick white icing, the three of us slathered on runnier colored icing that filled in the outline. Grant was careful to make each cookie rather wild. It was a fun time. Someone had turned on orchestral Christmas music on the speaker system in the living room, and we worked away while Syneva and Stefni bustled around us, preparing other foodstuffs and sewing last minute repairs on dresses before the ball. When tea was ready, at about five o’clock, I took a plate of rice and meatballs up to Stefni’s room and sat on the floor, watching while Stefni painted glamorous blue-and-silver swirls and sequins on Syneva’s face.
After I ate, I ran downstairs to get ready with Alyson, the two of us doing our hair and makeup in the bathroom together, then going into separate rooms to wiggle into our dresses. Everything was all a-flutter. The Colle guys were, of course, ready first, and left with Syneva and Stefni to add final touches to the hall before people arrived. Just as Alyson and I arrived upstairs, we found a deputation from
We were among the first to arrive, wandering a little uncertainly into the concert hall. The overhead lights were dimmed so that the icicle lights on the railings and around the stage, and the Christmas tree on the stage and the deer in the corners, glowed brilliantly. For awhile everyone stood around talking awkwardly. At last, Syneva took the mic and corralled everyone into couples. Stephen asked me to dance, so we all lined up for the Grand March: about sixty couples crowding in the entry area just outside the hall with Syneva and Jacob, the older of her two brothers, at the head. As the lively music struck up, we marched into the hall, following them.
When the music ended, we applauded, standing again in a great circle. Mr. Colle then stepped out, welcomed everyone, and introduced the callers, Syneva, Stefni, and Amanda, and the evening began. We danced through all the dances in succession, with short breaks between every two or three: Scottish Wheel, Virginia Reel, Emma Dance, Mr. Darcy Dance, Waves of Tory, Fairfield Fancy, Spanish Waltz (which rather fell apart while Stefni was calling because the music had some extreme rubato), Dashing White Sergeant (which I danced with P and Alyson, as we’d done at the practice last night), and finally the Posties. The guys who know the dance make Postease into a competition. Philip asked me to be his partner with a ridiculous grin on his face, as he freely acknowledge, so that he could throw me around. He, Matt, and Luke formed a set with another couple, and the dance began. When he heard the music, Matt rolled his eyes, for the pace was absolutely wild. The dance became a race, a competition, a merry free-for-all, with everyone laughing and gasping and twirling and galloping over and under. I was laughing so hard that I was out-of-breath, never mind the fast pace of the dance.
When it ended, everyone was hot, sweaty, and grinning. I stepped outside to cool off in the baltic breeze. Clouds had come over the sky. Back in the warm hall, everyone was taking a half-hour break, eating, drinking, snapping pictures. After the break, the dances began again, and so it went. We danced through all of them (except the Spanish Waltz). People began to leave. I sat up in the chairs, watching the dances and taking pictures: the more I danced, the more blisters formed on my feet.
The last dance of the evening, by request, was the Emma Dance. I had been sitting up in the seats, half-dozing with exhaustion, half-laughing at the last set of Posties, when Matt came up and joined me. He invited me to dance with him, so I did, which was pleasant. We finished the evening as we always do, standing in one great circle, hands joined, singing the Benediction, with applause to follow. Of course people stayed afterward. More photographs, more eating of cookies. RUF picture, saying good-bye to Alisha and Stephen before they returned to Tulsa with DMac, listening to Matt tell teacher horror stories to Rachael, saying good-night to Amanda, and so forth. Someone asked for the music to be turned back on so that another set of Posties could be danced, but Alyson and I both had excruciatingly sore feet, so Philip and Grant drove us back to the Colles’ house.
Alyson and I immediately ducked downstairs to change into comfortable pajamas. Rachael joined us, and we talked about Nickel Creek happily. Back upstairs, I was just getting ready to serve the hot wassail, as instructed by Syneva, when the Colles all came trooping in the back door. After a good deal of bustle and laughter and unpacking of food, we all ended up sitting comfortably in the living room with cups of hot wassail (hot apple and cranberry juice boiled with an orange, cloves, and allspice), cookies, grapes, and cheese and crackers. The whole Colle family (except Josiah, who fell asleep on the floor in the corner), Grant, Matt, Rachael, Philip, Alyson, and me. For some reason we talked about serious things at first, about how the dance had gone, about Syneva’s plans for next year, and so forth, until Syneva joked about how it seemed impossible for us to be silly.
At that point people began to try to tell jokes, which became quite amusing. Matt: “What is black and dangerous and sits in a tree? A crow with a machine gun!” and so on. Some very bad jokes and puns were made over the course of the evening. P began to doze. Mr. Colle went to bed. Syneva took me upstairs to the boys’ room and showed me the incredible map of Middle Earth that she and her brothers had painted during the last week of summer: on one wall, the whole map, and on the other three walls, close-ups, very impressive. We sat around and talked for awhile, the conversation slowly degenerating until at about one o’clock in the morning we all decided to go to bed.
Now Playing: Star Wars V on the VCR. Laura and my mother are giving Angie, the Chinese exchange student who lives next door, an introduction to American culture.
I thought it would be appropriate, considering the season, to think about the names of Christ in Isaiah 23. He is the Wonderful Counselor. Whenever I read that phrase in Isaiah, it puzzles me: I don't think of counselors as being particularly wonderful. What does it mean to be a "wonderful counselor"? In common parlance, "wonderful" would just be "good", someone who gives excellent advice. Aside from its everyday connotations, though, the word carries the idea of amazement, surprise, delight. So Christ is our counselor who is directing us to glory, a glory beyond imagination. His wisdom goes beyond our expectations; He leads us through things for purposes that we cannot understand but that will result in surprise and delight. His guidance is infallible, even if at the moment it does not seem to work out very well. I can trust that whatever direction He gives me is right and will be worked out by Him for glory.
The name Mighty God emphasizes His authority to carry out His counsels. If He were just to guide His people with His wisdom and to plan history through His insight, but not to have the authority to carry out those plans, His wisdom would be diminished. However, as God He has the power and sovereignty to accomplish His plans. When His guidance of me appears to work out to be dark and difficult, or even to have resulted in sin because of my foolishness, there is still room for hope because of His power as God to direct and accomplish everything by His will.
If Christ were merely Mighty God, He would be distant, terrifying, separated from us. Since the Godhead is Everlasting Father, though, His wisdom and sovereignty are carried out in love. As our Father, He knows our needs, our weaknesses, our abilities. As our Father, He provides the gifts we require to live for His glory. As our Father, He disciplines us, in His wisdom teaching and training our faith. We have freedom before Him, though He is the Mighty God, though He is the all-knowing Counselor, to pray to Him, to grieve before Him, to rejoice before Him.
My favorite of all Christ's names is His title, Prince of Peace. The name rolls off the tongue (lovely English translation alliteration). It's easy to say without thinking, to cling to without understanding what exactly it means. I was trying to puzzle out Christ's office as Prince of Peace and so started to think about other titles. Ideally, I suppose, the Prince of somewhere rules over that place and controls it. He is in charge of its affairs, of the goods it produces, of the welfare of its people. Christ rules peace. In order to have peace, He is the authority to whom I must turn, for He is the owner of it, the controller of it. He is in charge of giving peace. On the other hand, though, a prince is someone who hasn't reached maturity yet, someone who is waiting to be crowned, the ascendant to the throne. His rule is not yet complete. So Christ, though He is our Prince of Peace, though He has made full peace between His people and God, in some sense lacks His full glory. In Heaven His office as peacemaker will be fully displayed, for there we will enjoy to the greatest extent the benefits of His peacemaking. On earth we can taste it as we go about our daily lives, but in Heaven He will be King of Peace, His glory fully and completely revealed.
I love the fact that Christ not only makes peace between us and God but between us and ourselves, between us and other people, between us and our circumstances. Looking back on the year as it's gone by, I'm amazed at His faithfulness to protect my faith despite all the skyrockets of joy and depths of sin and sorrow the year has brought. Salvation always comes eventually, even if it's not when I expect, and with salvation, peace. Rest in the knowledge that my sins are completely forgiven; rest in the knowledge that broken relationships are being healed; rest in the knowledge that the confusion of this season of life will be resolved and is being resolved with every passing moment. Beyond that, though, delight: Someday all of this will be dissolved in the glory of His revealed Kingship and the arrival of peace that cannot be disturbed by sin or confusion any more.
May a taste of that peace be with His people now and always.
I thought it would be appropriate, considering the season, to think about the names of Christ in Isaiah 23. He is the Wonderful Counselor. Whenever I read that phrase in Isaiah, it puzzles me: I don't think of counselors as being particularly wonderful. What does it mean to be a "wonderful counselor"? In common parlance, "wonderful" would just be "good", someone who gives excellent advice. Aside from its everyday connotations, though, the word carries the idea of amazement, surprise, delight. So Christ is our counselor who is directing us to glory, a glory beyond imagination. His wisdom goes beyond our expectations; He leads us through things for purposes that we cannot understand but that will result in surprise and delight. His guidance is infallible, even if at the moment it does not seem to work out very well. I can trust that whatever direction He gives me is right and will be worked out by Him for glory.
The name Mighty God emphasizes His authority to carry out His counsels. If He were just to guide His people with His wisdom and to plan history through His insight, but not to have the authority to carry out those plans, His wisdom would be diminished. However, as God He has the power and sovereignty to accomplish His plans. When His guidance of me appears to work out to be dark and difficult, or even to have resulted in sin because of my foolishness, there is still room for hope because of His power as God to direct and accomplish everything by His will.
If Christ were merely Mighty God, He would be distant, terrifying, separated from us. Since the Godhead is Everlasting Father, though, His wisdom and sovereignty are carried out in love. As our Father, He knows our needs, our weaknesses, our abilities. As our Father, He provides the gifts we require to live for His glory. As our Father, He disciplines us, in His wisdom teaching and training our faith. We have freedom before Him, though He is the Mighty God, though He is the all-knowing Counselor, to pray to Him, to grieve before Him, to rejoice before Him.
My favorite of all Christ's names is His title, Prince of Peace. The name rolls off the tongue (lovely English translation alliteration). It's easy to say without thinking, to cling to without understanding what exactly it means. I was trying to puzzle out Christ's office as Prince of Peace and so started to think about other titles. Ideally, I suppose, the Prince of somewhere rules over that place and controls it. He is in charge of its affairs, of the goods it produces, of the welfare of its people. Christ rules peace. In order to have peace, He is the authority to whom I must turn, for He is the owner of it, the controller of it. He is in charge of giving peace. On the other hand, though, a prince is someone who hasn't reached maturity yet, someone who is waiting to be crowned, the ascendant to the throne. His rule is not yet complete. So Christ, though He is our Prince of Peace, though He has made full peace between His people and God, in some sense lacks His full glory. In Heaven His office as peacemaker will be fully displayed, for there we will enjoy to the greatest extent the benefits of His peacemaking. On earth we can taste it as we go about our daily lives, but in Heaven He will be King of Peace, His glory fully and completely revealed.
I love the fact that Christ not only makes peace between us and God but between us and ourselves, between us and other people, between us and our circumstances. Looking back on the year as it's gone by, I'm amazed at His faithfulness to protect my faith despite all the skyrockets of joy and depths of sin and sorrow the year has brought. Salvation always comes eventually, even if it's not when I expect, and with salvation, peace. Rest in the knowledge that my sins are completely forgiven; rest in the knowledge that broken relationships are being healed; rest in the knowledge that the confusion of this season of life will be resolved and is being resolved with every passing moment. Beyond that, though, delight: Someday all of this will be dissolved in the glory of His revealed Kingship and the arrival of peace that cannot be disturbed by sin or confusion any more.
May a taste of that peace be with His people now and always.
22 December 2008
16 December 2008
Now Playing: The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring soundtrack by Howard Shore
Last night Nicole and I watched Silence of the Lambs together, probably one of the first R rated films I've seen. I closed my eyes or didn't look at the screen through about a third of it because of the gore: at times the screen resembled something far worse than a medical dissecting room. The language was as might be expected in an R rated film, and all in all I had a rather hard night sleeping.
At the same time, though, the film had one redeeming quality: it depicted, in all of its brutality and hideousness, the depravity the human soul is capable of containing. On Sabbath day I just finished listening to a series of four sermons by Pastor Donnelly about Hell. Not the most cheerful topic in the world, but watching this film after hearing those sermons answered, to some degree, the question as to why God would permit such a horrible place as Hell to exist. If this is the degree of evil of which all human beings are capable, then it is no wonder that God in His perfect beauty, justice, and holiness would be righteous in condemning forever such souls to the torment they have devised for themselves. Truly none of us are worthy to stand before Him.
Providentially, this morning I read Psalm 53 in my quiet time. Once again, I was struck by the pervasiveness of evil in all human beings. If in films and culture we are capable of realizing our own sinfulness to the degree emphasized in Silence of the Lambs, how much more must God Himself, who sees our sin both from a perspective of complete omniscience, so He knows just how far it extends, and also from a perspective of complete purity, which makes it even more disgusting in His sight. Desensitized by the violence we think even more than by the violence we see, our sense of sin cannot be as precise as His.
This makes Christ's work as a whole, particularly His death, even more incredible. One of Pastor Donnelly's points in his concluding sermon was to this effect when it comes to Hell. Hell ought to make us appreciate Christ's work even more, for He took Hell into Himself on the cross, experiencing the anger of God, the degradation of His personality physically and spiritually, the separation from all goodness and grace, that we as sinners deserve. The power of Christ, able to bear this eternal burning hatred against not only one person but against all His people, and then to rise again, shining, not corrupted but even more glorious, is incredible. His value, His beauty, His strength and glory....
Watching this film also makes His life more amazing. It is a wonder to me that He was willing to descend into a world so dark, to be surrounded by creatures in whom the potential for evil was so intensely dangerous, and to love those creatures with such power and intensity. I do not understand how a Being so beautiful, so holy, so perfect could be willing to make His home among creatures whose external sin might not have been fully developed to the point of perversion and murder but whose internal sins were certainly far more horrible to Him.
But such is His glory and grace.
It may seem very easy for me to write all of this sitting comfortably in 15th Steet Coffee Shop with a cup of Earl Grey and a raspberry bar for company, but glancing around me at the other human beings in the shop is a sober reality check. That under the serene faces and quite normalcy lurks this amount of evil reminds me just how blessed we are by His restraining grace, and how much more by the grace of His redemption so that beyond the comparative peace of a December afternoon there is hope for a fullness of joy glorious beyond imagination.
He is truly worthy of praise forever and ever.
Last night Nicole and I watched Silence of the Lambs together, probably one of the first R rated films I've seen. I closed my eyes or didn't look at the screen through about a third of it because of the gore: at times the screen resembled something far worse than a medical dissecting room. The language was as might be expected in an R rated film, and all in all I had a rather hard night sleeping.
At the same time, though, the film had one redeeming quality: it depicted, in all of its brutality and hideousness, the depravity the human soul is capable of containing. On Sabbath day I just finished listening to a series of four sermons by Pastor Donnelly about Hell. Not the most cheerful topic in the world, but watching this film after hearing those sermons answered, to some degree, the question as to why God would permit such a horrible place as Hell to exist. If this is the degree of evil of which all human beings are capable, then it is no wonder that God in His perfect beauty, justice, and holiness would be righteous in condemning forever such souls to the torment they have devised for themselves. Truly none of us are worthy to stand before Him.
Providentially, this morning I read Psalm 53 in my quiet time. Once again, I was struck by the pervasiveness of evil in all human beings. If in films and culture we are capable of realizing our own sinfulness to the degree emphasized in Silence of the Lambs, how much more must God Himself, who sees our sin both from a perspective of complete omniscience, so He knows just how far it extends, and also from a perspective of complete purity, which makes it even more disgusting in His sight. Desensitized by the violence we think even more than by the violence we see, our sense of sin cannot be as precise as His.
This makes Christ's work as a whole, particularly His death, even more incredible. One of Pastor Donnelly's points in his concluding sermon was to this effect when it comes to Hell. Hell ought to make us appreciate Christ's work even more, for He took Hell into Himself on the cross, experiencing the anger of God, the degradation of His personality physically and spiritually, the separation from all goodness and grace, that we as sinners deserve. The power of Christ, able to bear this eternal burning hatred against not only one person but against all His people, and then to rise again, shining, not corrupted but even more glorious, is incredible. His value, His beauty, His strength and glory....
Watching this film also makes His life more amazing. It is a wonder to me that He was willing to descend into a world so dark, to be surrounded by creatures in whom the potential for evil was so intensely dangerous, and to love those creatures with such power and intensity. I do not understand how a Being so beautiful, so holy, so perfect could be willing to make His home among creatures whose external sin might not have been fully developed to the point of perversion and murder but whose internal sins were certainly far more horrible to Him.
But such is His glory and grace.
It may seem very easy for me to write all of this sitting comfortably in 15th Steet Coffee Shop with a cup of Earl Grey and a raspberry bar for company, but glancing around me at the other human beings in the shop is a sober reality check. That under the serene faces and quite normalcy lurks this amount of evil reminds me just how blessed we are by His restraining grace, and how much more by the grace of His redemption so that beyond the comparative peace of a December afternoon there is hope for a fullness of joy glorious beyond imagination.
He is truly worthy of praise forever and ever.
15 December 2008
True to form, last week of finals: IT SNOWED!
Not what you could genuinely call snow, more like a nasty mixture of ice and sleet, but it's beautifully white on the roofs of the other flats. The grass on the new U is still green, which creates a rather lovely contrast with the white buildings and white... precipitation.
And it's 25 degrees here (roughly -8 Centigrade), so the walk to the gym this morning to run was not particularly enjoyable to say the least. My nose was frozen off.
Not what you could genuinely call snow, more like a nasty mixture of ice and sleet, but it's beautifully white on the roofs of the other flats. The grass on the new U is still green, which creates a rather lovely contrast with the white buildings and white... precipitation.
And it's 25 degrees here (roughly -8 Centigrade), so the walk to the gym this morning to run was not particularly enjoyable to say the least. My nose was frozen off.
13 December 2008
Now Playing: Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky, "The Nutcracker", Act I, Scene I, "March".
Tonight Rachel Sr., Crystal, Jenny M., and I went to see The Nutcracker at the Tulsa Performing Arts Centre. Quite a lovely production, though not entirely traditional: they had changed the storyline significantly and cut out a couple of the dances. Nonetheless, it was a lovely production. It was set in 1920s France, and the two main sets were the Opera Garnier and the mirror room at Versailles, both of which made me delighted thanks to last Christmas's happiness. The costumes were lovely, particularly for the girls, of course--long 1920s-style dresses and simple sparkling tiaras, sometimes with single feathers in them, very elegant.
The music for this work is so full of joy that had it been a performance simply of the music alone I would have been happy. Gorgeous lush harp runs in Act 2 in particular. The dancing was elegant, serene, courteous, gracious, full of spectacular lifts and leaps, which seemed to be the strong point of the company.
There was, however, somehow a slight disjunct between the dancing and the music, something that didn't quite mesh properly. Jenny and I agreed that a purely traditional performance would be satisfying to see someday.
It's so windy here. Think Causeway Coast from January to March. The wind thrums in the walls and the floor (our apartment is on the third storey) and rattles in a piece of loose gutter and shakes the windows.
Almost finished with finals. All I have left is an Honors essay and a take-home exam for Philosophy of Art. The Honors paper is as good as done, and the take-home will be finished by Monday at teatime.
Tonight Rachel Sr., Crystal, Jenny M., and I went to see The Nutcracker at the Tulsa Performing Arts Centre. Quite a lovely production, though not entirely traditional: they had changed the storyline significantly and cut out a couple of the dances. Nonetheless, it was a lovely production. It was set in 1920s France, and the two main sets were the Opera Garnier and the mirror room at Versailles, both of which made me delighted thanks to last Christmas's happiness. The costumes were lovely, particularly for the girls, of course--long 1920s-style dresses and simple sparkling tiaras, sometimes with single feathers in them, very elegant.
The music for this work is so full of joy that had it been a performance simply of the music alone I would have been happy. Gorgeous lush harp runs in Act 2 in particular. The dancing was elegant, serene, courteous, gracious, full of spectacular lifts and leaps, which seemed to be the strong point of the company.
There was, however, somehow a slight disjunct between the dancing and the music, something that didn't quite mesh properly. Jenny and I agreed that a purely traditional performance would be satisfying to see someday.
It's so windy here. Think Causeway Coast from January to March. The wind thrums in the walls and the floor (our apartment is on the third storey) and rattles in a piece of loose gutter and shakes the windows.
Almost finished with finals. All I have left is an Honors essay and a take-home exam for Philosophy of Art. The Honors paper is as good as done, and the take-home will be finished by Monday at teatime.
07 December 2008
Now Playing: New Song, "Psalms For the King of Glory", Track 6, "I Cried With My Whole Heart: Psalm 119".
Click here to see pictures from the RUF dance last night.
Click here to see pictures from the RUF dance last night.
05 December 2008
Now Playing: Sufjan Stevens, "Illinoise".
This has been a week of firsts, thanks to Nicole and Rachel Jr. Nicole taught me on Wednesday night after we ate tea in The Hut how to play pool, at which I was laughably bad. On Thursday night, Nicole and Rachel attempted to teach me how to play gin, which I might understand, and rummy, which I almost certainly do not understand, and together they introduced me to the wonders of Freckles frozen custard.
Tonight Tara, Amanda, Rachel Sr., and I watched Get Smart. Popcorn film, ridiculous and (if I may say so) extremely silly. The level of innuendo was rather more than my Victorian sensibilities could handle, but the mockery of James Bond was hilarious.
Almost finished with my senior project, I discovered to my dismay today that my advisor has been ill all week, so she has been completely unable to look over the draft I sent her a couple of weeks ago. I suppose I'll just have to turn it in on Monday and hope that it is acceptable.
The RUF Christmas ball is tomorrow night. Most people in RUF only know how to swing dance, but a few people like to dance English country/Irish dances, so I may be attempting to teach the Waves of Tory and Strip the Willow tomorrow, if I can find music for the dances. Nickel Creek and Flook will help most likely.
High time for some sleep now.
This has been a week of firsts, thanks to Nicole and Rachel Jr. Nicole taught me on Wednesday night after we ate tea in The Hut how to play pool, at which I was laughably bad. On Thursday night, Nicole and Rachel attempted to teach me how to play gin, which I might understand, and rummy, which I almost certainly do not understand, and together they introduced me to the wonders of Freckles frozen custard.
Tonight Tara, Amanda, Rachel Sr., and I watched Get Smart. Popcorn film, ridiculous and (if I may say so) extremely silly. The level of innuendo was rather more than my Victorian sensibilities could handle, but the mockery of James Bond was hilarious.
Almost finished with my senior project, I discovered to my dismay today that my advisor has been ill all week, so she has been completely unable to look over the draft I sent her a couple of weeks ago. I suppose I'll just have to turn it in on Monday and hope that it is acceptable.
The RUF Christmas ball is tomorrow night. Most people in RUF only know how to swing dance, but a few people like to dance English country/Irish dances, so I may be attempting to teach the Waves of Tory and Strip the Willow tomorrow, if I can find music for the dances. Nickel Creek and Flook will help most likely.
High time for some sleep now.
02 December 2008
Now Playing: The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers soundtrack by Howard Shore, Track 19, "Gollum's Song".
How sad, no white rabbits for me this month.
Was just looking at pictures from the "football dinner" last spring. Two conclusions: Cultural differences make me want to laugh for the awkwardness, and Heaven is going to be wonderful.
I hope it snows tomorrow, just for the fun of it.
How sad, no white rabbits for me this month.
Was just looking at pictures from the "football dinner" last spring. Two conclusions: Cultural differences make me want to laugh for the awkwardness, and Heaven is going to be wonderful.
I hope it snows tomorrow, just for the fun of it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)