There's something that's just occurred to me over the past few months about one of the many oddities of people. I don't think there is one person, who if they gave it much thought, wouldn't agree that humans are very unique, individualistic (though many claim not to be everyone wants to be the only one of themselves, and they are), and very odd. I cannot speak for other cultures, (so Laura, if you read this maybe you can help me!) but in America at least before the rampant spread of the internet, boys and girls would very commonly keep journals and diaries. Many still do. Now, though the contents of the diary can be contested (they could hold anything from everyday occurrences to your most sacred thoughts), it is generally accepted that whatever it held, they were your private thoughts intended to be known only to you and the Almighty (and occasionally your little brother of sister that wanted to know who you liked so they stole it).
That said, I find it terribly odd that now through websites like facebook, myspace, and our blogs we openly share our thoughts, troubles, poetry, prose, ramblings, disappointments, and joys. Now, I'm not condemning nor condoning either practice; the lock and key of the diary, or the publishing for the world to read. I just find it very odd, and am unsure of what to attribute this dynamic shift in thought and practice to. Are we simply more mature creatures who obviously didn't know what we were doing as children? Is the idea of a blog so impersonal that we don't think it matters what we write? Have our lives become so busy and are we so yearning for friendships that we write in hopes of filling our desperate need for attention and companionship? Was it simply a stage of life? I think we well understood the idea of a diary as children, heck, that's why we locked it! I think as adults we understand that what we post is important, if to no one else, than simply to us, the reason we post! No doubt our lives are busy, but most certainly not too busy, for we've found time to write something on a web page that we could have easily said in conversation in far less time! We also often blog about what we are doing and friends are typically a part of that. Hmmmm...Perhaps not a stage of life either, for many still keep a diary, unwilling to share their most hopeful hopes, disappointing disappointments, and joyous joys. Yet still blog...!
So why then do we blog?? Why do you blog? Truly, we are the most awkward of creatures...perhaps Ryan and I more than others...:P
Friday, May 30, 2008
Unspoken Sermons - Obedience
To put off obeying Him till we find a credible theory concerning Him, is to set aside the potion we know it our duty to drink, for the study of the various schools of therapy. You know what Christ requires of you is right --- much of it as least you believe to be right, and your duty to do, whether He said it or not: do it. If you do not do what you know of the truth, I do not wonder that you seek intellectually, for that kind of search may well be, as Milton represents it, a solace even to the fallen angels. But do not call anything that may be so gained, The Truth. How can you, not caring to be true, judge concerning him whose life was to do for very love the things you confess your duty, yet do them not? Obey the truth, I say, and let theory wait. Theory may spring from life, but never life from theory.
Believe Not Do?
"He is a well-meaning man," she said to herself, "but dreadfully mistaken: the Bible says believe not do!"
The poor girl, though she read her Bible regularly, was so blinded by the dust and ashes of her teaching, that she knew very little of what was actually in it. The most significant things slipped from her as if they were merest words without shadow of meaning of intent: they did not support the doctrines she had be taught, and therefore said nothing to her. The story of Christ and the appeals of those who had handled the Word of Life had another end in view than making people understand how God arranged matters to save them. God would have us live: if we live we cannot but know; all the knowledge in the universe could not make us live. Obedience is the road to all things --- the only way in which to grow able to trust Him. Love and faith and obedience are sides of the same prism.
The poor girl, though she read her Bible regularly, was so blinded by the dust and ashes of her teaching, that she knew very little of what was actually in it. The most significant things slipped from her as if they were merest words without shadow of meaning of intent: they did not support the doctrines she had be taught, and therefore said nothing to her. The story of Christ and the appeals of those who had handled the Word of Life had another end in view than making people understand how God arranged matters to save them. God would have us live: if we live we cannot but know; all the knowledge in the universe could not make us live. Obedience is the road to all things --- the only way in which to grow able to trust Him. Love and faith and obedience are sides of the same prism.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Valtrex
Did you know 1 in 5 American adults has genital herpes? I didn't...a Valtrex commercial told me. You can check it out too...http://www.valtrex.com/aboutherpes/howcommon_herpes.html says that a person who only has 1 partner can get herpes...true. But that doesn't seem to be dealing with the real problem.
Some actor dressed up like a doctor (or an actual doctor) goes on to say "It's because so few people know they're spreading it." If this guy is an actual doctor...well...we may as well just give up on health care tomorrow, because they're obviously not teaching anything in medical school anymore. Again...not dealing with the problem.
As far as I know and have read...herpes (HSV-2) didn't come from 1 man and women having an intimate relationship. Actually, most read implies that it comes from multiple partners having promiscuous sex. Maybe the problem isn't the disease...maybe it's our morals.
Some actor dressed up like a doctor (or an actual doctor) goes on to say "It's because so few people know they're spreading it." If this guy is an actual doctor...well...we may as well just give up on health care tomorrow, because they're obviously not teaching anything in medical school anymore. Again...not dealing with the problem.
As far as I know and have read...herpes (HSV-2) didn't come from 1 man and women having an intimate relationship. Actually, most read implies that it comes from multiple partners having promiscuous sex. Maybe the problem isn't the disease...maybe it's our morals.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
A Prayer for My Life
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy;
O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
-St. Francis of Assisi
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy;
O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
-St. Francis of Assisi
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Unspoken Sermons
If there be a God, and I am his creature, there may be, there should be, there must be some open communication between He and I. If anyone allow a God, but one scarce good enough to care about his creatures, I will yield him that it were foolish to pray to such a God; but the notion that, with all the good impulses in us, we are the offspring of a cold-hearted devil, is so horrible in its inconsistency, that I would ask that man what hideous and cold-hearted disrregard to the truth makes him capable of the supposition! To such a one God's terrors, or, if not His terrors, then God's sorrows yet will speak; the divine something in him will love, and the love be left moaning.
If i find my position, my consciousness, that of one from home nay, that of one from some sort of prison; if I find that I can neither rule the world in which I live nor my own thoughts or desires; that I cannot quiet my own passions, order my likings, determine my ends, will my growth, forget when I would, or recall what I forget; that I cannot love where I would, or hate where I would; that I am no king over myself; that I cannot supply my own needs, do not even always know which of my seeming needs are to be supplied, and which treated as impostersl if, in a word, my own being is everyway too much for mel if I can neither understand it, be satisfied with it, nor better it --- may it not well give me a pause --- the pause that ends in prayer?
When my own scale seems too large for my management; when I reflect that I cannot account for my existence, have had no poorest hand in it, neither, should I like it, can do anything towards causing it to cease; when I think that I can do nothing to make up to those I love, any more than to those I hate, for evils I have done them and sorrows I have caused them; that in my worst moments I disbelieve in my best, in my best loathe my worst; that there is in me no wholeness, no unity; that life is not a good to me, for I scorn myself --- when I think all or any such things, can it be strange if I think also that surely there ought to be somewhere a being to account for me, one to account for himself, and make the round of my existence just; one whose very being accounts and is necessary to account for mine; whose presence in my being is imperative, not merely to supplement it, but to make myself my existence a good?
If i find my position, my consciousness, that of one from home nay, that of one from some sort of prison; if I find that I can neither rule the world in which I live nor my own thoughts or desires; that I cannot quiet my own passions, order my likings, determine my ends, will my growth, forget when I would, or recall what I forget; that I cannot love where I would, or hate where I would; that I am no king over myself; that I cannot supply my own needs, do not even always know which of my seeming needs are to be supplied, and which treated as impostersl if, in a word, my own being is everyway too much for mel if I can neither understand it, be satisfied with it, nor better it --- may it not well give me a pause --- the pause that ends in prayer?
When my own scale seems too large for my management; when I reflect that I cannot account for my existence, have had no poorest hand in it, neither, should I like it, can do anything towards causing it to cease; when I think that I can do nothing to make up to those I love, any more than to those I hate, for evils I have done them and sorrows I have caused them; that in my worst moments I disbelieve in my best, in my best loathe my worst; that there is in me no wholeness, no unity; that life is not a good to me, for I scorn myself --- when I think all or any such things, can it be strange if I think also that surely there ought to be somewhere a being to account for me, one to account for himself, and make the round of my existence just; one whose very being accounts and is necessary to account for mine; whose presence in my being is imperative, not merely to supplement it, but to make myself my existence a good?
Thursday, May 8, 2008
Unspoken
Love is one, and love is changeless.
For love loves unto purity. Love have ever in view the absolute loveliness of that which it beholds. Where loveliness is incomplete, and love cannot love its fill of loving, it spends itself to make more lovely, that it may love more; it strives for perfection, even that itself may be perfected -- not in itself, but in the object. As it was love that first created humanity, so even human love, in proportion to its divinity, will go on creating the beautiful for its own outpouring. There is nothing eternal but that which loves and can be loved, and love is ever climbing towards the consummation when such shall be the universe, imperishable, divine.
For love loves unto purity. Love have ever in view the absolute loveliness of that which it beholds. Where loveliness is incomplete, and love cannot love its fill of loving, it spends itself to make more lovely, that it may love more; it strives for perfection, even that itself may be perfected -- not in itself, but in the object. As it was love that first created humanity, so even human love, in proportion to its divinity, will go on creating the beautiful for its own outpouring. There is nothing eternal but that which loves and can be loved, and love is ever climbing towards the consummation when such shall be the universe, imperishable, divine.
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