Till We Have Faces

I recently finished "Till We Have Faces" by C.S. Lewis. I was told by several individuals before I began reading the book that it was their favorite novel. I now understand. After I finished I noticed two things that remained in my mind.
The first is how disgusting and dreadful sacrifices are. "Hateful to Ungit, is it? Why does Ungit not mend it then? She's had bulls and rams and goats from me in plenty; blood enough to sail a ship on if all were reckoned" (45).
The second was Orual's complaint against the gods. As she began to read the complaint she understood that she knew the real answer all along. As she unrolled her book, "It was written all over inside, but the hand was not like mine. It was all a vile scribble - each stroke mean and yet savage, like a snarl in my father's voice, like the ruinous faces one could make out in the Ungit stone" (290). She had in fact written the book but she immediately recognized why and what the problem/solution was.

The Veritas Forum

Last April I helped host the first Veritas Forum at Boise State University. Dr. Scott Yenor delivered two lectures on how the modern view of science and the Christian world view understand pain in our lives. Does science as understood by the Enlightenment thinkers adequately account for why we find pain so problematic? Does the Christian world view allow for medical science to alleviate pain in our live? Is there an answer that both gives a solution for suffering and explains why it is a problem? The lectures may be found here.

The Dynamic of Service

An except from The Dynamic of Service by A. Paget Wilkes

The first need of Japan is for the preaching of a real salvation able to reach the lowest and vilest of men. It seems to be taken for granted that we can never expect anyone to be saved in a heathen land prior to a considerable period of instruction in the principles of Christianity. This appears both reasonable and ordinary common sense, and yet one feels instinctively that there must be a way for a helpless drunkard, a derelict on his way to commit suicide, a criminal condemned to death, and such other, to receive enough instruction in the elements of the Gospel to allow them entering into the experience of salvation immediately and without delay. ~circa 1920

French Missionaries

I recently received a newsletter from missionary friends of mine who are in France. This is an excerpt that i thought was very honest and encouraging.

It would be fantastic...and false, to be telling you every time I let you know what's going on, of how exciting life is here in France. Life, as a Christian, wherever you live, is hard. There are certainly the times of joy and excitement, the times when our eyes are wide with wonder at what the Lord is doing, but there are also the daily valleys, in which we find that what we are really made of. Will we continue to follow after Him with zeal when he has said to 'follow me' into the recesses of darkness, through the forests of loneliness and drudgery? Will I walk a holy life of peace and joy for Him, when relationships become unbearable and in constant conflict, when living circumstances become daily uncertain, when I miss my home, family, and friends so terribly... when He is all that I have will I still sing His praises?

What is exciting is that Christ is a sure steadfast anchor of hope, that He (unlike all persons and places around us) does not change, that He is faithful.

Much has happened over the last months, and I think I have found that nothing at all happens without prayer, nothing at all. Sadly, we spend so much more time investing in every other thing other than our time with the Lord and prayer. Do we really meet the people where they are at or are we simply telling them where they should be? Do we really take the gospel to them, or in the provision of certain programs require that they come to us?

The Words Squeezed from a Shattered Heart

(The first attempt of a hardcore lyric, produced on a winter night, some time ago)

How many times have you done this to me now?
You break my heart and expect me to come crying to you.
You stand there:
Cold.
Frozen to the bone.
Black hearted.

I confessed my sin to you, the horrible crime I committed.
I laid my heart out for you to see.

You say, "how could you do this to me?
How could you hurt me like this?"

I made an attempt to reach for you, but you slit my hand into pieces;
You stabbed me in the heart.
And you don't even realize how deep you are staring into yourself.

All the while I am:
Waiting.
Bleeding.
Dieing.


Now I am being poured into by Another.
Slowly.
Healing.
Healing what you tore apart.
Soon I will be fixed.
I can feel the blade you inserted, slowly removed.

Don't let your bitterness consume you.
Surrender.
Collapse.
It will hurt at first;
Give in.

All all the while I will be here;
Waiting.
Forgiveness in my hands.

De Anima

A thought occurred to me today in my Greek philosophy class about the change in the meaning of the word animal. Anima is Greek [Latin, actually] for soul. Thus anything that has a soul is an animal; living, breathing. When the ancients called beasts animals, they were in a sense raising them up; making them just below man, superior over plants and the non-living. However, when the modern man calls humans animals he intends to lower man to the same level of beasts; usually one with no morality and only superior by sheer cunning and brute force.

The State of Man

In the 20th century:

"A sentence will suffice for modern man: he fornicated and read the papers...." ~Albert Camus The Fall 1956.


In the 21st century:

"A sentence will suffice for modern man: he just fornicated..." ~Justin Ranger in ingenio meo 2007.