A Precious Lesson

There is nothing that requires such gentle handling as an illusion, if one wishes to dispel it. If anything prompts the prospective captive to set his will in opposition, all is lost. And this is what a direct attack achieves, and it implies moreover the presumption of requiring a man to make to another person, or in his presence, an admission which he can make most profitably to himself privately. This is what is achieved by the indirect method which, loving and serving the truth, arranges everything dialectically for the prospective captive, and then shyly withdraws (for love is always shy), so as not to witness the admission which he makes to himself alone before God--that he has lived hitherto in an illusion.

If real success is to attend the effort to bring a man to a definite position, one must first of all take pains to find him where he is and begin there. This is the secret to the art of helping others. Anyone who has not mastered this is himself deluded when he proposes to help others. In order to help another effectively I must understand more than he--yet first of all surely I must understand what he understands. If I do not know that, then my greater understanding will be of no help to him. If, however, I am disposed to plume myself on my greater understanding, it is because I am vain or proud, so that at bottom, instead of benefiting him, I want to be admired. But all true effort to help begins with self-humiliation: the helper must first humble himself under him he would help, and therewith must understand that to help others does not mean to be sovereign, but to be a servant, that to help does not mean to be ambitious but to be patient, that to help means to endure for the time being the imputation that one is in the wrong and does not know what the other understands.

--S. Kierkegaard

a random thought on the art of writing...

The skillful commentative writer takes his pen like a scalpel to cut through the hardened skin of societal norms and expose the beastly cancer beneath.

"The essence of the prosperity gospel is that it leaves people unchanged in their appetites and then provides 'Jesus!' to meet them....Better business, better marriage, better kids - better everything I wanted before. Then you don't know Him. He did not come to serve your unregenerate appetites; He came to give you new appetites. That's the meaning of being born again."

- John Piper on John 6

The present ministry of Jesus

"We speak of the perseverance of the saints as if that were some innate quality which is placed in us. But that is not the case. The perseverance of the saints means that for every second of your life, Jesus will hold you and and Jesus will keep you and Jesus will guard you. We will persevere because we are being preserved." - Ted Donnelly

"You hold me by my right hand, you guide me with your counsel and afterward you will receive me into glory." - Psalm 73

"The psalmist doesn't say 'I hold you'. The psalmist says, 'You hold me'." - Ted Donnelly

"...because lawlessness will be increased, the love of many will grow cold." - Matt. 24.12

But oh Lord, not mine, please, please, not mine!

"If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love..." - John 15.10


Scripture from ESV

"Waking on a Fall Morning"

Morning
Soft gray light steals
Through cold and gentle curtains and
My bundled sleep
Swaddling, grave-clothes, bedclothes wrapped
Me now unwrapped to
Face the shiv’ry morning
But heat now greets
Me rising warm
With roasty air that boasts of toast
And coffee
And hearts that should be
Thankful

- AFC - 10-6-09

Fall

O Summer, do you leave us and so soon?
And take from us your pleasant, sunny days
That linger into twilight, after noon
Has filled earth’s treasure with its warming rays?

The brilliant skies of autumn utter cries
Of triumph’s hope, in Earth’s futility,
To which it yearly clearly testifies,
As blazing leaves fall from each conquered tree.

No sunny prospects now before us lie,
As summer fades, and Winters’ trumpet blows
Through frosty windowsill and wild goose cry,
And dark skies bode the coming of the snows.

What light shall cheer the winter-darkened panes
Of windows once illu’med by evening rays
Of summer sun, or dewed by spring’s sweet rains -
Shall gladness shrink as shorter grow the days?

Oh no, my soul has treasures deep and true
That spreads their mighty gladness through the year
And cheer my poor heart all the winter through
And trump decays and triumph over fear.

My soul has Jesus, maker of the sun
Whose love is warmer than the summer’s rays
Who’s loved by him need never feel alone
Nor desolate the soul that sings His praise.

Let love cheer all the windows of our home
And of our souls when cold and darkness fall
Around, outside - inside they need not come.
Our hearts have Christ, our light, our joy, our all.

And when the spring returns with flowers bright
And life awakes, and birds sing high and clear
We’ll see foretold the setting all things right
That’s echoed in the turning of the year.

- AFC, 9-22-2009