February 24, 2010
I am adding this to my book wishlist. I love all of that old Puritan stuff. People just don't talk like that anymore.
The thing that I find the most interesting about their writings is the passion. One usually doesn't think about Puritans and have the word passion come up, but when you start reading their prayers (like in The Valley of Vision) you can hear it in every page. They had a real passion for the person of God.
February 15, 2010
February 14, 2010
Sent to you by Mr. Harmless via Google Reader:
In a recent interview, Christopher Hitchens, the fervent atheist and author of God Is Not Great, showed he has a much clearer understanding of what it means to be a Christian than the Unitarian minister, who claims to be a Christian, interviewing him.
Marilyn Sewell: The religion you cite in your book is generally the fundamentalist faith of various kinds. I'm a liberal Christian, and I don't take the stories from the scripture literally. I don't believe in the doctrine of atonement (that Jesus died for our sins, for example). Do you make a distinction between fundamentalist faith and liberal religion?
Christopher Hitchens: I would say that if you don't believe that Jesus of Nazareth was the Christ and Messiah, and that he rose again from the dead and by his sacrifice our sins are forgiven, you're really not in any meaningful sense a Christian.
Click here to read the rest of the interview.
A Reader's Response to One of Randy's Books
Just a note to say thanks again for Lord Foulgrin's Letters. I re-read the book this week as I flew to Florida and back. It is an excellent work that really brings worldview thinking to life. I loved it the first time I read it and I enjoyed it even more this time. —M.H., Prison Fellowship Oregon
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by J.R.R. Tolkien
A little explanation...
In a letter to his son Christopher, Tolkien requested this inscription for his wife Edith's grave "for she was (and knew she was) my Lúthien." Their shared gravestone reads:
Edith Mary Tolkien
1889 – 1971
1892 – 1973
(click here for more and to see a picture of the gravestone...)
"The leaves were long, the grass was green,
The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,
And in the glade a light was seen
Of stars in shadow shimmering.
Tinuviel was dancing there
To music of a pipe unseen,
And light of stars was in her hair,
And in her raiment glimmering.
There Beren came from mountains cold.
And lost he wandered under leaves,
And where the Elven-river rolled
He walked alone and sorrowing.
He peered between the hemlock-leaves
And saw in wonder flowers of gold
Upon her mantle and her sleeves,
And her hair like shadow following.
Enchantment healed his weary feet
That over hills were doomed to roam;
And forth he hastened, strong and fleet,
And grasped at moonbeams glistening.
Through woven woods in Elvenhome
She lightly fled on dancing feet,
And left him lonely still to roam
In the silent forest listening.
He heard there oft the flying sound
Of feet as light as linden-leaves,
Or music welling underground,
In hidden hollows quavering.
Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves,
And one by one with sighing sound
Whispering fell the beachen leaves
In wintry woodland wavering.
He sought her ever, wandering far
Where leaves of years were thickly strewn,
By light of moon and ray of star
In frosty heavens shivering.
Her mantle glinted in the moon,
As on a hill-top high and far
She danced, and at her feet was strewn
A mist of silver quivering.
When winter passed, she came again,
And her song released the sudden spring,
Like rising lark, and falling rain,
And melting water bubbling.
He saw the elven-flowers spring
About her feet, and healed again
He longed by her to dance and sing
Upon the grass untroubling.
Again she fled, but swift he came,
He called her by her elvish name;
And there she halted listening.
One moment stood she, and a spell
His voice laid on her: Beren came,
And doom fell on Tinuviel
That in his arms lay glistening.
As Beren looked into her eyes
Within the shadows of her hair,
The trembling starlight of the skies
He saw there mirrored shimmering.
Tinuviel the elven-fair,
Immortal maiden elven-wise,
About him cast her shadowy hair
And arms like silver glimmering.
Long was the way that fate them bore,
O'er stony mountains cold and grey,
Through halls of iron and darkling door,
And woods of nightshade morrowless.
The Sundering Seas between them lay,
And yet at last they met once more,
And long ago they passed away
In the forest singing sorrowless."
Happy Valentine's Day, my love, My Luthien.
February 13, 2010
February 12, 2010
I won't bore you with a long post, but I do want to share a poem from the book that comes from the chapter dealing with worry (or anxiety). The poem was written by a 14-year old named Jason Lehman. It is called Present Tense.
It was spring
But it was summer I wanted,
The warm days,
And the great outdoors.
It was summer,
But it was fall I wanted,
The colorful leaves,
And the cool, dry air.
It was fall,
But it was winter I wanted,
The beautiful snow,
And the joy of the holiday season.
It was winter,
But it was spring I wanted,
And the blossoming of nature.
I was a child,
But it was adulthood I wanted.
And the respect.
I was 20,
But it was 30 I wanted,
To be mature,
I was middle-aged,
But it was 20 I wanted,
And the free spirit.
I was retired,
But it was middle age I wanted,
The presence of mind,
My life was over.
But I never got what I wanted.
I hope you enjoy that.