mercredi 22 octobre 2008
norah jones
La voix de Norah Jones est plus belle. J'adore sa musique... ça me semble qu'elle sait la beauté de la vie et ses difficultés, et je pense qu'elle chante très doucement de ces choses.
mardi 6 mai 2008
c'est dommage
Il y a trop de temps que j'ai écrit en francais (on doit m'excuse, je ne peut mettre ici le squiggle dessous de "c"). Alors, le francais est maintenant plus difficile d'écrire qu'en l'année dernière. Je ne sais plus si les mots que j'écrive sont corrects... C'est dommage, parce que j'adore le francais et je veux tant de le comprendre mieux.
mardi 8 avril 2008
experience francaise
Cela est un petit experiment... pour voir si je puisse penser en francais ainsi qu'en anglais. Je doit practiquer mon francais, et j'aime l'ecriture, donc je veux ajouter les deux!
Je n'ai pas encore trouve la methode dont je peux ecrire les accents avec mon ordinateur portable... je suis desole! Je suis en train de le rechercher.
C'est suffit pour le moment :o)
vendredi 25 mai 2007
reason
Is the use of reason un-Christian or the fruitful use of one of God's gifts? I'm reading a book at the moment which seems to hold something close to the former, but I've always been brought up to believe the latter.
I hereby commit to writing a post on this issue when I have the time. Ironically, this will involve the use of reason... :o)
Life is short, and it's tragic when it's cut even shorter. Often young people seem to ignore the fact that they will die, and neglect to realise that this could happen at any time from this moment now. Gosh... It's so sobering to think of it. Make the most of life - be thankful for your blessings - seek first the kingdom of God.
I hereby commit to writing a post on this issue when I have the time. Ironically, this will involve the use of reason... :o)
Life is short, and it's tragic when it's cut even shorter. Often young people seem to ignore the fact that they will die, and neglect to realise that this could happen at any time from this moment now. Gosh... It's so sobering to think of it. Make the most of life - be thankful for your blessings - seek first the kingdom of God.
jeudi 3 mai 2007
idiosyncrasies
I've noticed over the last couple of days that many of the houses I walk past are quite idiosyncratic. There's a particular part of Glebe where there are seem to be many houses whose residents have lived there for a very long time, and they've apparently lent to their houses their own idiosyncrasies. No one house is the same as another, and the difference in this part of Glebe is even more marked than in the rest. One might have a front porch full of succulents (they're a type of plant, for those who aren't botanically inclined); one might have a particular wooden sculpture in a windowsill; one might have a glittered animal statue of some kind leaping across the top of a rose arbour that you can only see if you're looking straight at it because of the vines that have grown to cover it; one might have "NO LOCAL PAPERS" in large letters above the letterbox; really, there's something new to see every time you go down that street.
I'm sure the occupants are just as interesting. I'm sure that if you struck up a friendship with them, each new conversation would show up something new and unexpected and rich. And yet, I'm sure that I would have walked past them in the street at some point of my life in and around Glebe and just thought they looked a little odd and a little freaky.
Why is it that we're so afraid of people who aren't the same as, or at least aren't fairly similar to, ourselves? Why should a different way of dressing, or different mannerisms, or different tastes in home decoration make us feel uncomfortable?
I was in a French tutorial today, and one of the guys tried to explain that it was logical to be afraid of homeless people because many of them are "insane", and one has no idea when they might attack you. The discussion ensued around this point for about 15 minutes, trying to explain that we're afraid of them because they're different, and why it is that we perceive them as different - and yet, for all of that, I never once heard a decent reason to avoid the homeless. I never once heard a reason that would stand up before a Salvation Army volunteer, let alone before God. I am certain, without a shadow of a doubt, that the young guy in my class would regret what he had said as soon as he hit the streets, if it ever befell him to have to do so - I am certain that he would feel crushed that everyone walking past was ignoring and avoiding him and rationalising it away as a fear of something different.
I know I'm as guilty as the next of avoiding someone less well-off than I am... but may God have mercy on me if I ever stop trying to overcome that fear.
I'm sure the occupants are just as interesting. I'm sure that if you struck up a friendship with them, each new conversation would show up something new and unexpected and rich. And yet, I'm sure that I would have walked past them in the street at some point of my life in and around Glebe and just thought they looked a little odd and a little freaky.
Why is it that we're so afraid of people who aren't the same as, or at least aren't fairly similar to, ourselves? Why should a different way of dressing, or different mannerisms, or different tastes in home decoration make us feel uncomfortable?
I was in a French tutorial today, and one of the guys tried to explain that it was logical to be afraid of homeless people because many of them are "insane", and one has no idea when they might attack you. The discussion ensued around this point for about 15 minutes, trying to explain that we're afraid of them because they're different, and why it is that we perceive them as different - and yet, for all of that, I never once heard a decent reason to avoid the homeless. I never once heard a reason that would stand up before a Salvation Army volunteer, let alone before God. I am certain, without a shadow of a doubt, that the young guy in my class would regret what he had said as soon as he hit the streets, if it ever befell him to have to do so - I am certain that he would feel crushed that everyone walking past was ignoring and avoiding him and rationalising it away as a fear of something different.
I know I'm as guilty as the next of avoiding someone less well-off than I am... but may God have mercy on me if I ever stop trying to overcome that fear.
samedi 14 avril 2007
supplication
May the Lord bring peace to this broken world,
May He heal her aching wounds,
May He bandage her with His cloths of love -
Costly weave of Calv'ry's loom -
And as sun and moon both cast their light
On all - toil, grief or play -
May the gracious Lord be each one's sight
And may night turn to day.
May the Lord bring peace to a broken girl,
May He heal her aching wounds,
May He wind her heart in His cloths of love -
Costly weave of Calv'ry's loom -
And as sun and moon both shine their light
On her, her grief, her grey,
May the gracious Lord be her one sight
And her night turn to day.
May the Lord bring peace to this broken man,
May He heal my aching wounds,
May He bandage me with His love's strong bands -
Costly weave of Calv'ry's loom -
And as sun and moon both grant their light,
Oh grand this Lord, I pray:
May You, my Friend, be my one sight
And my night turn to day.
May the Lord return to this broken world,
May His faithful see Him soon,
And be clothed in white, in His robe of love -
Costly weave of Calv'ry's loom -
And may sun and moon both pale beside
The Morning Star's bright ray;
May the gracious Lord be our one sight
In God's eternal day.
--Iain Hart
May He heal her aching wounds,
May He bandage her with His cloths of love -
Costly weave of Calv'ry's loom -
And as sun and moon both cast their light
On all - toil, grief or play -
May the gracious Lord be each one's sight
And may night turn to day.
May the Lord bring peace to a broken girl,
May He heal her aching wounds,
May He wind her heart in His cloths of love -
Costly weave of Calv'ry's loom -
And as sun and moon both shine their light
On her, her grief, her grey,
May the gracious Lord be her one sight
And her night turn to day.
May the Lord bring peace to this broken man,
May He heal my aching wounds,
May He bandage me with His love's strong bands -
Costly weave of Calv'ry's loom -
And as sun and moon both grant their light,
Oh grand this Lord, I pray:
May You, my Friend, be my one sight
And my night turn to day.
May the Lord return to this broken world,
May His faithful see Him soon,
And be clothed in white, in His robe of love -
Costly weave of Calv'ry's loom -
And may sun and moon both pale beside
The Morning Star's bright ray;
May the gracious Lord be our one sight
In God's eternal day.
--Iain Hart
mardi 20 mars 2007
a touch of beauty
Lately, there have been lots of things going on in my life. I'll be the first to admit that I haven't liked the experience much. However, on reflection, I'm really grateful for the deepened knowledge of how God works that I've gained from these experiences. Well, maybe not so much the way God works, but at least the signs that He is working.
Whenever God works in the world, there's a touch of beauty in what He does. It doesn't matter whether it's pleasant or horrible to us - it seems that in all that God does He leaves beauty as a sign of His work. It's a beauty that's subtle; it's often only sensed when you stop to look and the Spirit can point it out to you, but it's always there in His works. It's in the fact that His works actually do work. Everything ties in together into a story that could only ever have God as its author. "All things work together for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose", and He is the orchestrator of it all. You see it, even only as much as your small mind can comprehend, and no matter how unhappy you may be at what God has done, you can't avoid saying to yourself, "Yeah, God did pretty good here I guess."
It can take a while to see, sometimes even months or years as your eyes are slowly opened to it. First you see that God's given you a peace about something, and then that peace enables you to be calm and humble and see the good that will come from God's work and how much better it is than what would have been if you had been in control. More importantly though, that peace enables you to trust God to continue His work, when you can't see the finished product and can only see a few things that didn't go your way, pointing vaguely in the direction of something shaped rather like something better.
I have been told that God is a hedonist - that He loves pleasure, He takes pleasure in our pleasure, and He gives us pleasures accordingly. "At His right hand are pleasures for evermore." Pleasure in its purest form delights in things that are good. God has adopted us as children through Christ, and is making us even now into His likeness - we're being made to be like Him, and that's good. I guess He gives us the gift of the perception of the beauty and goodness of His works so that we find joy in His renewing, rebuilding work just as He does. As our Father, He wants us to take pleasure in what He takes pleasure in.
It's not that He takes pleasure in giving us hard times... No, but He often won't withhold them, because as I've heard someone say once, He loves us too much to leave us how we are. He's our Father, and He's committed Himself to remaking us into the likeness of His Son, but that often involves really hard times for us as He removes from us what doesn't belong. He knows that it's really hard to be joyful when you're going through suffering like this, so He lets us see His mark - just a little sign to say "It's Me doing this, and therefore it will turn out good."
I'm really grateful for the times I've seen the beauty of God's work and the beauty of what is unfolding before me from His hand. I'm seeing it now, and I'm encouraged - God's working on me, and therefore whatever He does, and wherever He leads, it will be good.
Whenever God works in the world, there's a touch of beauty in what He does. It doesn't matter whether it's pleasant or horrible to us - it seems that in all that God does He leaves beauty as a sign of His work. It's a beauty that's subtle; it's often only sensed when you stop to look and the Spirit can point it out to you, but it's always there in His works. It's in the fact that His works actually do work. Everything ties in together into a story that could only ever have God as its author. "All things work together for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose", and He is the orchestrator of it all. You see it, even only as much as your small mind can comprehend, and no matter how unhappy you may be at what God has done, you can't avoid saying to yourself, "Yeah, God did pretty good here I guess."
It can take a while to see, sometimes even months or years as your eyes are slowly opened to it. First you see that God's given you a peace about something, and then that peace enables you to be calm and humble and see the good that will come from God's work and how much better it is than what would have been if you had been in control. More importantly though, that peace enables you to trust God to continue His work, when you can't see the finished product and can only see a few things that didn't go your way, pointing vaguely in the direction of something shaped rather like something better.
I have been told that God is a hedonist - that He loves pleasure, He takes pleasure in our pleasure, and He gives us pleasures accordingly. "At His right hand are pleasures for evermore." Pleasure in its purest form delights in things that are good. God has adopted us as children through Christ, and is making us even now into His likeness - we're being made to be like Him, and that's good. I guess He gives us the gift of the perception of the beauty and goodness of His works so that we find joy in His renewing, rebuilding work just as He does. As our Father, He wants us to take pleasure in what He takes pleasure in.
It's not that He takes pleasure in giving us hard times... No, but He often won't withhold them, because as I've heard someone say once, He loves us too much to leave us how we are. He's our Father, and He's committed Himself to remaking us into the likeness of His Son, but that often involves really hard times for us as He removes from us what doesn't belong. He knows that it's really hard to be joyful when you're going through suffering like this, so He lets us see His mark - just a little sign to say "It's Me doing this, and therefore it will turn out good."
I'm really grateful for the times I've seen the beauty of God's work and the beauty of what is unfolding before me from His hand. I'm seeing it now, and I'm encouraged - God's working on me, and therefore whatever He does, and wherever He leads, it will be good.
Inscription à :
Messages (Atom)
