I posted my first "Carefully Chosen" blog entry one year ago yesterday. It was titled "Avoidance and Hesitation," and I wanted to take a moment to revisit it now - for myself, and for those of you who've only started reading recently. I'd like you to know the spirit in which it all began.
Since the notion of blogs first came onto my screen, I didn't like it. I put blogging in the same category as instant and text messaging -- new modes of communication destined to contribute to the breakdown of the English language as we know it. Poor spelling, bad grammar, and juvenile acronyms abound in cyberspace, and they tend to leave my stomach churning. For a long time, I've refused to join the blogging world.
Yet here I sit, with words, thoughts, ideas and stories swirling through my mind, rarely being pinned down onto paper, and all too often being lost forever because of my laziness. I find myself craving a space for the "in-between" writing: words I hope others will read, unlike those tucked safely away in the pages of my journal, but words that are too brief or perhaps too young for me to put into a polished piece. Perhaps this space will provide me with building blocks for those pieces. Perhaps I will occasionally risk journal-level vulnerability in the words I post. Perhaps this blog will make someone think differently. I hope that someone will be me.
The title of my blog is Carefully Chosen, and I assure you that each word written here will be. I promise myself -- and anyone who might be so inclined to glance at this website now and then -- that I will write well here, complete with proper punctuation and sans any sentences ending in prepositions (though I confess I may have already failed in that endeavor - does anyone have a red pen?).
My other hesitation about blogging comes from wondering about who will read my blog. It seems presumptuous to think that anyone would care to, yet I still hope that someone might. I don't want an audience to be my motivation for writing, nor do I want to expect an audience in this venue. At the same time, if an audience does wander in, I want them to have something to chew on. Part of choosing my words carefully will be based in that paradox. I will avoid pandering to any particular hoped-for reader, and I will also do my best to make what I post here worth the while of someone who might read now and then.
Here's to a new and carefully chosen blog.
And here's to another year of carefully chosen and thoughtfully crafted words. I hope and pray that what I write will continue to be worth the while of anyone who happens by.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Sunday, January 14, 2007
As it snows...
Snow is falling on St. Paul tonight.
I had forgotten the entrancing magic of falling snow.
I had forgotten how the innumerable little flakes seem to whisper "shhhh" and quiet the world.
I had forgotten how the fresh blanket of white coaxes us all to slow down a little.
I had forgotten the way it sparkles.
"Come now, let us reason together, says the LORD: though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be white as snow..." Isaiah 1:18
Lord, thank you for snow - and for stirring praise in my heart with this display of your glory. Thank you for reminding me of the joy, the captivating beauty, the purity that Heaven bestows on the earth in the brief moments of a fresh snowfall. Above all, thank you for bestowing that same joy, beauty, and purity on me - a sinner. How good you are to me!
I had forgotten the entrancing magic of falling snow.
I had forgotten how the innumerable little flakes seem to whisper "shhhh" and quiet the world.
I had forgotten how the fresh blanket of white coaxes us all to slow down a little.
I had forgotten the way it sparkles.
"Come now, let us reason together, says the LORD: though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be white as snow..." Isaiah 1:18
Lord, thank you for snow - and for stirring praise in my heart with this display of your glory. Thank you for reminding me of the joy, the captivating beauty, the purity that Heaven bestows on the earth in the brief moments of a fresh snowfall. Above all, thank you for bestowing that same joy, beauty, and purity on me - a sinner. How good you are to me!
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Deceptive Similarity
"One more step towards a pain-free world."
This statement, from Tylenol's latest advertising campaign, has bothered me since the first time I heard it. It didn't merely irritate me, or make me feel unsettled - it actually sent chills through me. I couldn't explain why at first, or why it continued to do so each time I heard one of these TV or radio spots. However, a seemingly unrelated conversation a couple of days ago made it all clear.
My good friend Steph is serving with the Peace Corps in Macedonia. Through the wonders of modern technology we've been able to stay in touch pretty frequently, and chat live from time to time. Yesterday, she was proudly making use of the internet connection she recently had installed in her apartment, and she talked about some of the surprising things she's discovered - namely easy internet access and all if affords her - that make Macedonia seem not unlike the United States. She went on to tell me that according to the Peace Corps, volunteers in Eastern Europe have the highest rate of depression, and that's partly attributed to the fact that, on the surface, things look so much like home, but in reality they are not.
On the surface, things look like home... but in reality, they are not.
This is exactly why Tylenol's efforts to make this a pain-free world scare me. As mere humans defy age, risk, pain, it becomes easier to ignore our own mortality, and it becomes nearly impossible to remember our utter reliance on the grace of the One who created us. Furthermore, it seems that with every new innovation, whether in medicine or technology or safety engineering or myriad other fields, this world - at least our Western version of it - is starting to look more and more "perfect" on the surface. Tylenol and so many other fixes cheaply satiate our longing for a world beyond this one.
These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city. Hebrews 11:13-16
The Bible speaks of people of faith who longed for a better country - a heavenly one. In my own travels and in the stories I've heard from others, we often find the strongest faith in the people who have the least here on this earth - they know there must be a better place, so they wait and long for that heavenly home. They would anxiously and wholeheartedly join in singing the old spiritual, "Soon and very soon, we are going to see the Lord!" and soon could not be soon enough.
This type of longing and expectation - this faith - does not typically characterize those of us who have plenty. Surrounded by worldly abundance and material comforts, I find myself joining with Andrew Peterson in singing one of my favorite songs of his, "Land of the Free." The words of the song are directed towards Elba, a little girl in South America:
"...I'm just a little jealous
Of the nothing that you have
Unfettered by the wealth of
The world that we pretend is gonna last...
They say God blessed us with plenty
I say you're blessed with poverty
'cause you never stop to wonder
whether Earth is just a little better than the Land of the Free."
This world is not going to last. When I consider the faith of those remembered in Hebrews 11, I wonder - as we, through feeble human striving, try to build a world that more closely resembles the heavenly country we should be fixing our eyes on, is God ashamed to be called our God? I fear that he might be. Each step towards a pain-free world takes us one step closer to a world that doesn't think it needs God, and that kind of world is a dangerous one in which to live. The more comfortable we get in this world, which on the surface may resemble home, the more uncomfortable we will be when we're confronted with the reality of the true differences between this world and the one that is to come. This deceptive similarity will lead us to so much more than depression.
Lord, give me eyes to see the reality of this world, and instill in me a longing for your homeland. Let me live with the knowledge that the things of this world will not last, and keep me always mindful of my complete reliance on you for each breath, each day. You have prepared for us a city; let me live in this world in such a way that I will be prepared for eternal life with you in that city.
This statement, from Tylenol's latest advertising campaign, has bothered me since the first time I heard it. It didn't merely irritate me, or make me feel unsettled - it actually sent chills through me. I couldn't explain why at first, or why it continued to do so each time I heard one of these TV or radio spots. However, a seemingly unrelated conversation a couple of days ago made it all clear.
My good friend Steph is serving with the Peace Corps in Macedonia. Through the wonders of modern technology we've been able to stay in touch pretty frequently, and chat live from time to time. Yesterday, she was proudly making use of the internet connection she recently had installed in her apartment, and she talked about some of the surprising things she's discovered - namely easy internet access and all if affords her - that make Macedonia seem not unlike the United States. She went on to tell me that according to the Peace Corps, volunteers in Eastern Europe have the highest rate of depression, and that's partly attributed to the fact that, on the surface, things look so much like home, but in reality they are not.
On the surface, things look like home... but in reality, they are not.
This is exactly why Tylenol's efforts to make this a pain-free world scare me. As mere humans defy age, risk, pain, it becomes easier to ignore our own mortality, and it becomes nearly impossible to remember our utter reliance on the grace of the One who created us. Furthermore, it seems that with every new innovation, whether in medicine or technology or safety engineering or myriad other fields, this world - at least our Western version of it - is starting to look more and more "perfect" on the surface. Tylenol and so many other fixes cheaply satiate our longing for a world beyond this one.
These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city. Hebrews 11:13-16
The Bible speaks of people of faith who longed for a better country - a heavenly one. In my own travels and in the stories I've heard from others, we often find the strongest faith in the people who have the least here on this earth - they know there must be a better place, so they wait and long for that heavenly home. They would anxiously and wholeheartedly join in singing the old spiritual, "Soon and very soon, we are going to see the Lord!" and soon could not be soon enough.
This type of longing and expectation - this faith - does not typically characterize those of us who have plenty. Surrounded by worldly abundance and material comforts, I find myself joining with Andrew Peterson in singing one of my favorite songs of his, "Land of the Free." The words of the song are directed towards Elba, a little girl in South America:
"...I'm just a little jealous
Of the nothing that you have
Unfettered by the wealth of
The world that we pretend is gonna last...
They say God blessed us with plenty
I say you're blessed with poverty
'cause you never stop to wonder
whether Earth is just a little better than the Land of the Free."
This world is not going to last. When I consider the faith of those remembered in Hebrews 11, I wonder - as we, through feeble human striving, try to build a world that more closely resembles the heavenly country we should be fixing our eyes on, is God ashamed to be called our God? I fear that he might be. Each step towards a pain-free world takes us one step closer to a world that doesn't think it needs God, and that kind of world is a dangerous one in which to live. The more comfortable we get in this world, which on the surface may resemble home, the more uncomfortable we will be when we're confronted with the reality of the true differences between this world and the one that is to come. This deceptive similarity will lead us to so much more than depression.
Lord, give me eyes to see the reality of this world, and instill in me a longing for your homeland. Let me live with the knowledge that the things of this world will not last, and keep me always mindful of my complete reliance on you for each breath, each day. You have prepared for us a city; let me live in this world in such a way that I will be prepared for eternal life with you in that city.
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