I know that God is faithful in words. I always have. But now as I come home from school, I really see His faithfulness at work in my life.
There have been prayers of mine that have been repeated over and over. There was a young man that caught my fancy and was the only young man that I really liked for about three years. I knew that it would never work in my favor, so I often prayed that God would take those feelings from me. And He did. I was walking across campus one day, thinking about this young man, and I knew at that moment that I was done with him. He could still be my friend but not the only man I placed my affections on.
There was another young man that actually indulged my affections and dated me, and proceeded to hurt me terribly. I was bitter for a very long time. It was hard to talk to him and see him with my other friends. But God is faithful, and He has healed my heart.
What a great God He is! Thank the Lord for His faithfulness!
Friday, May 30, 2008
Sunday, May 4, 2008
The Theology of Delight by Scott Cairns
Imagine a world, this ridiculous,
tentative bud blooming
in your hand. There in your hand, a world
opening up, stretching, after the image
of your hand. Imagine
a field of sheep grazing, or a single sheep
grazing and wandering in delight
of grass, of wildflowers
lifting themselves, after their fashion,
to be flowers. Or a woman, lifting her hand
to touch her brow, and the intricacy
of the motion that frees her
to set the flat part of her hand carelessly
to her brow. Once, while walking, I happened
across a woman whose walking had brought her
to a shaded spot near a field. Enjoying
that cool place together, we sat watching sheep
and the wind moving the wildflowers in the field.
As we rose to set out again, our movement
startled the flock into running; they ran
only a little way before settling again
to their blank consideration of the grass.
But one of them continued, its prancing
taking it far into the field where,
free of the others, it leapt for no clear reason,
and set out walking through a gathering
of flowers, parting that grip of flowers with its face.
tentative bud blooming
in your hand. There in your hand, a world
opening up, stretching, after the image
of your hand. Imagine
a field of sheep grazing, or a single sheep
grazing and wandering in delight
of grass, of wildflowers
lifting themselves, after their fashion,
to be flowers. Or a woman, lifting her hand
to touch her brow, and the intricacy
of the motion that frees her
to set the flat part of her hand carelessly
to her brow. Once, while walking, I happened
across a woman whose walking had brought her
to a shaded spot near a field. Enjoying
that cool place together, we sat watching sheep
and the wind moving the wildflowers in the field.
As we rose to set out again, our movement
startled the flock into running; they ran
only a little way before settling again
to their blank consideration of the grass.
But one of them continued, its prancing
taking it far into the field where,
free of the others, it leapt for no clear reason,
and set out walking through a gathering
of flowers, parting that grip of flowers with its face.
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