Let us Return

Return,
Let us make of the day a Moving
Of shapes and Forms in the dust.
A Crawling let us be,
A slow and weary making of steps and paths
A long career on fragile, mending wings
Held together in wax
Which may
Break.

God, we shall return- I
Will come back fearfully into the courts
Of the High King,
Ard Rhys who shall look down
And pardon as he wishes.

I'm sorry

I panic easily.

God, you know how I do this, how I fret and speak in an angry to e. Sometimes I do t even mean it, but too often I do. You know I am angry so often, and how I strike out at random.

I'm sorry I was so furious today and ignored your voice telling me how foolish it was to do so. I'm sorry I ranted and held on to bitterness, picked it up where I reluctantly dropped it in the mud. Help me throw it frothier firm me this time, far where I cannot remember where it lies.

Conferences and Broken Strings

God- I think I get it.

The Writer's Conference was your idea- I'm seeing that now. I didn't just burn with excitement to go- I just felt like I should- so I did. While I was there, you challanged me and woke me up to the fact that I left the works given me unfinished; my tasks undone.

But then you continued your lesson. I walked in to the sanctuary today and tuned my guitar- content in my own skill and the routine. I played a few seconds- and then my b-string snapped. Only you could plan to break the only string that wouldn't totally de-rail me, but get my attention. I didn't have a B-string to replace it with, but I did have an E. I had just what I needed- a string.

I've been prodded out of my complacency- and made to realize that my own skill and prowess mean nothing in the light of you.

Thank you, God!


You told me to write at the conference- made my blood sing and my spirit cry it's readiness. You reminded me that all words are yours, Author of Language and Origin of all Tongues. Can I ask a blessing of works made by hands? I don't know if I should- but I ask it as humbly as I can, as carefully as I can. If this is your will, then please do with it what you want.

I almost wrote "help it prosper", but it seemed presumptuous, God. Then I considered "bless it". Didn't I seem so pious there? But it's fate is yours as it is all yours. Whatever happens to it, any and all works wrought by my hand are yours. My part is to work and to run, you choose what grows and what is stricken down.

If I don't succeed by the world's standards of publishment, then I will haved still done what I was commanded to do. If I do, then I have done what I was commanded to do.

It's yours.

The First Post and an Explanation of the Title

As the title of my first post foretells, I will explain the title of the blog. But first, let me explain it's purpose.

I use my computer for a lot of things. I buy off Amazon, look up cheats for Kedi Knight II, go "fungeon" running on Guild Wars, or invest 20+ hours of my life in a campaign on Rome: TW or Empire at War.

In essence, I use the ocmputer for a lot of things- maybe it's time I try using it for God. At least, to help me walk with him. Let me explain.

On this blog I intend to record my thoughts, questions with God, and even write to him directly. But today, like my Counterpart (Lair) I want to explain my title.

My title comes from A C.S. Lewis book called "Perelandra" (sp, maybe.) It's the second book of his space trilogy. I chose it because these books profoundly effected my life, particularly That Hideous Strength.

On the planet Perelandra, the original Fall is to be re-enacted (or not.) Ransom is there as a new character in the ancient story- the defender of the Innocence of this new Eve.

The Green LAdy (eve on Perelandra or Venus) remarks in awe when she discovers that Ransom's Earth has a clear view of the stars how terrible and fearful a thing it must be to be under the gaze of all Deep Heaven.

This part always struck me as deeply significant. Not just on an aethestic level- stars are beautiful, surely- but on a spiritual level. We live under the gaze of Deep Heaven- the weight of the cosmos on our fragile human frames.

Here's what I'm tryingn to say: that line in the book always reminds me strongly how small I am, and how small all of us together are, and how massive and majestic God is. He is the King of the Universe who's power binds the very molecules that create me togehter-what could I, a small speck eating ramen in front of a small screen on a small blue dot in the sky of foreign worlds a hundred times Earth's size- what could I be to him?

But, we see so clearly in his actions, we mean enough to him to suffer. We meant enough to die. He used us-small things- as a means to bring glory to himself. The giant reached down and rescued a tiny ant from the flames.

So I guess the title is there to remind me of my smallness. One of my cheif vices is pride. Sometimes, I have to remember how small I am and how Awesome and Great he is.

And how he reached down between the greatest height discrepency ever recorded ( :) ) and loved me.