I’d like to think about his suggestions in more detail, but already two of his insights are clearing a way forward for me: reading widely, and reading interactively. Challies figures that “one reason people do not read more is that they do not vary their reading enough. Any subject, no matter how much you are interested in it, can begin to feel dry if you focus all of your attention upon it.”  He’s right, and I am definitely seeing the signs of burn-out as I flip from book to book. Better to have the variety in the books you select than to never finish anything at all!

Tonight I was also more aggressive with my pencil and marginalia. It feels great to actually physically get into the text! I’ve gotten stuck trying to force myself through a process of “read, reflect, journal”, and it’s just made reading more effort than its worth. But by scribbling my praise (“Good!” “Yes!”), related thoughts, and even some brief personal application in the book right alongside the text, I’m free to focus on the reading and to mark up just as much or as little as is helpful.

Finally, I love this insight: “Anticipation for the next book is often a motivating force in completing the current book.”  If this is true for you, why not use it to your advantage?

(HT: Till I only dwell in Thee)

How lonely sits the city that was full of people!
How like a widow has she become, she who was great among the nations!
She who was a princess among the provinces has become a slave.

I often have a difficult time entering into the emotional life of the characters of Scripture.  The mourning of Lamentations over the destruction of Jerusalem feels palpable, though, not only because of the beautiful poetry, but because this particular chapter has a “hook” into my life.

Last year, our choir toured throughout Germany, and one of our stops was Dresden.  The inner core of Dresden was utterly decimated by the Allies during World War II; tens of thousands died.  When we went in 2007, they were still rebuilding the city centre.  You could feel the grief etched into the memory of the city and the people; for some a painful part of personal history, but for all, an inescapable part of Dresden identity.

Imagine this square left in ruins from bombing and firestorms:

While we were there, we had the pleasure of singing Wie liegt die Stadt so wüst (How desolate sits the city), right in the Frauenkirche in the heart of the city.  This piece was written by a Dresden composer to lament the tragedy of the bombing — and he drew from Lamentations for his text.

Now when I read Lamentations, I find myself wandering these same streets of Dresden, imagining the very streets I was walking on in utter ruin and despair, and fearing the real, recent terror of tens of thousands of people perishing in flame.  Jerusalem feels far away, but the emotions and the God it describes are not.

And the Word has renewed emotional currency for me.

Mauersberger’s Wie liegt die Stadt so wüst is on YouTube (not our choir) if you’d like to hear.

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I’m moving now, while I’m still getting the blog off the ground, because I wanted the option of moving my hosting services in the future.  Thanks for bearing with me!

My Bible reading plan this morning took me to Jeremiah 47-49.  Here the LORD is pouring out destruction against sin and idolatry.  His wrath lays entire cities to waste, strips the sinful bare, and destroys not only men but women, children, brothers, and neighbours.  Jeremiah repeats several times that each city “shall become a horror”, so that “everyone who passes by it will be horrified and will hiss because of all its disasters” (49:17).  In fact, the judgment of God is so determined that He curses those who, appointed to carry it out as an instrument of war, hold back their sword from bloodshed (49:10).  

The shock, awe, and intentionality of the sheer destruction he commands is astonishing.  But this is how much our Holy God hates sin! And this is what God poured out on Jesus as he stood in our place!  Our God demands that He alone be worshipped, and He will jealously protect the glory of his Name. 

But who may abide the day of His coming, and who shall stand when He appeareth?  For He is like a refiner’s fire.  (Malachi 3:2)

Praise God that we who are in Christ come to the Father not in our own clothing and commendations, but in the perfect obedience of Jesus.

My conversion at age 15 was rooted in a deep, spirit-wrought sense of my sin and need of a Saviour. I always believed I was a good person (and by most standards, I was!).  I even would have described myself as a Christian.  But something changed inside of me between October 1997 and January 1998, and I had begun to feel weighed down by shame.

One night our youth group was at an outdoor Christian concert sponsored by another local church.  It was pretty sparsely attended, but exciting for a young kid who knew very little about Christianity, and had never really listened to a rock band of any kind before.  One of the bands played In the Light, and I remember like yesterday the eery, exposed feeling that they could see right through me to the cesspool that was my heart.  I remember fighting back tears as I longed for relief from the shame and to be “in the light.”

Of course, I didn’t realise at the time that the song was about the righteousness of Christ living in us, not about us resolving to live more obediently.  I wasn’t saved at that moment.  But I remember the zeal with which I started to hate sin and the disgusting offense it brought to God, and I’m thankful that it was the beginnings of saving faith in Jesus.

I’m also humbled by the realisation that ten years later, I don’t hold the same disgust for sin. I have become too complacent and comfortable. Do we really long to be in the light?  Do we really hate it when our sinful selves rise up in disobedient rebellion against our loving Father?  I pray that God would restore that clear vision and earnestness, in order that the cross might shine brighter amidst the darkness of our former selves.

Photo: 268Generation

The Spirit was at work last night.  Though the excitement will wear off, the music will be replaced by newer bands and albums, and we will even soon (very soon) be too old to be invited, we can’t know in this life the seeds that were planted, the hearts that were regenerated, and the threads He is weaving together for the name and renown of the saviour.

For me, one of the moments that will most stick with me was the retelling of Ashley’s story. As Louie read from the diary of an unbelieving college student’s life and her burgeoning faith, the work of the Holy Spirit in humbling and regenerating sinners to become worshippers of the Saviour became ever clearer to me. This is not just a nice story; no, this is the active work of God, the God who hears our prayers and is calling and humbling a people from among your family, your friends, your workplace.

I want to be in faith for that work.

But I am learning that there is a world of difference between temperamental meekness (what someone like Mark Driscoll might call “wimpiness”) and the meekness found in the Bible. Here are some thoughts:

1. Meekness is more orientation than characteristic.  

I like this definition of meekness:

1. the feeling of patient, submissive humbleness 
2. a disposition to be patient and long suffering 

Both definitions have the meek person positioned humbly and patiently towards trials, sufferings, loss, criticism, etc. In fact, we are also called to meek towards scripture (James 1:21). In each case, though, meekness has something on the other end that it adopts a posture towards.

2. Meekness is inseparable from our relationship to God.

“Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the Earth” (Matthew 5:5).  

“Those who wait on the Lord shall possess the land” (Psalm 37:9b).  

As an orientation towards circumstances, meekness reflects our blood-bought place in God’s Kingdom. How is it that we are able to be patient, long-suffering, and submissive to trials? Because we trust that in Christ, God is for us, not against us; that we are heirs to all things; that He works all things together for the good of those who love him.  

John Piper suggests that the second part of each of the Beatitudes is there to strengthen our resolve to continue in meekness. In other words, our strength for meekness comes not from effort or self-filtering, but from courage rooted in the good promises of God. If we tear apart “meekness” from our posture towards God, we rob it of its power and authenticity. 

3. Meekness is revealed by our response to trials, suffering, loss, criticism, etc.

The test of meekness is how we respond to external challenges. In my life, that starts with the way I receive criticism. James 1:19-21 exhorts us to “be quick to hear; slow to speak, slow to anger…and receive with meekness the implanted word, which is able to save your souls.” If we really believe that a firm word is able to save our souls (James 1:21), or that trials reveal Christ to us more deeply (Philippians 3:8), we will not respond defensively or fearfully, but thankfully and humbly, because we know it is good for us and a gift from God. 

Meekness hands the reigns of sovereignty back to God the Father, and looks for real supremacy in Christ.

4. Meekness is a gift from God.

The Spirit is teaching me that I am not as meek as I would like to believe. I do not receive criticism well; nor do I consistently see the Christ-savouring power of trials and loss.

The good news is that God designs these words and these trials in part to help me grow in meekness, so that He may be glorified and I may find more and more joy in Christ. Therefore there is no condemnation when my lack of trust is laid bare. Rather, the cross becomes that much more wonderful: in this same act of revealing our weakness, he reveals his grace and strengthens our faith so that we will bear the fruit of meekness.

“For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life” (Romans 5:10).

Praise God that there is hope for the thin-skinned and for those who do not trust when we ought, for we are those whom Christ has come to save.

‘And a man shall be as an hiding place from the wind, and a covert from the tempest’ (Isaiah 32:2)

“Who this man is we all know. Who could he be but the Second Man, the Lord from heaven, the Man of sorrows, the Son of man? What a hiding-place he has been to his people! He bears the full force of the wind himself, and so he shelters those who hide themselves in him. We have thus escaped the wrath of God, and we shall thus escape the anger of men, the cares of this life, and the dread of death. Why do we stand in the wind when we may so readily and so surely get out of it by hiding behind our Lord? Let us this day run to him, and be at peace.

Often the common wind of trouble rises in its force and becomes a tempest, sweeping everything before it. Things which looked firm and stable rock in the blast, and many and great are the falls among our carnal confidences. Our Lord Jesus, the glorious Man, is a covert which is never blown down. In him we mark the tempest sweeping by, but we ourselves rest in delightful serenity.

This day let us just stow ourselves away in our hiding-place, and sit and sing under the protection of our covert. Blessed Jesus! Blessed Jesus! How we love thee! Well we may, for thou art to us a shelter in the time of storm.”

— C.H. Spurgeon, “September 15,” Cheque Book of the Bank of Faith.

More often, though, I lose sight of grace in subtler and more everyday ways. I look at my bursting calendar, fumbled friendships, frustrated plans and scarce energy even to start the day, and start to believe that God might be against me today. Yes, God has saved me from eternal damnation, but I sinned yesterday and didn’t pray this morning and maybe He’s angry with me this time and has reserved wrath for me in this situation. I imagine God like a pressured fault line: the earthquake is stayed, but His wrath still demands the occasional tremor.

But this is wrong. The Lord may discipline me in love (and it may feel like anger), but on the cross His wrath is already fully satisfied. If my circumstances are the consequences of my actions (and they may be), God intends this discipline for my good, not for release of remaining anger. Faith–itself a gift from God–reassures me that there is now no condemnation hereafter for those who are in Christ Jesus, and there is now no condemnation here.

I’m passionate about words and ideas. I find myself reading and thinking whenever I’m able (I am contemplative by temptation), and I love to help friends edit their papers, letters, speeches, whatever. However, I find it difficult to retain information unless I write or journal about it — hence Gospel Logic.

I’m a 25-year old undergraduate studying English literature. That means, among other things, that I can’t (and don’t) intend this blog to be a repository of expert knowledge or deep life experience. I don’t have either of those things. Rather, I want to explore–as a student, with a childlike faith–the power of words (and especially stories) to shape our experiences and mask or reveal sins, and to point to or obscure the gospel of the glory of God.

Rather than writing a long and self-indulging “about me” post, here are some of my distinctives (and influences) that I will be leaning on to kick-start the blog:

• I’m a part of a Sovereign Grace Ministries church. (I’ll come back to that another day.)
• I believe in propositional, revealed Truth in Scripture. At the same time, I have also found great help in “postliberal”, “narrative”, and radical-political accounts of the believer’s life. I don’t believe these are in conflict. Not everything from here is Christ-centred, but I do think there is helpful material here and would like to re-approach some of this material with careful, Gospel-focussed eyes.
• I love words and stories. Words hold extraordinary significance in our lives. So too with stories: “the world is made of stories, not atoms.”
• I enjoy literature (current favourites: John Steinbeck, George Eliot) and pop culture (The Office, Buffy, all kinds of music). I hope to blog often (primarily?) about what I’m reading, to help me better engage the material.
• I’m interested in the “emergent church”. I would not call myself a supporter, but I am interested in interacting with its theory of truth, its critique of conservative Christianity, and its aesthetic. I’m no stranger to its appeal.
• I believe that the Bible is the “breathed out” word of God, and therefore contains the most important words and is the true metanarrative.

I pray that Jesus Christ would be magnified through my little blog here: that others might see Him more truly, love Him more deeply, die to themselves more regularly, and trust in Him more completely. May you be guarded from error, and through my imperfections and missteps may His faithfulness shine even brighter.