Understandably no pictures are available on the internetski of little Matthew Arnold (and I’m sure that having a famous name like that wouldn’t help the google searches). But I think this smile might be all you need to know; here’s one very proud Dad. I am Aunty Kath. Or Auntie Kath. Lets have a poll – Aunty or Auntie? Spell check says Auntie but I’m not convinced.
No Line on the Horizon
The new U2 album. Wibblying guitars, interesting lyrics, beautiful lush voices, musical landscapes, Larry’s splash cymbal once again, funked up noise and more. Less accessible than the last but better for it. Just my opinion you understand. Best listened to turned up loud. I like it, but meh everyone has a view on this one.
This one is a Good Read. It might make you cry. It might frustrate you with the lack of nice neat answers with little bows wrapped around them but you’ll be better off for it. He manages that weird trick of asking the deepest most painful questions but still retaining faith and love for this God who is fairly incomprehensible at times. It’s a rambling book of thoughts, good to peer in at a big brain thinking those thoughts.
Here’s a bit:
“It seems, indeed, that it is precisely those who have the closest relationship with God who feel most at liberty to pour out their pain and protest to God without fear of reproach. Lament is not only allowed in the Bible; it is modeled for us in abundance. God seems to want to give us as many words with which to fill in our complaint forms as to write our thank you notes. Perhaps this is because whatever amount of lament the world causes us to express is a drop in the ocean compared to the grief in the heart of God himself at the totality of suffering that only God can comprehend.”
Here he is again, quite near the beginning of this piece. But SO cool anyway even if Dad wasn’t in it, the tunnel has broken through. Genius. If you like that sort of thing. I am ridiculously proud of my Dad, he, like, manages this project. I can’t even comprehend sorting out something so big. Go look and wonder at what we can do as humans.
I’m currently pondering the content of blog posts and the wisdom of disclosure in such an abstract context. (can you tell I’ve been to L’abri recently?) I think the answer is more thinking, ‘why I am posting this?’, before I post. More questions such as: Am I communicating something I should really communicate to an actual person instead? Am I disclosing too much? Do I love the control and impersonality of this medium a little too much? Am I writing to impress? Am I writing to chastise someone I should really just talk to?
Posting here can build relationship or quickly become an idol factory, it can be creative or create a weird version of me. There are dangers and joys to using pretty much anything I think. But you know, I still love this space to plonk things I love, quotes I like and wibbly random thoughts. But I need to be wise. I find that hard. So. With more care. Blogging resumes. (Even if it’s just to give Mum something to read in the day..) Watch the pretty video. Watch.
“Most of us are crawling about in a stuffy attic, trying to explain life, demanding to be right, doing our best to relieve pain, and wondering where God is. It is time to find our way back to the living room and into our Father’s arms, where we can listen to his Spirit tell the story of Christ.”
“The world is too bad a place – and far too uncertain- to build a home and count on enjoying it. But it’s a perfect place to find God.”
Both from Larry Crabb- Finding God.
That last quote feels especially real tonight. In a world covered in snow, the white perfect beauty covering over the dark, we heard a story of brokenness and pain. The contrasts in this world are sometimes too much to bear. There is so much pain, how can we carry on? There is so much beauty how can we still breathe?
Breathless we stand and wait, breathless we realise again that this world is not our home. Breathless we wait, seeking the touch of Another in our lives, echoing through the silent streets of white beauty draws our hearts to more and we ache. We stand breathless and we ache.
Come Lord Jesus. Come.
The Long Walk Home 