"You are a king, then!" said Pilate.
Jesus answered, "You are right in saying I am a king. In fact, for this reason I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me."
"What is truth?" Pilate asked.
"Sometimes truth isn't good enough," Batman says. "Sometimes people deserve more. Sometimes people deserve to have their faith rewarded."
Question #1: What is the difference between faith and truth?
Question #2: What sort of confidence can a person have in a lie?
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Work
Farming probably won't be my lifetime career. However, for now it's pretty cool. This summer I have gotten to: pick rocks, stack hay bales, pound in fence posts, attach wire to said fence posts, drive an old truck around, mow the barnyard, dig a trench and bury wire in it, and (most recently) destroy thistles with a big piece of steel.
Thistles. Yuck. The electric fence we've been building goes through some horrendous patches of thistles about head-high and as thick as hair on a dog. Incidentally, it turns out that mosquitoes consider thistle patches to be prime real-estate, especially this time of year. Well, yesterday I was told to go thin out the thistles around the fence, so I grabbed the nearest goodly sized piece of steel rebar and went to work.
Nothing quite reminds a person of the Fall of Creation quite like an experience like that. Nature, made for our enjoyment, became an untamed force when sin entered the picture. It made me wonder, what was the original purpose of thistles? Did they exist before the Fall? What about mosquitoes? How about their original intent? I suppose I'll never know this side of eternity. Until then, I'll keep swinging my rebar; fighting entropy.
On an end note, happy birthday, America. Remember the God of your fathers.
Thistles. Yuck. The electric fence we've been building goes through some horrendous patches of thistles about head-high and as thick as hair on a dog. Incidentally, it turns out that mosquitoes consider thistle patches to be prime real-estate, especially this time of year. Well, yesterday I was told to go thin out the thistles around the fence, so I grabbed the nearest goodly sized piece of steel rebar and went to work.
Nothing quite reminds a person of the Fall of Creation quite like an experience like that. Nature, made for our enjoyment, became an untamed force when sin entered the picture. It made me wonder, what was the original purpose of thistles? Did they exist before the Fall? What about mosquitoes? How about their original intent? I suppose I'll never know this side of eternity. Until then, I'll keep swinging my rebar; fighting entropy.
On an end note, happy birthday, America. Remember the God of your fathers.
Monday, June 30, 2008
The Del Button
I just looked at my keyboard and noticed that I have a Del button. If only life had a Del (Tackett) button, and when you pushed it, an attractively winsome voice would give you a snippet of sound advice. I tried hitting it on my keyboard, but you guessed it, no voice. Siggies out.
Speaking of Del Tackett, when I was in his class at the Institute, he required us to memorize the hymn Holy, Holy, Holy. As of late, I've been thinking about the words to that song more and more. Tonight I was sitting by the campfire, and the words from the last verse echoed through my mind: All Thy works shall praise Thy name in earth and sky and sea. Over the constant hum in my ears (from shooting my big rifle last week), all was silent but the cracking fire and the chitter-chatter of crickets. The nearly-full orange moon crept up over the black horizon. And the fire kept on burning bright and steady.
...in earth and sky and sea...
I am a firm believer that if we take some time to shut our yaps, turn off the artificial light of the television, and go sit outside for awhile, we can catch a glimpse of God's works singing their praise songs to Him. As Jesus said, if we're silent, even the rocks will cry out. Sometimes we need to be alone to be reminded that they're still singing, and what a pity if they're singing louder than we are.
Speaking of Del Tackett, when I was in his class at the Institute, he required us to memorize the hymn Holy, Holy, Holy. As of late, I've been thinking about the words to that song more and more. Tonight I was sitting by the campfire, and the words from the last verse echoed through my mind: All Thy works shall praise Thy name in earth and sky and sea. Over the constant hum in my ears (from shooting my big rifle last week), all was silent but the cracking fire and the chitter-chatter of crickets. The nearly-full orange moon crept up over the black horizon. And the fire kept on burning bright and steady.
...in earth and sky and sea...
I am a firm believer that if we take some time to shut our yaps, turn off the artificial light of the television, and go sit outside for awhile, we can catch a glimpse of God's works singing their praise songs to Him. As Jesus said, if we're silent, even the rocks will cry out. Sometimes we need to be alone to be reminded that they're still singing, and what a pity if they're singing louder than we are.
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