thegreatknock

So last night I dreamt I was moving through an enormous house with many rooms followed by many friends, and that we were seeking some extraordinary treasure or token to advance us in our cause (I don’t know the cause or exactly what the token would be–I think we none knew).  We had peered in room after room, finding all the typical items in great old houses: stately chairs, fireplaces, rugs, furnitures and clothings–and finally I opened one ancient oaken door to reveal instead a whole world beyond it!  Bright blue sky, fresh air…and instead of carpet, a fresh gree track of lawn led down a gentle slope from the threshold of the door, in a sort of lane perhaps thirty feet long.  To the left of this lane the space opened up to reveal a large shipping town a little distance away, with the seaside beyond it and below.  To the right of the grassy place at the bottom of the slope, it opened up to a muddy yard with patchy spots of green.  I led my friends down the slope and turned right to face the muddy tract.  I had the feeling that I had been here before, as in another dream, and the houseservant who was accompanying us told us in a low, eery voice that some who have come to this world of a room before, had met themselves and held dialogue there.  I was struck with a fear, knowing that such a conversation was a wicked thing.  In fact, I began to say to the servant, “Don’t you know that Judas conversed with himself in just such a way for three days before betraying the Christ?” (which idea I have no clue from whence it came) but the servant was not listening and began strangely to drone out some magical words I cannot here repeat, as if to summon the other Me in this strange dreamy world.  I cut him off sharply, for I would not speak with Myself, then picked up a stone and threw it into the muddy field.  From the spot where the stone landed there came not the dull thud of muddy earth but a sharp clank, as the stone struck upon the very treasure we were seeking in the house.  I knew our adventures now could continue…

Three great things about yesterday:

1. I became an uncle for a secound go-around (smile).  Kyle Austin made me an uncle first three years ago, and he’s as great as ever–only now he has a new role as big brother to (fanfare noises) Justin Magnus Ritterbush.  I know–Magnus!  How cool is that?  I guess a little of my eccentricity has rubbed off on my brother.  Don’t worry, Justin: in a few years, Lord willing, you’ll have cousins named Ransom Jack and Asher Burden, and then you’ll think your middle name downright normal compared with these (grin).

2. I believe my friends ValMoon and Brad the Fox were wedded somewhere down in the DR.  Which means last night was probably pretty darn crazy.  Oh, don’t give me that look!–we were all thinking it…

3. I discovered that my friend Matty and I have a peculiar talent–we are rainmakers.  Instead of the Native American dancing ritual, we need but go hiking and we can make a thunderous downpour appear out of nowhere.  Anytime we set our heart to climb up to Buzzard’s Point, we end up doused by precipitation (grin).  But I was very thankful–Matty is a darn good friend, you all should know, and I appreciate his wisdom and frankness.  Thanks for the talk, bro.

Okay, I’ll add one more: last night I thought about renting a movie or trying to find something to do, but decided at last just to sit down and read.  I wanted some adventurous tale to read, so I picked a few unknown novels off the shelves at my pad here and started into one: Jack London’s The Sea Wolf.  A hand-me-down from my parents’ bookshelves, I think, since there’s no McKay’s Used Bookstore sticker on it.  It’s really good thus far–well written, I have been quite impressed at the clarity of thought in it.  That Captain Wolf Larsen is one serious, godless, semi-crazy cat, let me tell you!  He’s a consistent atheist…anyone read it before?

In our study of Ephesians during the Precept Boot Camps, we investigated the several passages speaking of the Stone, the Living Stone, the Chief Cornerstone–the Christ! The primary passages for these are found in Psalm 118:22, Isaiah 8:13-15, Isaiah 28:16, Matthew 21:42-44, and Romans 9:30-33. Reading these, I composed this verse…

O Christ, our Chief Stone
both tested and precious–
Be Thou our standard
of Life and of Love!
Break us to pieces–
then, Spirit, come seal us:
Make us Your Dwelling-place,
ne’er to remove!

If you will allow me, I’ll share also a piece of my journal with you all. I pray it is not too personal! This is my journal entry from June 11, a Sunday morning in which long prayer led me to this heartfelt plea before the Lord:

6/11/06

In Your sanctuary sitting–
What, Lord, has my heart here brought?
Dread when joy is more befitting?
Fear when peace was dearly bought?

Might this poem become a hymn? Lord, in my spirit the words are true–You Who see my heart, know my attitude: I am relishing my discontent, I am longing to run away to search for You elsewhere, to find You in faces, eyes, hearts now unknown. Where would I go? Lord, You are everywhere! I would go, I am ever going to You. I would not, for Your Life, stand still for the sake of ease. May I run, Lord, and find You where I run?

Lord, the greatest passion I have ever felt in the Spirit rose within me when I was ministering to the believers both elderly and young in India–teaching from the Word. Now, Lord, I ask You–shall I always be looking back to those days and never pursue that passion more? I know that I am far fro ma perfect teacher, minister, or man…but, Jesus, I long like Spurgeon that You would light me on fire for the preaching and teaching of the Gospel! Burn me for it, even when I doubt! Mark me, seal me, release me…

And so I reach a boundary–for I cannot perceive how all You have given me in talents, passions, gifts or loves shall be fulfilled, employed, exercised and stretched-to-breaking in this place, this church. Imagination rings like a church-bell bellowing in a locked room, needing all the walls blasted away to ring loud in spacious places–and I fear that while the door remains locked and the walls stout, then I shall only see a piece of You as through a window, and in my life You shall be boxed, contained, having walls when You ought to explode in boundless glory! I want to know You boundless; I want to run and never find Your end! May I, Lord, run and find You unending and almighty, wherever my feet may go?

I feel tense like a dart fitted to the bow-string, awaiting release…but as I wait, these two things I will do: I will be devoted to You in obedience through prayer and reading the Word, that I might be near You, and I will reject comforts, deny myself ease and comfort while I live here, that I would know clearly that I do not remain for the sake of ease (for I know my casual temperament is tempted by such). These seem fitting resolutions–may it please You, Lord, to honour these by pointing where I will run!

This journal entry from June 11, the Lord is answering in ways strange but solid. Many praises to the living God…be eager, O my soul, and hunger and thirst for Him.

In our study of Ephesians during the Precept Boot Camps, we investigated the several passages speaking of the Stone, the Living Stone, the Chief Cornerstone–the Christ!  The primary passages for these  are found in Psalm 118:22, Isaiah 8:13-15, Isaiah 28:16, Matthew 21:42-44, and Romans 9:30-33.  Reading these, I composed this verse…

O Christ, our Chief Stone
    both tested and precious–
Be Thou our standard
    of Life and of Love!
Break us to pieces–
    then, Spirit, come seal us:
Make us Your Dwelling-place,
    ne’er to remove!

If you will allow me, I’ll share also a piece of my journal with you all.  I pray it is not too personal!  This is my journal entry from June 11, a Sunday morning in which long prayer led me to this heartfelt plea before the Lord:

6/11/06

In Your sanctuary sitting–
What, Lord, has my heart here brought?
Dread when joy is more befitting?
Fear when peace was dearly bought?

Might this poem become a hymn?  Lord, in my spirit the words are true–You Who see my heart, know my attitude: I am relishing my discontent, I am longing to run away to search for You elsewhere, to find You in faces, eyes, hearts now unknown.  Where would I go?  Lord, You are everywhere!  I would go, I am ever going to You.  I would not, for Your Life, stand still for the sake of ease.  May I run, Lord, and find You where I run?

Lord, the greatest passion I have ever felt in the Spirit rose within me when I was ministering to the believers both elderly and young in India–teaching from the Word.  Now, Lord, I ask You–shall I always be looking back to those days and never pursue that passion more?  I know that I am far from a perfect teacher, minister, or man…but, Jesus, I long like Spurgeon that You would light me on fire for the preaching and teaching of the Gospel!  Burn me for it, even when I doubt!  Mark me, seal me, release me…

And so I reach a boundary–for I cannot perceive how all You have given me in talents, passions, gifts or loves shall be fulfilled, employed, exercised and stretched-to-breaking in this place.  Imagination rings like a church-bell bellowing in a locked room, needing all the walls blasted away to ring loud in spacious places–and I fear that while the door remains locked and the walls stout, then I shall only see a piece of You as through a window, and in my life You shall be boxed, contained, having walls when You ought to explode in boundless glory!  I want to know You boundless; I want to run and never find Your end!  May I, Lord, run and find You unending and almighty, wherever my feet may go?

I feel tense like a dart fitted to the bow-string, awaiting release…but as I wait, these two things I will do: I will be devoted to You in obedience through prayer and reading the Word, that I might be near You, and I will reject comforts, deny myself ease and comfort while I live here, that I would know clearly that I do not remain for the sake of ease (for I know my casual temperament is tempted by such).  These seem fitting resolutions–may it please You, Lord, to honour these by pointing where I will run!


This journal entry from June 11, the Lord is answering in ways strange but solid.  Many praises to the living God…be eager, O my soul, and hunger and thirst for Him.

For some reason, I feel the need to write this:

This is the way of things.  Yet God shall have His way.

I almost wished only to have that as the entry, but to do such would likely cause some curiosity about my meaning, so I should say that I don’t know the full meaning and perhaps this is not meant only for myself but for some reader.  And I trust it encourages.  He has more than strength for you!  He has justice and keeps full measure of every wicked thing.  He has grace and love to show you, Daughter or Son.  Run hard and find that He is there.

Where am I now, and who? What face do I
Observe within the glass, which was not there
Before? And who the Artists which apply
The paint and chisel, this face to appear?
I scrutinise the hurt, confusion, doubt,
And see a little boy where yesterday
A man had been, a man who was about
His father’s happy business, come what may–
But now, some figure formed of human hands
Presents himself to me, uncertain of
The goodness and the grace by which men stand
Whose lives are typified by honest love–
I cannot comprehend him, nor he me,
This face I wish I were too blind to see…

I wrote this poem much earlier today, as I was sitting through morning meetings at work while my mind was, obviously, elsewhere.   I found myself grieving, sick at heart that I had so hurt someone as to ruin any friendship there.  This fed a feeling of loneliness and want of fellowship, so that at lunchtime I joined some coworkers at Qdoba, sat across from one sweet older woman with whom I work, and implored her (out of the blue, but she’s gentle enough not to respond with too much surprise) to simply tell me about Jesus.  I need encouragement, I said, so would you just tell me about Jesus right now?  And she did.  It was sweet.

The doubt and sadness bottled in the poem above, then, turned once more to a fierce determination that I would be near Him.  I drove my doubt to make me only more desperate for Christ, to see Him in His body and in me.  Hope rose.  All things are under His feet and subject to Him–all things!  All conversation, all ministry, all wounds and all healings, all gifts and all faults…there is no thing over which He is not supreme.

More encouragement came throughout the day, and even tonight–my mother shared with me today’s My Utmost:

These verses reveal the humiliation of being a Christian.  Naturally,
if a man does not hit back, it is because he is a coward; but
spiritually if a man does not hit back, it is a manifestation of the
Son of God in him.  When you are insulted, you must not only not resent
it, but make it an occasion to exhibit the Son of God.  You cannot
imitate the disposition of Jesus; it is either there or it is not.  To
the saint personal insult becomes the occasion of revealing the
incredible sweetness of the Lord Jesus.

The teaching of the Sermon on the Mount is not — Do your duty,
but — Do what is not your duty.  It is not your duty to go the second
mile, to turn the other cheek, but Jesus says if we are His disciples
we shall always do these things.  There will be no spirit of — “Oh,
well, I cannot do any more, I have been so misrepresented and
misunderstood.”  Every time I insist upon my rights, I hurt the Son of
God; whereas I can prevent Jesus from being hurt if I take the blow
myself.  That is the meaning of filling up that which is behind of the
afflictions of Christ.  The disciple realizes that it is his Lord’s
honour that is at stake in his life, not his own honour.

Such a wonderful reminder of the humility of our Lord, when the days have been full of bold speech of late.   Fewer words now, and may God in His grace bring about a new love as He does a new thing among us all.  O God, that it would be marvelous in our eyes, and our weak words would result in Your greater glory.  Not to us but to Your Name…

It has been, what, a month and days since last I wrote on here? Much has happened in this time, and I’ve been busied beyond the ability to chronicle here. And, in fact, much of my writing effort has gone into the final throes of the Why Know curriculum, which now is done. And so I write to you.

Where am I now, and who? What face do I
Observe within the glass, which was not there
Before? And who the Artists which apply
The paint and chisel, this face to appear?
I scrutinise the hurt, confusion, doubt,
And see a little boy where yesterday
A man had been, a man who was about
His father’s happy business, come what may–
But now, some figure formed of human hands
Presents himself to me, uncertain of
The goodness and the grace by which men stand
Whose lives are typified by honest love–
I cannot comprehend him, nor he me,
This face I wish I were too blind to see…

I probably ought to have written on here a few days ago, when my mood was lighter, but today I come with doubt and confusion. My chief fear is that I am not connected with the Body well right now, as I haven’t spent deep time with faithful friends for perhaps the past month. But this alongside so many changing things in my circumstances and life right now make me feel doubt.

And even as I write this–I know that I will allow my doubt to make me only more desperate for the power of the Holy Spirit within me. I am desperate for Christ, to see Him in His body and in me. May the strength of my confusion today be that strength which drives me toward Him.

Perhaps I will explain all these things more later, but for now this hope will do.

Sick!  They eat their young!

…it is finished.

The curriculum which I’ve been writing and revising and researching and editing and writing and writing some more…I do believe it’s done!  Now here it stands, a rough copy of it in all its 350+-page glory.  I’m pretty proud of it, to be honest (smile).

Oh, and happy Fourth to all.

Tonight a few fellows and I watched several hours of public television (or “state-run television,” depending on the country you live in).  We watched Nova talk about this science and that for awhile, and the thing which really struck me as we watched report after report was the reality that these sciences are built upon some kind of fear.  Tonight’s episode included reports about hurricanes and bird flu and stem cell research, among other things, and the philosophies so many of the scientists expressed in each of these fields of research struck me as only so much fear.   Here are a few paraphrases, including my own explanations in italics:

“We need to allow stem cell research for the sake of lengthening our lives on this earth, (even if we do complain about living half the time) because, despite our complaints, the thing we fear more than a terrible life is the darkness after death.”

“We measure the surface temperature of the oceans every three hours in our effort to understand hurricanes because we fear the awful power of these great storms which we cannot control and which we assume are uncontrolled.”

“We study the genetic language of killer viruses because we fear the pain and death they may bring.”

As I began to recognize just how much godless people fear, it became something you could even see in their eyes.  We muted the program and let the captions roll awhile, but you could still read fear within their eyes.  The may take sick pride in the things they believe they are learning about hurricanes or bird flu*, but the foundation of fear is still there.  And this makes me grieve.   How different all of these things would appear to the one who knows an Author of life, an Authority above all of these things.  So it seems to me.

Later as we watched a Frontline report on the gross abuse of power by President Robert Mugabe in Zimbabwe, I thought to myself how blessed are the meek who shall inherit the earth, and the poor in spirit whose kingdom is heaven.  What have we to fear?

*During the report on hurricanes, one scientist remarked, “We have always known that hurricanes operate in cycles…”  I could not but take issue with the use of the words “always” and “known.”  Clearly, they have not always known such things–neither they personally (they did not know these things when they were babes), nor the scientific community at large throughout any human history.  And, too, can they truly say they know a thing only because it has responded predictably for a limited period of time?  They do not understand the why behind it, why air should rapidly move at all, how any cycle would have begun initially, and so on–and none were there to report it.  The reality of how little they know should stagger them to humility…perhaps humble enough to cast eyes heavenward beyond creation to its Maker?  We pray.