Hard Work

Ah, work, that glorious, mind and muscle strengthening, fun... ok, maybe not. Work is not always what most people would call fun, but it has amazing benefits in the end. I am currently reading a book called Created for Work, by Bob Schultz. With crystal clarity and a style of writing accessible to the youngest boy yet deep enough for a grown man, Mr. Schultz attacks the idea that work is something that should be avoided and delves deeply into the benefits of it. In Genesis 2:15, "The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to work it and keep it." God calls us to work in the beginning of his Word. And what was Jesus' occupation? A carpenter, a worker of wood. Not exactly sitting on a couch playing a video game. Now I am as guilty as any other young man of my time in the amount of time I spend in front of a computer doing nothing, or something that has no eternal significance. So don't get me wrong. I'm not saying get rid of that stuff completely, I'm just saying let's not underestimate the power and joy of work instead of something like that. Haven't you ever got that wonderful feeling of a job well done? That's because we were made to work! Just think of how many retired men you know who have a hobby or love serving others with the skills they posses! We are called to work; let us fulfill that calling.

P.S. I will post soon on another amazing book I have read on this same subject, Do Hard Things, by Alex and Brett Harris

A Poem

Our country lies in dark,
But we wait for light,
Holding steadfast,
To the hope, born tonight.


Yet on and on the years roll by,
And the glimmer fades,
We are waiting for our King,
Who will return one day.


We are fighting for our land,
But we hope to come again,
To our homes, far away,
And leave behind the fen


I wrote this poem for a movie/story I was working on at the time (still plugging away at both!), and only later realized the parallels it has to the gospel story. I am so blessed to have a God who truly cares about me, and is always beside me. Soli Deo Gloria!

One Nation Under God

At present the only books I am reading are for school, particularly Passages of American History. But, history has always been something I love to read, so I'm not complaining. But at present we are going over the Declaration of Independence, something every citizen of American should do quite often. Every time I dig deeper into it, I find more and more evidence that our nation was built on the God we Christians believe in. Some would say that all the Founding Fathers were Deists; believers in a God who created the universe, then left it alone to run itself. Some were, particularly Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Jefferson, but many of the others were devout, strong Christians, who firmly believed in a God who controlled their destines, and who heard them when they prayed. Men like George Washington, John Adams, Patrick Henry and James Madison. So, if these men believed in an impersonal, distant, uncaring God, how could they have said with such conviction, "And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our scared Honor"?
And as one travels further forward in time, "In God We Trust" is printed on our coins, and the Pledge of Allegiance is written stating "One Nation, Under God, Indivisible."
Our country was founded on principles laid down in the Bible, and it is a sad thing to see our nation turning away from these principles. Suggestions have been made to change both the statements on our coins and in the Pledge of Allegiance. Where is our country headed?

God is the Gospel

Another book I received for Christmas was John Piper's God is the Gospel. In it he speaks of the gospel as being the good news about God. The gospel needs to be about God, and nothing else. All of the other good news the gospel provides means nothing without God. He asks the question, "If Christ were not in heaven, would you still be content to live there?" The answer should be a resounding "NO!" God should be the center of our lives, and what we are focused on throughout the day. The good news of the gospel is that God IS, that he exists and that he has rescued us from our sins. Think about it; if God were naught, then the rest of his gifts that the gospel tells us would about would not exist either. So, we must come to the conclusion, that the gospel, the good news, can be simply put "God is." That should be such good news that the rest of the gifts God gives are merely icing on the cake.

Thoughts...

While I have not been reading much lately, I received a book highlighting the architecture of Frank Loyd Wright for Christmas. A genius architect, to say the least, but a staunch supporter of the transcendentalism worldview. The transcendentalist movement believed in transcending themselves through perfection. In less technic terms, they could become all the God they needed by perfecting themselves. They also believed strongly in a capital "N" Nature, as a force with which they could attune themselves as they sought transcendence. Many poets and writers were transcendentalists, among them Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, Louisa May Alcott and Walt Whitman. 
I recently took an American Literature class, which covered the literature from the early colonists up till right before the Civil War. A good deal of what we read was this transcendentalism. On first glance it can seem quite true to Christianity, but a closer look reveals its virtual denial of God and its basis in the perfection of ourselves here on this earth, both of which are strictly in opposition to what we as Christians believe. It is important to know the lies of the enemy, so that we can act against them, and know them for what they are. As 1 John 4:1 says, "Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God, for many false prophets have gone out into the world."

Scritch Scratch...

Ahh, the sound of pen on paper. I have been rewriting the first section of Warrior in Grey, as I have already mentioned. Here is an excerpt showing what it was before and after. Hopefully you can see the change in style, as well as in proper grammer:

A few minutes later, they came upon a set of great iron doors. Daren stopped and gasped in amazement, not at the size of the doors, but at the huge creature that guarded them. Daren had never seen anything like it before, but he knew what it was, a Mandron, a giant armored gorilla, known for its low intelligence and immense strength. His armor consisted of bracers, shoulder blades, a helmet, and shin guards. A leather cuirass covered his chest and back.

The mandron soon noticed them, and stepped forward, brandishing its massive iron club. “Charge!” yelled Daren. This was the kind of fight he liked, even odds, and a fair chance of success. The mandron’s small brainpower quickly made itself apparent; the animal spent more time looking for his constantly moving opponents than actually fighting them. 

In the end, the mandron trapped Daren between himself and the door. The brute raised his club, and brought it down with all his force. But the mandron over-swung, and the club, instead of crushing Daren into matchwood, smashed into the doors with a resounding boom. The iron shivered, and when the mandron withdrew his club, a giant dent was seen in the gates. 

“Get him to do that a few more times, Daren, and we’ll be able to get inside!” Lanas shouted. 

The mandron, enraged, moved closer. Daren grabbed hold of the huge head of one of the many bolts that studded the doors. He pulled himself up, using the large bolt-heads as grips. He was about six feet above the ground when the mandron swung. As the club whistled toward him, he dropped, bending his legs to take the impact as he hit the ground. The club struck the doors and this time, the door buckled. The mandron, carried forward by the impetus of blow, also crashed into the doors, sending them smashing down. A thunderous bellow announced the mandron’s demise.

- - -

“Forward!” whispered Daren, hoarsely, and the small band began to sprint down the long hall. At the far end, an archway opened obliquely into a far larger hall. The torches here still flared brightly, and by their light Daren could see what he had hoped against hope he would not: the mandron of the Idikil dungeons.

The outlaws behind him froze. They had been told what to expect, but none of them had fully grasped the reality of it. Two huge iron-studded gates closed off the end of the hall, and in front of them stood the great beast, the like of which none of them had ever seen. Man-like it was, but covered in a black hair all over, with bowed legs and over-long arms. Even with its stooped back, its head was higher than two men standing on one another. Its face was a twisted form, with a leering grin, fat lips and tiny eyes. The beast was armored with large stiffened-leather plates that formed shoulder guards, bracers, and shin guards, along with a metal plate hung askew on its hairy belly. Its grotesque head was also partially covered in a strange mockery of a leathern helmet.

Daren looked sideways at Lanas, who nodded determinedly. They knew what they had to do.

“For KING and country!” cried Daren, and the little party rushed forward. The beast snorted, as if waking up from sleep.

Only half a moment had passed before the great iron club it carried was swinging through the air. It caught Lanas on the shoulder and hurled him against the wall. He lay for a moment stunned, and was barely able to roll away before the club smashed the stone on which he had been lying.

The next moments stayed with Daren forever; the dodging, the repeated crushing blows, one of his men crying out as the heavy club was brought down on his iron helmet and he crumpled beneath the overpowering blow, dead. How he himself had ended up between the mandron and the door, and only managed to throw himself on the ground before the heavy cudgel rammed into the heavy wooden door, inches above him. Splinters flew up, the great doors quivered, and a sudden thought had struck him. He had sprang to his feet, then dived through the mandron’s outspread legs as its weapon once again came smashing down on the door. The wood had bowed, and gaping cracks had suddenly sprung into life.

“One more time, Daren!” Lanas had shouted, then he himself had jumped in front of the mandron. The mandron had swung, but Lanas hadn’t been quick enough, and the club had caught him full on the chest, driving him into the door. 

The doors wrenched from their hinges, shattered into thousands of splinters, and the mandron pitched forward, carried forward by the momentum of its own blow.

“No!” Daren shouted. The monster landed heavily on Lana’s crumpled form, groaned and lay still. “Lanas!”