You think I sing for joy

You think I sing for joy

When in reality, this song is my lifeline of hope;

Faith’s final stand against the onslaught of despair.

My lips keep moving long since my heart has stopped,

For only in silence will doubt become defeat.

You think I sing for joy

When in reality, this music is my marching song

For trudging on and on through dreary days.

Thirsting for the more abundant life:

Resigned to the rain, yet longing for the sun.

You think I sing for joy

For despite the gloom, guiding stars gleam.

Storms do not last with their overcast,

But as day follows night and season follows season

So comes the calm.

You think I sing for joy

For the depth of the Father’s forgiveness

Is matched only by the width of His love.

And in my weakness,

He is Strong.

You think I sing for joy

I do.

Bits of This and That

I have no grand/confusing ideas to discuss. I only have a couple of unconnected details about my current life.

I've been channeling my literary endeavours into my English course, which leaves few moments or meditations for my neglected blog. However, studying poetry has been highly enriching. In the process, I fell in love with E. Pauline Johnson's poems all over again. Forgive me for mentioning her once more, but she's a genius. Here's a link to my current favourite of hers, called "The Trail to Lillooet." Does anyone else want to travel to Lillooet?

Of historical note, did you know that William Shakespeare wrote his plays around the time of Henry Hudson's expeditions and Samuel de Champlain's establishment of Quebec? Which is exactly why I love history; I love discovering fascinating connections. And yes, I am studying a play of Shakespeare's. Hamlet to be precise. Perhaps I am more accustomed to his writing style, but I can actually make heads or tails out of this play.

Besides normal life, I've lived a bit of abnormal life. I was treated to a fantastic vacation in Alberta involving my cousins' weddings (as in there were two weddings, both involving cousins of mine ;). I got to fly! On an aeroplane! Flying shrinks my age 'til I feel like a little kid, except it lacks some of the thrill it once held. However, observing and learning new details nearly makes up for it. By now I have enough nerve to speak with the pilots as we disembark. One copilot's dazed reaction to a question left me wondering whether the question was surprisingly intelligent or especially stupid. Or perhaps he was simply distracted by his girlfriend's messages, for he had been using his cell phone. One can never be completely sure...

Of Age and Time

I thought I enjoyed aging. My impressions have told me that, for some people, aging is a fearful thing. I  never really understood and felt slightly alienated by the difference. 

For some people, childhood was a utopia; one long, carefree summer vacation. Life sprouted complexities during teenage years, but energy eloped with beauty, providing plenty of excitement. However, between young adulthood and seniorhood, something changes. Perhaps it's the mortgages and minivans. Whatever the case, old age appears as Hitler himself. Once again physical beauty has eloped. Even the eyes of the beholder struggle for a glimpse. Glasses are mistaken for protective, bullet-proof devices. Hair and hearing become endangered species, while original joints are altogether extinct. Teeth have attained the status of the stars: they come out at night. 

I don't anticipate diapers and denture glue; I simply view aging differently. Age is beautiful, for age brings wisdom. While physical beauty declines with age, wisdom only grows stronger and more beautiful each day.  Age provides wisdom to appreciate small things. Age provides wisdom to extract every ounce out of life. Age provides wisdom to live more fully.

Or so I thought. I'm not so certain now. You see, age also brings change. Sometimes change is fun; sometimes... it's not. Whether good or bad, life can never be the way it was.

I recently experienced a most curious encounter with time. I was wandering outside at night, under a beautifully clear sky. I raised my hand to obscure the rising moon, when I heard it: a steady tick... tick... tick. Irony of ironies, I thought. Lost in the unchanging timelessness of the heavens, I listened to single seconds silently slipping away - never to return.

"What day is it?" asked Pooh.

"It's Today," squeaked Piglet.

"My favourite day," said Pooh.

Swiss Cheese

...vowing that this one would be different. This blog wouldn't fizzle out like so many others. I would stick to it and continue posting. Only I didn't, as you can see. Hark! The sound of crunching as I eat my hollow words.

It hasn't been from lack on ideas. No, they have perpetually bubbled from the great artesian aquifer of Thought. Perhaps the abundance of ideas has churned into a marsh I dare not trust. Other things fill my days. Books to read, routes to ride, obligations to fill, and, of course, work. What would we do without work?

Not work, perhaps?

Ho, ho, so silly. Thank you, smarty pants.

Please excuse us for a moment.

Wouldn't it be wonderful to write full time? Devote every day to the craft, instead of only the spare moments. Forget about work. Hide away from annoying interruptions. Find a houseboat home. Enjoy writer's high - and writer's perspective - every day.

Writing is shockingly similar to painting. I prefer realism when it comes to painting, although I admire all styles (excepting cubism, of course). My limited experience has taught me that everything is never as it seems. Let's pretend we are painting a picture that contains a door. Everyone knows that doors have square corners. Okay, so let's ensure the door we are painting has square corners.

Except not so fast. Depending on the perspective, the door we are painting might have very un-square corners. Therefore, to create a realistic reproduction, we must paint exactly what we see - not what we think we see.

In writing, the picture becomes an idea and the paints become the words. The difficulty lies in "painting" the idea how it actually is, not how one thinks it is. The difficulty lies in choosing concise words that portray no more, no less, than the original. How often do figurative doors contain square corners, simply because I have
mis-chosen words.

Differences of perceptions always form; misperceptions always form. This is simply a product of perspective. Ironically - there is always a flip side - these differences and errors produce refreshing individual style, both in painting and writing. The artist's signature appears through the very inconsistencies of which they are unconscious. Yet the term "inconsistencies" is purely subjective. Who can rightly judge one perception as more nearly correct than another? However, when striving for excellence and all realism flees, humour covers a multitude of sins.

Back to the writing dream, I'm afraid it is an illusion. After all, a dream is purely a vacation from reality. To spend time in recluse is to cut oneself off from reality. And how could one portray - and discover - reality when they are isolated in an artificial world?

Dreams are fantastic, but I'm afraid this one is Swiss cheese - full of holes. Yet very well aged.

Good Day - Bad Day

Have you ever wished someone a bad week? No, I don’t mean to one of those people who make life difficult. I mean to a good friend. I haven’t either. But sometime, I just might.

Recently, one of my friends wished me a good week. I feel special that they cared enough to tell me. But it set my mind to turning. Suppose, just for once, we’d have a perfect week. Everything would run smoothly. We wouldn’t feel overwhelmed or overstressed. We’d get along with everyone perfectly. What a smashing week! Let’s have another one!  And so we would. And another and another and another. Some people might love it, some people might become bored, I’d say, “Where’s God?”

Cause I’m not perfect and I doubt you are (yet), so perfect weeks are beyond our realm. We may as well accept it: we’re going to face days that don’t run smoothly. We’re going to feel overwhelmed and overstressed. We won’t get along with everyone perfectly. What a smashing week – not in a good way.

So where is God in our lives? When tempers flare and words burn; when stress towers above us; when time denies us a slightly sane pace; when we jerk at the end of our rope. Is He standing off on the sidelines? Or is He in the thick of things, helping us, holding us? It’s our choice. Jesus says “My grace is sufficient for you: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)

Perhaps those dreadful days have a purpose. Perhaps stress is an invitation directly from Christ. Instead of trying to plow through on our own limited strength, God wants us to tap into His unlimited, unfathomable power. That is not to say the bad day will magically disappear. That is not to say the bad day will become a walk in the park. That is to say we will endure, for God will never stop helping and holding us. To the Almighty One, more stress for us means more strength from Him.

So do I dare? Yes! I think I do. I won’t go so far as to wish you a bad week. Instead, I hope you have a good week with a one or two bad days – so God can reveal Himself and His power to you and those around you.

Deep Riches

I was shutting down for the night, resting with my Bible in my hand, when a thought struck me: there's nothing like the Bible to put me to sleep. I reflected on this statement; comforted. Then the irony washed over me. As if! 

As if the Bible was light, superficial reading. As if the words of the Majestic One could bore my little mind. As if God's Book is the type that drones on and on until I drift into la la land. As if the Maker of the unimaginable could fail to tickle my finite imagination. As if! 

When I consider God's glory and unlimited power, I wonder how His Word could fail to inspire. Then I look at my weakness, and, well, you know how it goes. For if you are like me, not every verse is a rocket-ride revelation. If you are like me, the Bible lies within reach - and too often, stays there. Exciting things fill my mind. My computer keyboard becomes shiny and polished from use, while my Bible remains shiny and polished from lack of use. Maybe, maybe it is time for a new perspective of God's Word. Perhaps I could fill my mind with a different, singular Exciting Thing. 

I have a quick exercise for you. It will take but a second. Find your Bible and pick it up. Hold it for a moment. Just cradle it in your hands. Please be careful, for you are holding part of God. That binding, those thin pages, most importantly, the words - contain part of God! And since your Bible is in your hands anyway, I'll let you find the origin of this thought: the very first verse of John. Isn't it a miracle that God would trust us with something so precious? 

So, what about those times when God's Word seems rather, I don't know, stale? What do you do when God's love letter stops communicating His love? I'm afraid I haven't found a definite answer either. However, there seems to be a certain mystery about the Bible. After all, aren't God's ways higher than our ways; His thoughts higher than our thoughts? Yet "thus saith the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, whose name is Holy; I dwell in the high and holy place, with him also that is of a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones." (Isaiah 57:15) For "an highway shall be there...  for wayfaring men, though fools, shall not err therein." (Isaiah 35:8) 

God's Word doesn't have to be complicated. He made it for people like you and me. Read God's Word, because I think He wants and waits to talk to you. In fact, I think that He wants to talk to you so much, He can hardly wait for you to give Him some time. I also believe that in waiting - quietly - for Him, He will speak. Perhaps just a little is enough. For I've begun to view God's Word as the Israelite's manna in the desert: enough sustenance for one day. After that, we get to - get to - have some more. 

Jesus encourages us: "Ask and it shall be given you, seek and ye shall find. Knock and it shall be opened unto you." (Matthew 7:7) Read your Bible. Just start wherever. On second thought, I wouldn't recommend the lists of names in 1 & 2 Chronicles. Then again, knowing God and His surprises... So go, search out His ways. Hang on tightly! It's quite a ride as He reveals "the depth of the riches both of the knowledge and wisdom of God! [for] unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out!” (Romans 11:30) 

Irony of ironies, as God’s presence fills you, His Word just might lull you to sleep. Whether faith or doubt fill your mind, God's power does not change. Whether a storm is beating against your house or your heart, God’s promises remain the same. Rest in His loving words: “Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.” (Isaiah 41:10)

Your and My Romances

Are you enjoying your romance with God? Read it again: Your. Ro. Mance. With. God.

Romance stories aren't unfamiliar to any of us. Most likely, we've all imagined ourselves as one of the lovers in a book. Or perhaps you like someone particularly much. (Be honest with yourself ;) Your thoughts drift towards them. You worry about them, can't wait to talk to them, and wish to know them better. You desire to share their glowing laughter and sorrowing pain. They fascinate you, and if you could, you'd spend all day with them. Or perhaps the rest of your life.

Is this your perspective of God?

The Bible supplies us with plenty of analogies to our relationship with God and Jesus: Father, Brother, the Good Shepherd, Friend. It uses the analogy of a bride and bridegroom to the church and Jesus. But for God and you to be lovers?

You were honest before, so I'll be honest now. Like all relationships, my relationship with God has all manners of ups and downs. As much as I wish I could say there aren't any downs, I can't. One thing I can say, however: He has never been the one to drift away. A few other points. God doesn't need me to worry about Him. And while I haven't carried much of His sadness, He certainly has carried mine. I want to share His laughter and know Him better. I'm fascinated by His majesty, love, mercy, and wisdom. I- I think I'd like to spend the rest of my life with Him. I have a sneaking suspicion it won't be a boring romance.

Faded Rose

This is one of those "back-burner" thoughts. I've thought it strange that people would study a person that has died, finding out about their life, and maybe even idolizing them.

I've been thinking about my late grandfather, William Isaac. I have faint memories of him, but he died before I really got to know him. However, as I've gathered details of his life, I've become quite fascinated. And disappointed, too, that I couldn't have known him better. From what I've heard, he was different, and not in a bad way. He and Grandma always had time to listen to people. He was given first class service at the local china store because he would buy. He loved to give china to Grandma. He was an expert gardener. His favourite flower was a yellow rose; yellow because that was one colour that his colour-blindness didn't cheat him on. As Grandma's vision failed, he was the one that would cook for them. He replaced his Bibles not because he misused them or misplaced them, but because they actually wore out. 

I've found connections between his interests and my interests. I love skating, and my mom says that he was a wiz on skates. Biking was his favourite type of exercise, just as it is for me. I love to sing and so did he. He led songs until his hearing made it difficult to understand selections from the benches. He enjoyed writing and was a skilled writer, especially of poems. I find poetry difficult to conquer, but it doesn't stop me from enjoying writing. I think I get my "Isaac" walking posture from him as well. But best of all, he served the same God I do. By faith, I will see him again someday. 

Not surprisingly, people haven't mentioned his faults. I doubt he was faultless, but my fascination continues. So I want to say something to all of you that can still speak to your grandparents: get to know them, or get to know them better. And love them especially much for me.

More Questions Than Answers

"Hey, how are doing?

"Fine, and you?"

"Pretty good."

Really. 

It's a knee jerk reaction. Of course I'm fine, what else would I be? Everything is always "fine." There is no such thing as pain or sorrow or depression or confusion. Yeah, right. And nothing ever goes wrong, does it.

Have you ever told someone that your life is falling apart, or that you are depressed and you don't know why? Has anyone ever replied to you in that way? Why can't I look at things the way they really are and say things the way they really are? 

Sometimes I'm scared of myself. I used to think I had a pretty good idea of who I was. Right now I have no idea. Sure, I know my personality and my interests, but why do I react this way, when everyone else seems to react a different way? Why do I say the things I do?  Or more aptly, why don't I say the things I don't say? Lol. I really don't know, but I know Someone who does.

No, right now everything is not going perfectly. But I'm not worried. When I admit to a problem, God can work with it. When I admit I need help, I can accept help. Between God, the exquisite thoughts He sends,  prayers, and friends, it is impossible to not succeed.