Today's word

passim \PASS-im\ - here and there

You'll find words I've newly found or rediscovered sic passim here; this is one of the former.

Today's word

logy \LOH-ghee\ - marked by sluggishness and lack of vitality : groggy

Here is one that I knew (okay, was pretty sure) was a word, but when I (fairly recently) went to use it I was uncertain of myself, wasn't where I could look it up, and ended up substituting something like "lethargic" or "sluggish" for it.

An older poem

This poem is at least six years old, perhaps more (though this particular edit is mostly from summer of '09, with a couple fresh tweaks). I'd lost it until now because it was in an encrypted WordPerfect file that I had no way of opening until recently.  The darkest parts of it aren't usually applicable anymore, thanks to God and those who love me.


Confession
concluding with An unworthy sinner's prayer 

Across the continent and half an ocean
we met briefly, heart to heart, pain to pain.
Mistook, did I, compassion for emotion,
and clung to that which wasn't mine to gain.
You, recognizing that I'd lost my compass,
broke off the bond I'd wildly misconstrued.
Your comprehension of my life encompassed
the one who'd matter when I came unglued.

In old days they'd declare a nervous breakdown
when people hurt the ones who matter most,
but I lack such an alibi to put down
this railing against decency long lost.
Instead, I stand convicted of abusing
the trust of all who viewed me with respect.
At least I'm past unconsciously accusing,
unrecognized, deeply crushing regret.

I wish that you knew how I scarred my loved ones
with actions I can't utter in the light.
I doubt you'd benefit from such a summons;
be glad that you have put me far from sight.
I never will again look to your friendship
to take the place of her I finally love.
I've come to find within her treasured kinship
the partner of my life sent from above.

The time and tide have turned in ways I never
could have guessed would ever come to pass,
for some "for worses" stigmatize forever,
so I've stopped hoping your regard might last.
If you anticipated my great falling,
or sought to rectify my mental state,
please know that you had no hope of forestalling,
no way you could have ever changed my fate.

I grapple to believe an Advent's coming
that brings redemption e'en to such as me.
Self judgment is the beat my heart keeps drumming;
with millstone I've been cast into the sea.
No matter how well I know that forgiving
is why Christ came to earth, our souls to save,
I struggle to accept such cause for living.
Oh, how I long to occupy my grave.

I'll ne'er be able to unlade this disgrace,
though some might offer respite from the load.
'Tis mine to carry forward in the face of
whatever trials await along my road.
Imagining that your heart would fain reach out -
your faculty for love, exceptional -
instead my tortured soul just whispers out from
within this thinly veiled confessional.

Most likely, you'd advise me to seek refuge
from sources well equipped to salve my shame.
Indeed, two stints of such aid proved to be huge
in bringing self esteem back to my name.
Two decades worth of others' condemnation
of heinous crimes as I did perpetrate,
have reinforced my self-excoriation
for acts which good folk all abominate.

But worry not, for yet I find the Way to
take shelter from this storm of self hatred:
you helped restore me to the one who breaks through,
whose love anoints my undeserving head.
Now her acceptance and care keep me going
when I would rather give in to my curse
and drink my father's draught; I refuse, knowing
that yielding to despair would hurt them worse.

And so I sing this ballad never ending
in longing for an answer to my sin
that proves, in practice, capable of mending
a heart so utterly rent from within.
I give love, and as much as I am able,
I welcome merciful acceptance shared,
whilst knowing there will never be another
to whom my inner being I have bared.

I pray upon your fam'ly ev'ry blessing;
that perfect Providence and Grace abound -
I'm sure that God is to your home addressing
those priceless gifts of love that will astound -
and, just perhaps, if it can be, all learn from
the lessons other people's wounds impart;
may you, and those you love, not doubt nor turn from
the One who knows how best to tend each heart.

Today's word

rutilant \ROO-tuh-lunt\ - having a reddish glow

And in an almost complete reversal from yesterday, I knew all of the related words in today's write-up without knowing the actual WOTD.

Change one word. Please.

And when upon the cross He died
the wrath of God was satisfied. - Stuart Townsend, In Christ Alone

This is a great song, with which I have one quibble. Let's understand from the outset: I believe in the substitutional atonement. I'm just not sure that I believe the same things about it that other people who believe in the substitutional atonement do.

So when I hear people say things like "Jesus had to die to satisfy God's anger over our sin," I cringe. Maybe I'm wrong about this and misunderstand the nature of God. Certainly it's true that God is beyond our full comprehension. But I think that we'll inevitably misunderstand the motivation behind the historical blood sacrifice as atonement for sin so long as we insist on interpreting it according to how it was understood by those who lived in sacrificial times. Yes, Jesus did take the place that we deserve because of our sin, but to attribute that place as being due to the wrath of God represents yet another way in which we apply our own motivations to God.

When we sin, God doesn't get so angry at us that the only way to satisfy it for someone to pay with their lives; rather, I think that God gets angry for us, on our behalf as well as for the sake of those we've hurt, with a lamentation over what we have done that we too rarely enter into for ourselves.

Oh, I'm again falling short of conveying what is in my mind.

I believe that, when we die, we will see each thought and act of our lives as God sees them, and we will be deeply ashamed, knowing to the depths of our soul that we are not fit to enter into God's perfect presence. At that time, Jesus will remind us that he has given himself in our place, and welcome us home.

If I don't believe, exactly, that Jesus died to fulfill the ancient covenant and satisfy God's wrath, what do I believe? I think it's possible that God established the ancient covenant so that we would have the slightest hope of recognizing Jesus' fulfillment of it and responding to the love God has shown! What difference would the crucifixion of one man make for us if we were unable to recognize him as God's own Son fulfilling all that we know and that remains hidden?

There is so much more to be said about what Jesus has done for us that I should probably spend the rest of my life writing about this and nothing else. But to come back to the thought that prompted this post: I wouldn't feel that I must remain silent on this one line of this song that I otherwise love if it instead indicated that the plan of God was satisfied.

For I am His and He is mine
Bought with the precious blood of Christ

Today's words

Today's WOTD was quite familiar, but several related words were new:

afflatus \ə-ˈflā-təs, a-\ - a divine imparting of knowledge or power :  inspiration

insufflation \ˌin(t)-sə-ˈflā-shən, in-ˌsə-ˈflā-\ - an act or the action of blowing on, into, or in: as  a) a Christian ceremonial rite of exorcism performed by breathing on a person  b)  the act of blowing something (as a gas, powder, or vapor) into a body cavity

¹flageolet \ˌfla-jə-ˈlet, -ˈlā\ - a small fipple flute resembling the treble recorder

Fishers of men

Sorry, we cannot help you. 
We have no time for journeys. 
We are fishermen!
Journeys are just for dreamers, 
and dreamers do not catch fish, 
they just catch trouble, friend, 
and meet an ugly end! - Marty Haugen, The Song of Mark

I was a little disappointed that the call of the disciples was ignored today in lieu of discussing the kingdom of heaven. But not much. I'd think you could talk about both, right?

Zebulun and Naphtali . . . the people who walked in darkness have seen a great light. Fishermen, toiling daily for their sustenance, might not have considered whether they should ever hope for a greater plan. We tend to consider labor as drudgery rather than a gift from God to us; when it is the latter, whatever darkness might otherwise mark our daily efforts (in our seemingly distant outposts) is dispersed by the light of the greater purpose which calls us to them. Then we find that the kingdom of heaven is indeed at hand for us.

This is true for us even when our greatest labor is to live as we are called.

The strangest inspiration

Tuesday a week ago was the roughest evening I've had in some time. We'd cancelled our prayer meeting the week before because of weather, and had lost the two previous meetings due to the holidays, so it had been four weeks since I'd been to prayer group. Over almost three decades this has become one of my greatest sources of perspective and growth. No matter how much praying on my own I might be doing, I soon feel out of touch with God if I am not involved in praise and worship. As we gather together to praise God and open our hearts to him, submitting to the Spirit's movement in scripture and prophecy, and then break open the upcoming Sunday's gospel reading, I find insight into my life that I don't get in any other context. My personal prayer time draws nourishment from this weekly time; indeed, my entire walk is strengthened. Even though I receive Jesus himself in Eucharist, weekly Mass doesn't provide all that I need to sustain my journey. On the one hand, Jesus is everything, and there should be no "other hand." On the other hand, God has formed this one part of my spirituality to be filled by a different form of worship. Don't get me wrong, prayer group is no substitute for the Eucharist, which I expect I would similarly feel starved - probably quicker - without. But I never go more than a week without attending Mass. Ideally, each Eucharistic celebration would incorporate praise and worship and reflection and the spiritual gifts in addition to the physical presence of Christ. So while I wouldn't choose charismatic worship over receiving Jesus' sacred Body and Blood, it is nonetheless an important element of my faith walk, and I had very much been missing it. The other regular opportunity that I've had to lead praise and worship, prior to the first Friday evening Mass, had also been cancelled due to weather.

So last Tuesday my tank was running empty, and I was so glad to be getting back where I needed to be. I was on my way into the kitchen to kiss my wife goodbye when she brought up a faux pas I'd made earlier in the day. After a long history we had agreed that I wouldn't correct her online anymore, yet without thinking I'd told a younger friend what she'd meant to say on a birthday post, which contained a Swype-induced error that wouldn't have necessarily been obvious to the recipient. I didn't even consider it a correction of a mistake. My wife, on the other hand, very clearly did, and asked me again as I was leaving to please stop correcting her online. I immediately knew what she was referring to, and it seemed so minor and nit-picky an offense - although clearly a repeat infraction - that I felt attacked, and so I over-reacted terribly. (That may be as much of an understatement as one can have over a mere two words.)

Well, after that I was definitely not in any frame of mind nor state of peace to lead worship. This was clearly a case of if you there recall that your brother has something against you (Mt 5: 23), and I needed to resolve that before I could make an offering of praise. I stuck my head in at prayer group long enough to explain that I couldn't stay, and went back home to try to deal with things with my bride. 

My wife was understandably and unmistakably not ready to reconcile with me over this. I wouldn't have been, either, in her shoes, and to my credit I realized this in the moment, upset with myself and determined to respect her need for time and space. I sat in the living room while she finished what she was working on in the kitchen, and remained there for some time after she retired to the spare room where she has been watching t.v. during the colder weather. Finally I went downstairs, where I laid upon the sofa in the dark, not wanting to distract myself with the television or other entertainment. A few hours later as my wife was preparing to retire to bed, she came partway down the steps to ask me if I intended to sleep where I was. It is very rare for us to go to bed without reconciling, yet her annoyance was still obvious in her tone of voice. I really didn't know how to bridge the gap between us in that moment, so I replied that since she clearly hadn't wanted to be in my company, I'd thought I would stay where I was. Normally she would have made an overture at that point that would serve as an opportunity to talk about things, at least briefly, but she simply wasn't up to it yet. 

By this point I was feeling hurt by her rejection as much as I was upset with myself for causing it. I was on very unfamiliar ground, as I didn't feel at all confident that just waking up in the morning was going to provide some magical or inspired insight into how to bridge the gap between us. I just continued to lie there and try to sleep, without much success.

After a while I began to hear a noise from upstairs. It was clearly not my wife; I'd have heard her footfalls starting from back down the hall in our bedroom. I soon realized that it was our dog, who usually spends the night on the living room sofa. We block his access to the family room when no one is home and at night, as he has a history of accidents down there at these times. The gate we installed at the top of the stairs sufficed for several years, but within the past year he has figured out that he can squeeze through the bars of the railing, which we've started blocking with one of my guitar cases. Usually this does the job, unless something really gets his attention, such as the house being under attack by the Evil Mail Carrier. In such dire circumstances he has learned to nuzzle the guitar case out of the way so that he can squeeze through the railing. I began to suspect that my unprecedented presence downstairs at night in the dark was motivating him to try to join me. Sure enough, within a couple of minutes I felt him jump up onto the sofa with me and curl up behind my knees.

I was struck by his determination. In the moment I probably anthropomorphized a bit - as much as I love our dog, I probably don't understand the canine mind quite enough to get what was really driving him, aside from his desire to be with his pack if that was at all within his ability. It seemed to me that he had been singularly determined to overcome whatever obstacles there might have been to his being with me.

And I felt chagrined. I knew right away that he was a nobler dog than me. Shouldn't I have been more determined to overcome whatever obstacles I needed to, to do whatever was within my power to resolve things with my bride - especially when I had been the one to so exacerbate our disagreement - and be with the woman who has loved me through hell and back for three decades? 

Inspired, I got up from the sofa went upstairs, sat on the edge of the bed for a couple minutes before laying down across my side of it and putting my head on her hip. After a minute the weight of my skull became uncomfortable and she lightly batted at my head, then realized it was me and apologized. We didn't exactly talk things through in that moment, but it was clear that we both wanted us both to be there, to be together, to be our couple-self. That was good enough for the moment. 

It was still not a very good night's sleep thereafter, but I couldn't bring myself to banish our dog back to his place in the living room when he'd been such an example for me.

And seeing as prayer group was "weathered out" again this week, I'm going to be especially careful between now and next Tuesday!

Today's word

acephalous \ay-SEF-uh-lus\ - 1. lacking a head or having the head reduced  2. lacking a governing head or chief

A new word for me, but I knew its first meaning as soon as I saw the word, and would have definitely understood the second meaning had I encountered the word in that context.

August 16, 1977

When I was growing up, it seemed as if all of my friends had been to Ocean City at least once. For many of them, trips over to the Eastern Shore were a regular part of their summer. But this was something that my family never did, and it somehow felt like one of the more disappointing omissions from my childhood. I'd finally seen the ocean by the summer of 1975, when my mom, sister and I spent several weeks traveling the southeast quarter of the country, including a visit with family in Jacksonville Beach. But there was something in the reverential way that my peers referred to Ocean City that made it still seem like something magical was missing from my life. Even those who insisted that Rehoboth Beach or the Outer Banks were better seemed to take it for granted that Ocean City experiences were part of being normal.

I'm a 12-year product of Catholic schools, so naturally in high school I became friends with kids from other parishes. I had not fit in very well in my own grade school, and therefor had not gotten involved in the Catholic Youth Organization activities that always seemed like they were for more popular kids. I know now that this was largely my perception rather than reality, but there are two ways CYO touches on this tale. First, CYO trips were one of the means by which my peers had occasionally visited Ocean City, underscoring my experience of both not fitting in and not doing this thing that was part of all of the other (cooler) kids' lives. And ironically, a CYO trip with a nearby parish became the way I made my first sojourn there, as well.

It was late in the summer before my senior year, and one of my high school friends was an officer (president? secretary?) in his CYO. They apparently had an Ocean City bus trip planned for which they'd had a rather underwhelming response, and there was a lot of room on the bus, so I received an early-morning last-minute call asking if I'd like to go. I was pleasantly surprised when my normally protective mom gave the okay; either my sister was old enough to be on her own for the day while mom worked or she had other plans for hanging out with a friend. This easing of mom's cautiousness would have disastrous ramifications before the year was over, but it worked out well for me on this day.

I think I my best friend may have gone along that day, too, but I don't remember that part for certain. I remember doing rides, playing arcade games, hanging out near the south end of the boardwalk, having lunch at a (King Arthur? Robin Hood?) themed smorgasbord, all of the souvenir shops which were starting to lower their prices to move their merchandise before the end of the season. About an hour or so before we were to meet back at the bus for the (then) three-hour drive back, the skies suddenly opened with a tremendous downpour. I think that my flip-flops may have given out as I ran through the deluge. I was completely drenched, and the cloudburst brought temporarily cooler temperatures, too, so I was uncomfortably chilled. I remember examining my wallet, trying to figure out if I was going to have to replace it. The storm passed quickly.

Looking up through the bus windows I saw a vision that has stuck with me ever since. There on the street corner was a middle aged man - way younger than I am now, of course - with his shirt unbuttoned, his long, black hair soaking wet from the storm and hanging down to his shoulders, leaving an impression like smeared mascara. I don't know, maybe he really was wearing face makeup that had run in the rain, but that's probably just the impression I'm left with from his stringy, wet, black hair. I think my first visit to Greenwich Village that fall may have been the first time I actually saw a guy in makeup. But I guess I'll never forget how this man's face was unabashedly racked with sorrow as he sobbed and wailed and cried, all while cradling in his left arm a black velvet portrait of Elvis Presley.

And that is how I discovered that Elvis had died.

Today's words

jennet \ˈhe-nā, ˈje-nət\ - 1. a small Spanish horse  2a.  a female donkey  b. hinny

I'd never heard of this word before today.

²sulky - a light 2-wheeled vehicle (as for harness racing) having a seat for the driver only and usually no body

Nor this one.

Rocky Mountain High - no thanks

"But you know who really should smoke/eat weed? Cranky old guys whom life has turned bitter. It would do wonders for your outlook . . . " - A pot advocate replying to an otherwise left-of-center columnist who suggested (outside of his main thesis, which was that we really should revisit tighter restrictions on the business model of tobacco, the only known product known to kill such a high percentage of customers when they use it as intended) that maybe everybody shouldn't run out and get high as soon as it's legal.

Really? Light up and lighten up, man? That's the best you've got for advocating for your position? If "whom life has turned bitter" means "whom life has taught that getting stoned isn't such a great aspiration," I'm glad to count myself among the bitter. Surprise: a guy whose abuser used my youthful affinity for weed to elevate my suggestibility, so that he could push me beyond the boundaries of my vulnerability over and over again, has grown up (old) to become not such a fan of pot! Oh, and let's not forget to add in the experience of later burying my sister because of drugs and always wondering how much my own experimentation affected her. Even in the absence of these extreme repercussions, my life has never been all that it should have been, largely because of the years that I was more interested in getting high than in growing into the person I should be and living up to my potential. So, no, I'm never going to have a favorable opinion of your recreational drug of choice.

But feel free to go crawl back into your bowl, keep evaluating the world through the haze, and scoffing at people who have good reasons for staying away from that crap.

(Sorry, that last part is clearly a little bitter, but you don't seem open to any other suggestion, so there you go.)

Today's words

orchidaceous \ˌôr-kə-'dā-shəs\ - 1. of, relating to, or resembling the orchids 2. showy, ostentatious

This was linked as a synonym for today's WOTD, which was the last word of the definition above. It turns out that the link to this synonymous word was more interesting to me than the rest of the Did You Know? write-up. I was already familiar with the subtle differences between the words it discussed, but had never heard of this other one. Had I seen it standing alone I might have guessed at the first meaning, but would have needed quite a bit of context to get the second one.

atticism (often capitalized) \ˈa-tə-ˌsi-zəm\ - 1. a witty or well-turned phrase  2.  a characteristic feature of Attic Greek occurring in another language or dialect

This word from today's Dictionary Devil puzzle was a new one for me, and even given the second definition, my knowledge of ancient Greece was insufficient to connect the etymological stepping stones to this word. The first sentence of this Wikipedia write-up resolved that confusion.

I lift up my eyes to the hills

Though I'm not sharing the details of it, this is a specific, practical observation, not a general one: I am making a decision, right now, between what I should do and what I want to do in this next half hour. And just having this place to write about it is helping me to make the decision that is better for me, and I think that would be true even were I not to publish this post.

More snippets

They can see that he's just a fool

If the thorn of a rose is the thorn in your side
Then you're better off dead if you haven't yet died

Hmm, that one's a little dark; better end with something brighter:

Bearing each hurt and betrayal, returning forgiveness and peace

(okay, it probably isn't fair to use an original snippet, but there you have it.)

Today's word

chinoiserie \sheen-wah-zuh-REE\ - a style in art (as in decoration) reflecting Chinese qualities or motifs; also : an object or decoration in this style

Yep, this one makes sense. But if I ever encounter it again, I'm sure to misplace the accent on the second syllable rather than at the end where it belongs.

A snippet that made me go, "Really??"

Jimmy Dean covered Standing in the Need of Prayer?  I did not know that.

Another snippet or two

We all need somebody to lean on

Could it be that questions tell us more than answers ever do?

Poor write up

Okay, perhaps the word which became "belfrey" - the original "berfrey" - did not derive from the word "bell," as indicated in the first sentence in today's WOTD write-up. This was actually an interesting etymological lesson. But as the author goes on to explain how the word "bell" had a direct influence on the transition between the original word and the modern one, the first sentence of this Did You Know? write-up is revealed to be inaccurate. Simply including the word "originally" in this first sentence would have made it better.

Growing older is a fascinating process

I was noticing that my password expires on my mother's and oldest grandson's birthday. He was born on her 60th birthday, so I always know how old my mom would have been if she were still alive based on how old my grandson is.

This morning, that process broke, in my mind, albeit briefly. When I came up with what my mom's age would be, my brain balked for a moment. It took a moment of recalculating against her birth year for me to figure out what had happened: I'd somehow lopped three years off of my oldest grandson's life.

This annoys me on multiple levels. Mostly, it bothers me that I'm old enough for that sort of thing tostart happening, and by "that sort of thing" I mean my mind thinking that my descendants must be that much younger than they are.

(Okay, maybe it would have been more honest to use a different f-word for the post title.)

Today's words

pellucid \pə-ˈlü-səd\ - very clear

Once upon a time, I knew this word.

fastuous \ˈfas-chə-wəs\ - 1.  haughty, arrogant  2. ostentatious, showy

I'm not sure I ever knew this one, though. 

Also, we'll see how this type of pronunciation works out; the angle-bracketed example usages didn't work, since html reserves the angle-bracket symbols.

Long day

Good day, mind you, but long. Started off feeling like I didn't want to be any of the places I had to be today. Turned out that none of them did much of anything to make me feel otherwise about them, but each provided an opportunity to profess something that I needed to hear myself say. All-in-all, it was a good day to persevere through.

Today's word

There's some interesting etymology with which I wasn't familiar behind today's very familiar WOTD.

Lonely days, lonely nights.
Where would I be without my woman? - the BeeGees

Punatic wanna-be

Today's word

plastron \PLASS-trun\ - 1a. a metal breastplate formerly worn under the hauberk  b. a quilted pad worn in fencing practice to protect the chest, waist, and the side on which the weapon is held  2. the ventral part of the shell of a tortoise or turtle  3a. a trimming like a bib for a woman's dress  b. a man's separate or detachable shirtfront

The second definition was provided in the WOTD quick link on the  home page, so I guessed that maybe the other senses of this (new, for me) word developed from this one. The full write-up says otherwise.

Today's words

tesseract \'TESS-sir-act\ - the four-dimensional analogue of a cube

A great word. that I should have known already. According to Wikipedia, the spherical equivalent is called a glome and the n-space generalization of this is an n-sphere or hypersphere. (I'm sure that in my younger days I could have stuck with this article to the end without my eyes glazing over. Sometimes I mourn parts of me that I have lost.)

ensorcell \in-SOR-suhl\ - bewitch, enchant

Chased to the dictionary by two separate BCS-related articles on one morning. Cool. (Who says following sports is a total waste of time?)  This one makes sense from the shared root with sorcery.

Balance

Ideally, I'd have multiple daily prayer times with reading and reflection in one and quiet soaking in God's presence in another. In practice, I'm doing well when I manage any consistency at all in having one daily prayer time. Of course, many opportunities arise in the course of the day to offer intercession for the needs of friends and family members - such as this morning when a close friend is burying his brother.

Without the regular reading and reflection time, my prayer time can become aimless and fail to provide growth. Without the personal quiet time, my reflection can lose focus and fail to provide growth. But on mornings like this one, when I have been reading and reflecting regularly, instead of getting distracted during my quiet time and failing to be honest with myself and with God, I was able to humbly place myself before him with all my failings and limitations and be reminded that what is required of me is to be still, and to know that God is Lord of my life and that I am not.

Whether this makes any real difference in my life - for instance, whether I become more fully transformed by grace and God's light shines through me any more unhindered by me - remains to be seen. I'm trying to be cautious and aware without being skeptical or discouraged.

Today's word

mimesis \muh-MEE-sis\ - imitation, mimicry

Here's a new one on me. It makes sense from the roots, though.

A Beatitude

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. I have a hard time sometimes, Lord, wanting what I believe you want for me. Help me to trust you more fully concerning how the world works, so that my hungering and thirsting are more like yours.

Spoiling the broth

Do Not ask me if I'm sure the fish that I've taken out of the oven is done and then - immediately after I answer - check it "just to see what it looks like," unless you're ready take over the cooking.

A young friend

This young man we've known since infancy, Lord? Please keep hold of him. I know he doesn't want you to right now, Lord, but I also know he is in the grip of the drugs and his other life choices. We stand with his parents in lifting him up before you and entrusting him to your care. Please do whatever it takes to bring him back from the edge.

I'm afraid he hasn't hit bottom yet, Lord. I'm afraid that's what it will take. But you will be with him all the way, Lord. Safeguard him, and those who love him. We trust you.

it's one of those days

it's one of those days
when every thought
every feeling
every moment
is confirmation
that i can't deny
i, a living lie
am living a lie
fraud fraud fraud fraud fraud
my mind accuses
all i have to give
not what it should be
when this one is gone
you must find one who
can love you for you
dissatisfaction
sin my distraction
(avoided of late)
living for others
dialing for dollars

a grateful heart beats
out an antidote
is one within me?

I am weak

My own struggles with purity of thought are bad enough, and I generally keep them to myself except for discussing them as appropriate with those to whom I am accountable - chiefly my wife and a couple close friends. I'll never know, of course, how weak I would be in this area without my abusers' influence in my life, particularly (his). But I think it would border on doubly sinful - blaming my own sinfulness on others: "That woman who you put here made me do it;" "That serpent made me do it." - to dismiss my own struggles as merely a byproduct of the things they (he) did to me. Whatever the causes, even wanting to be the person I am called to be is sometimes a struggle for me, and that is my own sinful nature to deal with.

Perhaps it is because they are not as weak in this area as I am that some of my fellow believers share and like (on social networks) so many things that I have to reject immediately in order to keep my own thoughts from conforming to the sexually-indulgent spirit of this age. I guess I'm glad for them, though, that they don't have to do battle against this weak spot that is my. persistent. thorn.

More from Augustine on what this feast means

What man knows all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge hidden in Christ, concealed in the poverty of his flesh? . . . How great are the blessings of his goodness which he reserves for those who fear him and shows to those who hope in him? Until he gives them to us in their plenitude, we can have only the faintest conception of them . . . from a sermon by St. Augustine, bishop

No matter how much we think we know God, on this earth we remain mortal, finite beings trying to understand the eternal, infinite maker of all things. We try to understand God's love and God's motives in terms of our own, because we have been told that we are made in his image and likeness, and yet our limited time, knowledge and power and our profound selfishness fundamentally distort our experience of love. Thus we reject God because he doesn't do what we think we would do if we were endowed with infinite love, knowledge and power, and if we were unbound by time as God is. If we consider more closely the things that we say we would do (better, of course) in God's place, our stated choices would invariably contravene the free will which he has bestowed on us, unhindered by any fear of us and motivated by a love for us which is greater than we can understand.

. . . but to enable us to receive them, he who in his divine is the equal of the Father assumed the condition of a slave and became like us, and so restored to us our likeness to God. The only Son of God became son of man to make many men sons of God.  

And, again, St. Augustine leads us to the true miracle of Christmas. Too often we focus on the manger, shepherd, angels and wise men, and fail to consider what it means for the eternal Son to become a mortal son. That may be best. Even the most faith-filled mind struggles to understand how such a thing can be. But let us not forget the reason: not just a baby born two thousand years ago, but our own adoption and transformation into what would otherwise always be beyond us.

Today's words

abecedarian \ay-bee-see-DAIR-ee-un\ 1a. of or relating to the alphabet
b. alphabetically arranged  2. rudimentary

I knew 1b for certain, was pretty sure 1a applied, and 2 makes sense based on 1. And this seems a somewhat appropriate word to start the year with, as well. 

saltatorial \sal-tuh-TOR-ee-uhl; sahl-\ - relating to, marked by, or adapted for leaping

This one from the Dictionary Devil puzzle comes a day ahead of those ten saltatorial lords . . .

Daily Christmas

In the very act in which we are reverencing the birth of our Savior, we are also celebrating our own new birth. For the birth of Christ is the origin of the Christian people; and the birthday of the head is also the birthday of the body. - from a sermon by Saint Leo the Great, pope

We may generally consider Pentecost as the "birthday of the church," but in the eternal scheme of things there is probably no single event of Jesus' earthly life which by itself represents the beginning of our life in him. There may be a single point in our own lives to which we might point as our conversion experience - that is certainly the case for me - yet many of us can also identify ways in which God was already at work in our lives preparing us to accept him as our Lord and Savior. So each of the historical events in Jesus' life that have significance for us can be celebrated with reverence for their connection with the life of Christ within us, without which we need not bother celebrating any of them! Saint Leo continues:

For every believer regenerated in Christ, no matter in what part of the whole world he may be, breaks with that ancient way of life that derives from original sin, and by rebirth is transformed into a new man. Henceforth he is reckoned to be of the stock, not of his earthly father, but of Christ, who became Son of Man precisely that men could become sons of God; for unless in humility he had come down to us, none of us by our own merits could ever go up to him.

There are at least two parts of that last sentence that I feel as if I should spend a little attention on. I believe I'll address that latter one first. The modern rejection of the concept of substitutional atonement seems to reduce Christ to the role of teacher revealing the way to God, rather than Christ actually being the only Way himself. All we need, some suggest, is to follow his example. They reject as quaint and outdated the concept that we are born into a kingdom in which our sinfulness is the central truth of our existence and transferred to the kingdom of God by the grace that flows from Jesus' life, death and resurrection. I believe that our rejection of this concept is a great hindrance to our effective preaching of the gospel. 

Our being the stock of Christ rather than our earthly heritage is a truth that comes to greater fulfillment as we walk with him throughout our lives. It isn't that we're saved a little at a time, or gain our new heritage little by little, but it is often true that we are transformed in it through a lifelong process of growth. For the longest time following my own conversion I continued to act in - and experience the impact of - the earthly influences that abounded in my youth and early adulthood. I did not know all the ways that my former nature had its roots still sunk into me, if you will, and I often nurtured those roots either intentionally or unwittingly. It is good for us to take stock of our stock, and to allow the Holy Spirit to reveal those ways in which we must continue to grow into our new heritage and kill off our old one.

This Christmas rebirth which we celebrate is not a singular historical event in Jesus' earthly life nor in our own. Rather, we should seek to embrace our rebirth each day so that its roots may kill off what remains of our old ones.

Someone else's resolution

We have a relative who has realized that he has been making his life decisions with an attitude toward pleasing everyone else, and is determined to turn that around this year. That can be a healthy approach or an unhealthy one. With this - as with most of life - there can be "abuses" in both directions. I am not assuming that this relative is swinging from one to the other, or that he has ever been prone to either, as I make use of the opportunity he has provided to reflect anew on this idea.

There are a lot of experiences in our lives that can prompt us to become "pleasers," and I have intimate familiarity with a couple of them, though without this particular dysfunction arising as a result. Different dysfunctions can develop out of similar causes, and the same influences that can prevent some people from finding affirmation except in others' approval also leads other people to be unable to relate to others' feelings and become self-centered, controlling or abusive.

To thine own self be true, advises Polonius in a lengthy and hasty dispensation of advice to his son Laertes as he prepares an urgent departure in Hamlet. While there is debate over the nature of Polonius' character, I believe his advice to his son to be well-intended and frequently misunderstood. To me, this maxim more properly applies to the same concept as Dale Winslow's poem, popular in the sporting world, The Guy in the Glass.  Unfortunately, too many people apply this in another direction: do what pleases you.

So I hope our relative will makes his decisions rooted in respect himself for himself and others - as he has always seemed to do - and a desire to become the best version of himself, and that I will strive to do the same.