partsofspeaking

I have not posted in a while; very involved in some personal matters, having January fatigue, and working on academic papers and presentations. It seems my Kallman's post is popular and I get a lot of hits from porn sites. To the extent I read more advanced theology, it seems that penal substitution has become a hot topic of debate. Since this is all that I was taught in my Christian development, it is strange to me that it is a "hot topic." How could the cross be interpreted any other way? Of course, it is, and has been, specifically as an example of suffering (not entirely wrong) or in other ways.  From this article in CT, https://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2019/january-february/eleonore-stump-atonement.html on a new book about atonement, the reviewer quotes the author: (what follows in red is quoted) According to interpretations of the Anselmian kind, what God does to act compatibly with his goodness or justice is in fact to fail to punish the guilty or to

An acquaintance put this on Facebook. So much of it applies to me. Church is hard. Church is hard for the person walking through the doors, afraid of judgment. Church is hard for the pastor’s family, under the microscope of an entire body. Church is hard for the prodigal soul returning home, broken and battered by the world. Church is hard for the girl who looks like she has it all together, but doesn’t. Church is hard for the couple who fought the entire ride to service. Church is hard for the single mom, surrounded by couples holding hands, and seemingly perfect families. Church is hard for the widow and widower with no invitation to lunch after service. Church is hard for the deacon with an estranged child. Church is hard for the person singing worship songs, overwhelmed by the weight of the lyrics. Church is hard for the man insecure in his role as a leader. Church is hard for the wife who longs to be led by a righteous man. Church is hard for the nursery volunteer w

Apparently a woman named Marie Kondo is getting her few minutes of fame because she's telling us on Netflix to throw away things that don't give you joy. Nonsense.  I put a higher value on joy than utility.  A better standard is whether you can use something more than someone else who might need it, or if you are holding on to something that is not useful.  Her definition of joy is not a Biblical one. I like this article: https://www.theguardian.com/books/2019/jan/07/what-we-gain-from-keeping-books-and-why-it-doesnt-need-to-be-joy-marie-kondo All my books give me joy, despite having not read half of them yet. As the writer points out, when we go into a person's house, we look at their bookshelf, not their sock drawer. Our gullibility is sort of discouraging, isn't it?

https://aeon.co/essays/the-blind-spot-of-science-is-the-neglect-of-lived-experience

I watched Winter Light by Ingmar Bergman today.  It's New Year's Day. Fabulous film. I noticed that it was beat for beat like the first half of First Reformed-- almost every plot point. The second half of First Reformed goes off in a weird direction; Paul Schrader should have stuck with the mimicking of the original, but it did make for a stunning viewing experience, if disturbing and surreal. It's not, of course, like film-making today. The hyperactivity of today's movies, everything short--the scenes, the cuts, the lines--is it a cause or an effect? Either way, this one is a thinking person's movie, especially since you're reading subtitles. It's not that the viewer empathizes directly with anyone; the pastor is too absorbed in his own misery; the lover is too self-effacing; the fisherman doesn't seem to have a reason to commit suicide when he has a family to take care of. But that's the point. These people feel these things legitimately ev

MORNING DEDICATION As I cross the threshold of this day I commit myself, soul, body, affairs, friends, to thy care; Watch over, keep, guide, direct, sanctify, bless me. Incline my heart to thy ways; Mould me wholly into the image of Jesus, as a potter forms clay; May my lips be a well-tuned harp to sound thy praise; Let those around see me living by thy Spirit, Trampling the world underfoot, Unconformed to lying vanities, Transformed by a renewed mind, Clad in the entire armour of God, Shining as a never-dimmed light, Showing holiness in all my doings, Let no evil this day soil my thoughts, words, hands. May I travel miry paths with a life pure from spot or stain. In neeedful transactions let my affection be in heaven, And my love soar upwards in flames of fires, My gaze fixed on unseen things, My eyes open to the emptines