Purity brings clarity of mind
Purity brings protection of body.
random question: What is the meaning of the following three statements: The end of times, the end of the world, the end of the future?
I have heard these three statements in different contexts over the course of the past 4 years, and I get a very strong sense that each one is incredibly important, but nevertheless I find myself mystified at what the deeper meaning is. If anyone has heard of these before (individually or together) and have a deeper understanding of the meaning, then please send me an email (I almost never check for comments).
Friday, December 4, 2009
Monday, October 19, 2009
C.S. Lewis quotes
Here are some C.S. Lewis quotes that I'm reading as I go through That Hideous Strength again. These are really powerful, but I'm not going to add my personal commentary for lack of time.
"But he knew that [horrible thing] was true. And he could not, as they say, "take it." He was very ashamed of this, for he wished to be considered one of the tough ones. But the truth is that his toughness was only of the will, not of the nerves, and the virtues he had almost succeeded in banishing from his mind still lived, if only negatively and as weaknesses, in his body. he approved of vivisection, but had never worked in a dissecting room. He recommended that certain classes of people should be gradually eliminated: but he had never been there when a small shopkeeper went to the workhouse or a starved old woman of the governess type came to the very last day and hour and minute in the cold attic. He knew nothing about the last half cup of cocoa drunk slowly ten days before." -C.S. Lewis, That Hideous Strength.
"In their eyes the normal Tellurian modes of being-engendering and birth and death and decay-which are to us the framework of thought, were no less wonderful than the countless other patterns of being which were continually present to their unsleeping minds. To those high creatures whose activity builds what we call Nature, nothing is "natural." From their station the essential arbitrariness (so to call it) of every actual creation is ceaselessly visible; for them there are no basic assumptions: all springs with the willful beauty of a jest or a tune from that miraculous moment of self-limitation wherein the Infinite, rejecting a myriad possibilities, throws out of Himself the positive and elected invention." -CS Lewis
"Frost had left the dining room a few minutes after Wither. He did not know where he was going or what he was about to do. For many years he had theoretically believed that all which appears in the mind as motive or intention is merely a by-product of what the body is doing. But for the last year or so - since he had been initiated - he had begun to taste as fact what he had long held as theory. Increasingly, his actions had been without motive. He did this and that, he said thus and thus, and did not know why. His mind was a mere spectator. He could not understand why that spectator should exist at all. He resented its existence, even while assuring himself that resentment also was merely a chemical phenomenon. The nearest thing to a human passion which still existed in him was a sort of cold fury against all who believed in the mind. There was no tolerating such an illusion. There were not, and must not be, such things as men. But never, until this evening, had he been quite so vividly aware that the body and its movements were the only reality, that the self which seemed to watch... was a nonentity. How infuriating that the body should have power thus to project a phantom self!" - C.S. Lewis
"But he knew that [horrible thing] was true. And he could not, as they say, "take it." He was very ashamed of this, for he wished to be considered one of the tough ones. But the truth is that his toughness was only of the will, not of the nerves, and the virtues he had almost succeeded in banishing from his mind still lived, if only negatively and as weaknesses, in his body. he approved of vivisection, but had never worked in a dissecting room. He recommended that certain classes of people should be gradually eliminated: but he had never been there when a small shopkeeper went to the workhouse or a starved old woman of the governess type came to the very last day and hour and minute in the cold attic. He knew nothing about the last half cup of cocoa drunk slowly ten days before." -C.S. Lewis, That Hideous Strength.
"In their eyes the normal Tellurian modes of being-engendering and birth and death and decay-which are to us the framework of thought, were no less wonderful than the countless other patterns of being which were continually present to their unsleeping minds. To those high creatures whose activity builds what we call Nature, nothing is "natural." From their station the essential arbitrariness (so to call it) of every actual creation is ceaselessly visible; for them there are no basic assumptions: all springs with the willful beauty of a jest or a tune from that miraculous moment of self-limitation wherein the Infinite, rejecting a myriad possibilities, throws out of Himself the positive and elected invention." -CS Lewis
"Frost had left the dining room a few minutes after Wither. He did not know where he was going or what he was about to do. For many years he had theoretically believed that all which appears in the mind as motive or intention is merely a by-product of what the body is doing. But for the last year or so - since he had been initiated - he had begun to taste as fact what he had long held as theory. Increasingly, his actions had been without motive. He did this and that, he said thus and thus, and did not know why. His mind was a mere spectator. He could not understand why that spectator should exist at all. He resented its existence, even while assuring himself that resentment also was merely a chemical phenomenon. The nearest thing to a human passion which still existed in him was a sort of cold fury against all who believed in the mind. There was no tolerating such an illusion. There were not, and must not be, such things as men. But never, until this evening, had he been quite so vividly aware that the body and its movements were the only reality, that the self which seemed to watch... was a nonentity. How infuriating that the body should have power thus to project a phantom self!" - C.S. Lewis
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Thoughts
What do you do when your heart betrays you. What do you do when you have a desire for a certain thing, but you betray yourself and cannot pursue that desire even though you want to. How do you get to a place that you don't know how to get to? How do you become the sort of person you want to be, if you do not know that person? I suppose you need to know the person you want to become.
I've recently been thinking about the prophecies made about me. I think I'm going to go and re-read many of them. 1 Timothy 1:18Timothy, my son, I give you this instruction in keeping with the prophecies once made about you, so that by following them you may fight the good fight.
Revelation 2:24I will not impose any other burden on you: 25Only hold on to what you have until I come.
My heart lies awake at night. My hope is that my eyes are opened once again.
I've recently been thinking about the prophecies made about me. I think I'm going to go and re-read many of them. 1 Timothy 1:18Timothy, my son, I give you this instruction in keeping with the prophecies once made about you, so that by following them you may fight the good fight.
Revelation 2:24I will not impose any other burden on you: 25Only hold on to what you have until I come.
My heart lies awake at night. My hope is that my eyes are opened once again.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
The fury of the flame
Hello nameless reader (unknown, yet well-known), here's a journal entry I just wrote. I'm posting this here because I think it might resonate with some people. If it doesn't resonate with you, don't worry about it; it's probably just nonsense (there is so much nonsense online, after all). Regards.
--
Where can I find the joy for my soul? Where is it found? I've heard many people speak about joy, in many ways. Many have prophesied this over me, that my joy would be a breakthrough for this city. I have, in fact, heard this from several Cambridgites. I know the answer, such a bold, naive man that I am. In the presence of the Lord, in fact, is fullness of joy. At his right hand, there are pleasures forever more. What kind of answer is this, then? It's a simple one; either God comes down, and encounters me every day and every night, or I go up, and see his face and rest, at last. I have found brief moments of rest, here on the earth, but it feels like it's been a long time since then.
Whether on heaven or on the earth, I know that the presence of God is what will satisfy. There are three things that are never satisfied, four that never say, "Enough!": Sheol, the empty womb, the earth, which continually drinks in water and is not satisfied, and fire, which never says "Enough!". What has the power to satisfy a flame, to satisfy the earth that continually drinks water? What can quench the thirst of the flame, that only grows stronger as it eats more? What thing, in heaven or earth, has the power to satisfy that hunger, that all-consuming hunger of the flame? In my heart, I say this is a paradox with no answer, this is a Gordian Knot with no resolution; that the flame will continue to burn, and every answer given, everything fed to this thing will only increase the hunger, increase the flame. How many cookie-cutter philosophers are there with their pat answers to the questions of life? How many third-rate mystics, scribes, salesmen of bliss, offering happiness to all and giving happiness to none? And the more answers one acquires, the less one finds satisfaction there. And yet, in my heart I know that You are the answer. I don't even know how; everything I've seen in my life says the opposite; that there is no answer. Yet still I know that you are the answer. You know how to silence the flame, the all-consuming blaze.
There is only one answer, really, and I'm fully incapable of giving it. I know the hunger and the pain of the fire that burns within, that sees no respite and will not be quenched. It refuses all comfort; it refuses satisfaction. It allows only a single answer to be given, and it's an answer that I have no power to speak. I only hold the question; I hold the desire; I hold the inner barrenness, the empty womb. You see, my life is the empty womb, and it is not satisfied, it does not say, "Enough!"
My life, too, is the grave, Sheol, the pits where dead things lay. It has become a place of death, not to be too morbid or overly dramatic (and I surely hate exaggerated drama).
My life is like the earth, that drinks in water and yet is not satisfied. And I do not hold the water; I merely drink what is given to me by another.
An empty jar of clay; that's what I am. For I am poor and needy, may the Lord look upon me. You are my help and my deliverer; do not delay, O my God.
So I don't have any answers; I simply have questions. Thusly I look and wait for the One who is the answer; His ministrations alone will quench the fury of the flame, the unceasing hunger of the grave, of the barren and empty womb, the thirsty and dry land. Who can answer such a question? Who can give satisfaction? To whom can my eyes turn, that I might see and be satisfied, and find rest for my soul?
I've heard of One, to whom I can turn. I hold no power over him. He does as he pleases. He turns where he will, and I cannot lay my hand upon him and say, "No." Thusly, in my poverty and need, I have no power to bring about my own salvation (and what a dreadful 'salvation' men might work upon me! I fear such things.). My eyes turn to the One who is my salvation, and upon him will I wait.
--
Where can I find the joy for my soul? Where is it found? I've heard many people speak about joy, in many ways. Many have prophesied this over me, that my joy would be a breakthrough for this city. I have, in fact, heard this from several Cambridgites. I know the answer, such a bold, naive man that I am. In the presence of the Lord, in fact, is fullness of joy. At his right hand, there are pleasures forever more. What kind of answer is this, then? It's a simple one; either God comes down, and encounters me every day and every night, or I go up, and see his face and rest, at last. I have found brief moments of rest, here on the earth, but it feels like it's been a long time since then.
Whether on heaven or on the earth, I know that the presence of God is what will satisfy. There are three things that are never satisfied, four that never say, "Enough!": Sheol, the empty womb, the earth, which continually drinks in water and is not satisfied, and fire, which never says "Enough!". What has the power to satisfy a flame, to satisfy the earth that continually drinks water? What can quench the thirst of the flame, that only grows stronger as it eats more? What thing, in heaven or earth, has the power to satisfy that hunger, that all-consuming hunger of the flame? In my heart, I say this is a paradox with no answer, this is a Gordian Knot with no resolution; that the flame will continue to burn, and every answer given, everything fed to this thing will only increase the hunger, increase the flame. How many cookie-cutter philosophers are there with their pat answers to the questions of life? How many third-rate mystics, scribes, salesmen of bliss, offering happiness to all and giving happiness to none? And the more answers one acquires, the less one finds satisfaction there. And yet, in my heart I know that You are the answer. I don't even know how; everything I've seen in my life says the opposite; that there is no answer. Yet still I know that you are the answer. You know how to silence the flame, the all-consuming blaze.
There is only one answer, really, and I'm fully incapable of giving it. I know the hunger and the pain of the fire that burns within, that sees no respite and will not be quenched. It refuses all comfort; it refuses satisfaction. It allows only a single answer to be given, and it's an answer that I have no power to speak. I only hold the question; I hold the desire; I hold the inner barrenness, the empty womb. You see, my life is the empty womb, and it is not satisfied, it does not say, "Enough!"
My life, too, is the grave, Sheol, the pits where dead things lay. It has become a place of death, not to be too morbid or overly dramatic (and I surely hate exaggerated drama).
My life is like the earth, that drinks in water and yet is not satisfied. And I do not hold the water; I merely drink what is given to me by another.
An empty jar of clay; that's what I am. For I am poor and needy, may the Lord look upon me. You are my help and my deliverer; do not delay, O my God.
So I don't have any answers; I simply have questions. Thusly I look and wait for the One who is the answer; His ministrations alone will quench the fury of the flame, the unceasing hunger of the grave, of the barren and empty womb, the thirsty and dry land. Who can answer such a question? Who can give satisfaction? To whom can my eyes turn, that I might see and be satisfied, and find rest for my soul?
I've heard of One, to whom I can turn. I hold no power over him. He does as he pleases. He turns where he will, and I cannot lay my hand upon him and say, "No." Thusly, in my poverty and need, I have no power to bring about my own salvation (and what a dreadful 'salvation' men might work upon me! I fear such things.). My eyes turn to the One who is my salvation, and upon him will I wait.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
New year, new post
Hi to whoever might stumble across this. I see that it's now 2009 so I figured I should add a new post. I can't think of anything I want to write though, so that's about all. I might add some more wisdom/biblical studies posts later this year though.
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