tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29298474091739320832024-03-05T08:28:47.711-08:00Jack & MLEUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2929847409173932083.post-48486192320801272182022-12-23T11:01:00.003-08:002022-12-24T11:24:19.873-08:00Merry Christmas 2022!<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWv6l6pEVfrEg4eDKJ5NyWWqdlbv1M9EICE7YYCUPQD-GMzk67DgWBXaMpoyn51XnHI6lAT3MbVSq618UI0vK_47__9dN-ZmCWl_4tc7wOA-yOj38emynfNeIyPHjM4YtXpKd6mlX1VLDTFqgKVHeSsmfY3RzNlHALkEyPP8AE1oXW2U8vhd2Efythfw/s769/PXL_20221218_172929285.PORTRAIT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="577" data-original-width="769" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWv6l6pEVfrEg4eDKJ5NyWWqdlbv1M9EICE7YYCUPQD-GMzk67DgWBXaMpoyn51XnHI6lAT3MbVSq618UI0vK_47__9dN-ZmCWl_4tc7wOA-yOj38emynfNeIyPHjM4YtXpKd6mlX1VLDTFqgKVHeSsmfY3RzNlHALkEyPP8AE1oXW2U8vhd2Efythfw/s320/PXL_20221218_172929285.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBGsEjxPpDbqqhsY4QwEBCF1qv_cGJCFYrGkDGKYy5XKdA0YpGq0ooAkgzUoVE26GP67V1BQU_PP5B1LuY9MBGhjaekv0SUhbU3Pdxp7qEG3hEyq51KXe1TiRWCEAjoAfbTmI72NN2yZ53OJpKHBXzsxP-l68S-qTfmWVQCgRRWitTjTtCzx87F9H--w/s769/PXL_20221218_172931410.PORTRAIT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="577" data-original-width="769" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBGsEjxPpDbqqhsY4QwEBCF1qv_cGJCFYrGkDGKYy5XKdA0YpGq0ooAkgzUoVE26GP67V1BQU_PP5B1LuY9MBGhjaekv0SUhbU3Pdxp7qEG3hEyq51KXe1TiRWCEAjoAfbTmI72NN2yZ53OJpKHBXzsxP-l68S-qTfmWVQCgRRWitTjTtCzx87F9H--w/s320/PXL_20221218_172931410.PORTRAIT.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Dear friends,<p></p><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Christmas greetings from East Central Alberta!</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">They say that the days are long but the years are short, but—especially since the birth of our fourth—it seems like the days are too short, too. Suddenly it's December 23 and we haven't sent out any Christmas cards. So here's a little attempt to get back in touch and give an update.</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">This is our third Christmas in Alberta, but with the strange Covid-y world we were in, there are still many firsts. First off (and nothing to do with Covid), it's the first Christmas for a new person: Elizabeth Lucy Jackson, "Ellie," born January 18. The kids have loved having a baby, and Eva especially has loved having a sister. I'm amazed when I think about God's generous kindness in giving us these four kids to raise. Nevertheless, the year has given me a few dozen more gray hairs and at least one screw loose (yesterday I found a block of cheddar cheese in the drawer with my oven mitts...and then couldn't remember why I'd opened the drawer).</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">After two years of border restrictions and bizarrely-timed obstacles, my parents have finally booked tickets for their first trip to Canada after Christmas. The separation from family has been painful this year. Thankfully, we were able to go down in July to introduce Ellie to her grandparents and aunts/uncles/cousins, and her great-grandpa. The visit was a sweet gift, but not nearly long enough.</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Last week we celebrated one of Dan's dreams in moving back to Alberta: a church Christmas drama/program at the theater our church owns, The Living Room. As the world has been coming back to normal, Dan has had more and more opportunities to help at the theater, and he is loving it. I am sure we have the best sound system in a small movie theater in East Central Alberta, and the lighting is also coming along. </div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">It was a good year for the farm, despite (sometimes because of?) the volatility in grain markets around the world. Once again, the kids loved ride-alongs at seeding and harvest. And, once again, we watched the miracle of life unfold: soil, seeds, rain, sunshine, growth, abundance, harvest (also weeds and gophers). There are always more projects than Dan can get to, but it is clear he is in the right place.</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The Lord continues to provide good friends and warm community here. This year we were able to plug in more with local homeschoolers and start Eva (7 [how is she 7???]) in piano and swimming lessons. She is flourishing with school and reading anything she can get her hands on. Ben (4) is ready to start reading whenever his parents are ready to spend just a little bit more time on it. He is taking after Dad with a mechanical mind and is already starting to explain to me how things work. Sam (2) is probably behind most of my gray hairs; he's a busy guy with a huge personality and a million ideas. He can't wait until he can go to work with Dad at the farm. Ellie is a sweet, mostly easy-going baby, except that she believes her bed is a prison. She's getting close to walking, and I foretell she'll be giving Sam a run for his money in the race for who can give Mom more gray hairs.</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">In June, I stepped down from my job as Legal Writing professor for Oak Brook College of Law (something I'd been doing since 2006!). I have been hosting a Bible Reading Challenge with some dear ladies here and trying to find other ways to exercise gifts that mesh better with my current vocation. Someday soon I would like to write something other than the odd Facebook status. Not a lot of reading happened this year, but my top authors were Wendell Berry and Rod Dreher. Favorite Bible book was Ecclesiastes. Make of that what you will.</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The expat experience (and just the general process of getting older in this beautiful but badly bent world) continues to teach me about the longing for Heaven. And Advent this year has been more than ever about echoing that story of the First Long Wait, longing like the <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search%3D1%2BPeter%2B1%253A10-12%26version%3DESV&source=gmail&ust=1671906353655000&usg=AOvVaw1g9BlaQMN_IDqsa3HoYlT-" href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1+Peter+1%3A10-12&version=ESV" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">prophets of old</a> for another coming we can scarcely comprehend. O come, O come, Emmanuel. Come and dwell with us again.</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">And, while we wait, if you ever want to come check out Alberta, small-scale-large-scale grain farming, or historic small town theaters with epic sound systems, we've got a seat at the table/tractor/theater for you!</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Love,</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Emily</div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></div><div style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">PS - Freed from the strictures of Canada Post and the USPS, I can now send you a song! <a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v%3DU4sfy420peA&source=gmail&ust=1671906353655000&usg=AOvVaw3q4QJaWuVQpnjRwoRZgY8U" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U4sfy420peA" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank">https://www.youtube.com/<wbr></wbr>watch?v=U4sfy420peA</a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2929847409173932083.post-89459349118568250192016-12-25T22:25:00.000-08:002016-12-25T22:25:04.314-08:00Manly Things in the Kitchen<div dir="ltr">
Wife: "Dan, there's some man paraphernalia over here [in the kitchen, to clean up/put away]"</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
Husband: "what kind of 'man paraphernalia'?"</div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br />
Wife: [looks at items left atop the microwave, where the paper towel roll lives] <br />
"Squirt jars?"<br />
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLuGNbQJwvN0zDTiCVP_9hOo9yTTMHndyg8d2WdqCL-EY9a9iSdbqGirLiVmjEBNWi76wWh1zd2rjFLjiYXg7o46mWG3xfzuxuho2jDqtDREZgU80LkZSX5UKGhdb89VsPGkXIXB103JrD/s1600/20161225_221125.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLuGNbQJwvN0zDTiCVP_9hOo9yTTMHndyg8d2WdqCL-EY9a9iSdbqGirLiVmjEBNWi76wWh1zd2rjFLjiYXg7o46mWG3xfzuxuho2jDqtDREZgU80LkZSX5UKGhdb89VsPGkXIXB103JrD/s400/20161225_221125.jpg" width="400" /> </a> </div>
Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00439558955365251588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2929847409173932083.post-35818354287313400962016-12-09T23:48:00.001-08:002016-12-09T23:49:08.580-08:00Some Ingredients Not Included<p dir="ltr">Aldi is a place to find many wonderful and oft unusual items. Knock-off Cinnamon Toast Crunch is a good sign; I'm the kind of guy who isn't picky about the name on the box so long as there's the requisite amount of sugar-per-serving.</p>
<p dir="ltr">DIY almond bark... That's a step farther down the dark alley. It's not like Aldi is Ikea--I expect my plastic-wrapped chocolate to be pre-assembled, even at a quirky discount chain like Aldi. </p>
<p dir="ltr">What separates my encounter with the almond bark construction kit from my other Aldi encounters is that there didn't seem to be any almonds in the package--neither slivered, nor sliced. It was, so far as I can tell, a package of baking chocolate with carefully-targeted packaging, expertly placed among holiday decorating and baking paraphernalia to attract unsuspecting novice almond-bark-makers.<br>
I don't know if that's brilliant or diabolical.<br>
</p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTvSl6mpL9MOmPC64SnWAF_SsfX3Ozc1go3UiDh-_TwlCwLNkfCMI7Nriujpeqj5rIwph_ZDYcyX1gM1vFH_z256yHXP7MAEqxt_Ao0ijbVJIimpxSGcaBkcTaZr1sWj7C3N4tMhSbOlk/s1600/20161201_153527.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTvSl6mpL9MOmPC64SnWAF_SsfX3Ozc1go3UiDh-_TwlCwLNkfCMI7Nriujpeqj5rIwph_ZDYcyX1gM1vFH_z256yHXP7MAEqxt_Ao0ijbVJIimpxSGcaBkcTaZr1sWj7C3N4tMhSbOlk/s640/20161201_153527.jpg"> </a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7-xzjGZr__gtViHD7ZkjyhJbSzjpL13ikBaMzLqbiW4ZAVLnBytXN3cUqQ3qAeUlLJ7ijwUWLIwEFqAUucUYiyIzlbQ9uIhnR6yYy1cRwI9al5iXFrk_KV9zHTxYHg06yZruHlAbVAqc/s1600/20161201_153514.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7-xzjGZr__gtViHD7ZkjyhJbSzjpL13ikBaMzLqbiW4ZAVLnBytXN3cUqQ3qAeUlLJ7ijwUWLIwEFqAUucUYiyIzlbQ9uIhnR6yYy1cRwI9al5iXFrk_KV9zHTxYHg06yZruHlAbVAqc/s640/20161201_153514.jpg"> </a> </div>Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00439558955365251588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2929847409173932083.post-37667057542835171632016-03-04T21:39:00.001-08:002016-03-04T21:47:37.067-08:00mundane<p dir="ltr">Four blue eyes.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Baby onesies scrubbed with dish soap and lying out to dry in the sun.</p>
<p dir="ltr">The sink full of dishes, then empty, then full again.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Two brown beds (one of them pink) and a play mat with a tiny baby in the mirror and a very frustrating dangling acorn.</p>
<p dir="ltr">An imagination littered with thoughts about history's corpses and corpuses, and a blinking cursor on a white page.</p>
<p dir="ltr">What a small world it was this week. But an infinite one.<br>
</p>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2929847409173932083.post-41163031576786263062016-03-03T11:41:00.001-08:002016-03-03T11:46:46.561-08:00sunlightMy first year in high school debate (which was, incidentally, also my last year), the topic was campaign finance reform.<br />
<br />
It was true, as Thane used to say in his expository speech in those days, that "the way to tattoo something into your audience's brain is to say it over, and over, and over again. The way to tattoo something into your audience's brain is to say it over, and over, and over again. The way to tattoo something into your audience's brain—"<br />
<br />
You get the point.<br />
<br />
Back to campaign finance reform: there was a team whose affirmative plan had something to do with publishing information about donors. I don't remember the details of the plan. What I do remember was that throughout the 1AC and interlaced throughout the rest of the debate, the affirmative speaker would say, "Sunlight is the best disinfectant."<br />
<br />
Also that same year, and also in an expository speech, one of the prizewinners from the Point Loma college team talked about all the microscopic beings who share our bedding, and how to eliminate them. The dryer, she said, was highly effective. As was sunlight.<br />
<br />
So it is that what I remember most from that first year of academic policy debate (other than "The way to tattoo something into your audience's brain is to say it over, and over, and over again..."—which, now that I think about it, was actually from the second year) is that sunlight has extraordinary cleaning qualities.<br />
<br />
I haven't had much opportunity to put this knowledge into practice. (There was that one time in Dahiyyat al-Rashiid when I dragged my mattress out onto the front porch, to Amber Tracy's chagrin, convinced that it was infected with bedbugs. But I never knew if that worked.)<br />
<br />
Until motherhood.<br />
<br />
Now I use the sun almost every day (or did, until we found a brand of diapers that holds its own most of the time). And it truly is amazing, wiping out stains so quickly that I think that, if I were able to stand still long enough, I believe I could watch them fade.<br />
<br />
Sunlight, you've lived up to your hype.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2929847409173932083.post-66922339097317945572016-02-03T10:48:00.001-08:002016-02-03T10:49:38.991-08:00life is living in an apartmentI do not always want linoleum floors.<br />
But I keep them clean.<br />
And I smile to see them freshly mopped.<br />
<br />
(Also: <a href="http://www.bartleby.com/113/4022.html">this</a>)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2929847409173932083.post-13810065098690960562015-12-26T00:33:00.001-08:002015-12-26T00:33:23.216-08:00Christ for All<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We often don't ask of Christ at all, which is the great mystery of generosity and humility. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Christ offers all, but to receive is to humble ourselves--even to destroy ourselves. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">A gift presumes. To acknowledge generosity is to make ourselves subject to the giver; "thank you" is at odds with "I could have got along very well on my own, I didn't need your generosity." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The burden of Christ's sacrifice is heavy. Not even the burden of carrying one's own cross could be so heavy as to accept that Christ gave everything for us. </span>Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00439558955365251588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2929847409173932083.post-66184749120105126392015-12-12T11:25:00.001-08:002015-12-12T11:31:09.437-08:00strange the plain things are<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih1AegNlMIv6fwfjRvGL1hIfOf3o-P5ahe_8WV9ti8_anbunbH7sUSdFpyF6eAz2y6zZ6ZsySobQfwxN9q3kHr74PLc37bW9mHc1CIKDyvaOiSGhtGtTsy10AxtXEL_LQls0tfcYS7vi-e/s1600/IMG_20151212_110641.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih1AegNlMIv6fwfjRvGL1hIfOf3o-P5ahe_8WV9ti8_anbunbH7sUSdFpyF6eAz2y6zZ6ZsySobQfwxN9q3kHr74PLc37bW9mHc1CIKDyvaOiSGhtGtTsy10AxtXEL_LQls0tfcYS7vi-e/s400/IMG_20151212_110641.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><a href="http://aleteia.org/blogs/simchafisher/there-is-no-such-thing-as-a-small-act-of-love/">Fisher</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><a href="http://www.firstthings.com/web-exclusives/2015/12/god-become-baby">Leithart</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;"><a href="https://malcolmguite.wordpress.com/2015/11/30/the-house-of-christmas-gk-chesterton/">Chesterton</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Incarnation is finitude, limitation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Especially for God. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">I think of Philippians 2—"though
[Christ] was in the form of God, [He] did not count equality with God a thing
to be grasped, but emptied himself"—or of John 1—"the Word became
flesh and dwelt among us"—with both "dwell" and "among
us" speaking of not only temporal and physical limitation, but humility
and empathy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">That kind of limitation was what I was
thinking about when I first started thinking about parenthood and incarnation.
In the weeks since Eva was born, I have felt limited, even reduced. She doesn't
need (for the most part) my intellect or my accomplishments or my sense of humor. She doesn't need for me to brush my hair. She needs milk, and warmth, and someone to change her diaper. Like God, I
thought, I have humbled myself and accepted these limitations. I felt
validated, even while reading Fisher's article.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; orphans: auto; text-align: start; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; orphans: auto; text-align: start; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Now it is true that the fact of the
Incarnation does lend sanctity and dignity to these things we do in our bodies.
Giving milk to my baby is not irrelevant; it is not beneath me or detached from
the rest of God's design for me. His plans for me are plans for this body, and
the fact that it is a female body, now a mother's body, is an intentional
detail in that plan. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; orphans: auto; text-align: start; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; orphans: auto; text-align: start; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">God did not merely work out a cosmic
transaction for our salvation. He came and inhabited a body, joining with Adam
and all of us in all of the weakness and fragility of human life, joining with
us in life and death.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; orphans: auto; text-align: start; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; orphans: auto; text-align: start; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">So, yes, the Incarnation does imbue
embodied activity with a certain type of sanctity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; orphans: auto; text-align: start; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; orphans: auto; text-align: start; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">But Jesus came<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>as the baby</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; orphans: auto; text-align: start; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; orphans: auto; text-align: start; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">What Eva needs from me feels limiting to
me, but the truth is that I can leave her on the bed and go downstairs and wash
the dishes if I really want to. I can even leave her alone in the house and
take out the trash. I can put her in the carseat and drag her along with me to
get things done. Or I could ignore her altogether.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; orphans: auto; text-align: start; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; orphans: auto; text-align: start; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">Eva can't do any of those things. She is
truly helpless. She fully relies on us for everything. She cries for milk and
smiles when she knows it is coming. An hour later, she does it again. She is
needy, and she doesn't resent that neediness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; orphans: auto; text-align: start; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; orphans: auto; text-align: start; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">It was a mistake to focus on how much my
powers were limited as I cared for Eva. Things like the thrush or a really bad
night remind me that I am just as helpless when it comes to the basic things as
I am when functioning at [what I perceive is] my full capacity. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; orphans: auto; text-align: start; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; orphans: auto; text-align: start; widows: 1; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 13.5pt;">To see myself as the baby helps me to focus
on God's care and provision instead of on my hardship or humiliation. This is
where my mind needs to be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2929847409173932083.post-55216282396773395172015-12-07T17:15:00.000-08:002015-12-07T17:15:24.474-08:00Advent and MemoryChrist is eternal, the lord not just of earth and stars and flesh and spirit, but even of time itself.<br />
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Is incarnation a casting off or a giving up, or is it a taking on? A mantle of temporality? Does the eternal lord of heaven have memory if he is at all times and all places unchanging?<br />
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Flesh is memory. We bear the effects and the results of every moment we are alive. Even the dead remember their death in their flesh.<br />
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If incarnation is a taking on a history, resurrection is... a restoration? A summation of all that is into an unchanging moment? Do Christ's scars bear eternal testimony to his sacrifice, or have they been transformed after his ascension?<br />
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<br />Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00439558955365251588noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2929847409173932083.post-17511976503246142942015-12-05T23:09:00.001-08:002015-12-05T23:09:15.793-08:00Advent thoughtsMLE read me a piece about advent and the presence of Christ yesterday, and I've been pondering. Not as much about advent itself, or about the distinction between advent and the birth-event, but about incarnation.<br />
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We die.<br />
Christ came to die.<br />
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We have spent so much time, so much energy, so much of our own lives (not to mention the lives of others) tying to escape death; Christ came to die.<br />
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We have moved beyond escaping death, and we now try to prolong life--resuscitation is only the beginning. "Trans-humanity" is attempting to wield genetic control over life, to undo the designs that cause decay and dysfunction as we age.<br />
I wonder, though, if the "eternity" that is being sought here isn't even more 'static' (or just plain <i>boring</i>) than the harp-playing in the clouds depicted by cartoonists.<br />
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But if death is an awfully big adventure, what of the return home? Christ came to die, and dreaded that death, and sought to escape it, but in the end accepted it--but was is it to die knowing the next part of the story? Resurrection is not simply a return home from war...<br />
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Infancy seems so far from death, but this perspective is perhaps a new one: infant mortality is infinitesimal compared to what it was a century ago. The vulnerability, though, of infancy is unchanged. Babies cry out in pain hopelessly, helplessly. So much of life is an adaptation to this state--shifting our helplessness to a delicate balance of what problems we can overcome and which we simply must avoid. But flesh is vulnerable, no matter what.Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00439558955365251588noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2929847409173932083.post-87574127946272668872014-06-01T08:56:00.001-07:002014-06-01T08:56:30.451-07:00testtestUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0