i need to learn to sketch like so
“The Love Of God” (1919)
“[By] Frederick M. Lehman; he wrote this song in 1917 in Pasadena, California, and it was published in Songs That Are Different, Volume 2, 1919. The lyrics are based on the Jewish poem Haddamut, written in Aramaic in 1050 by Meir Ben Isaac Nehorai, a cantor in Worms, Germany; they have been translated into at least 18 languages.”
Love that the book it was in was called:
“Songs That Are Different”
The feeding of the five thousand is a marvelous story in which we find the wonderful principles of brokenness.
‘Then Jesus lifted up His eyes, and seeing a great multitude coming toward Him, He said to Philip, “Where shall we buy bread, that these may eat?” One of His disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said to Him, “There is a lad here who has five barley loaves and two small fish, but what are they among so many?” ’ (John 6. 5, 8–9).
The loaves and fish represent our lives. Andrew said: ‘What are they among so many?’ Logically, it was not enough for the multitude, but the point was not the loaves and the fish, but rather what the Master could do with them. It is not what you can do; it is what Jesus can do with you when you surrender to Him. God takes that which appears to you as nothing, He blesses it, breaks it, and multiplies it for a blessing to thousands.
— In His Hands, Pablo Pérez (from The Prophetic Worshiper)
Not keen on the allegoresis, but the application’s legitimate and not too fanciful.
Sometimes it’s painful to remember that I’ve largely relinquished any of my musical ability to the winds. I oughtn’t not to complain about singing in the congregation at church – it is, after all, a divine calling – but the illusion of ‘more’ is hard to satisfy. I fancy, and perhaps the thought is largely true, that I once had great gifts that are now wasted for lack of use. My consolation is that no one but God knows how else I could have turned out, had I not had a taste of those gifts which have not been taken as far as they should perhaps have been.
For a moment I wonder why this thought comes to me just as I’m on the cusp of a new job as a teacher at a classical Christian school, which no doubt I’ll really enjoy doing, until I remember that this is just the kind of thing the devil loves to do. Try as I might, however, I cannot simply shake it. I suppose that God allows these things to teach humility and patience, but these ways, I admit, are not to my liking.
I should be content with my station in life. Let every man abide in the same calling wherein he was called. Since I cannot transcend providence, and since the wisdom of God is so great, I ought happily to submit to him, and yet my heart mourns what is no curse. The real curse is that I fret about what is but the natural course of things, that one must, even by his own choices, be ordinary. Is it so hard to accept? What reason have I for desiring distinction? My ingratitude is unseemly. Behold, O Lord, I sin against thee daily.
Above are samples of Robert Noble’s Gamekeeper tweed. I found them after reading Eric Musgrave’s post about Kathryn Sargent, and seeing the handsome Robert Noble tweed jacket he had her make up for him. This is some really, really beautiful stuff.
The things one cannot wear in the lands of perpetual summer.
Officially a monarchist. During the Diamond Jubilee celebrations a friend from Lancashire told me he would take me off his newsfeed if I kept posting royalist things.
Too bad I, not being British, could not pull off red trousers. Too American for such things.
I want to get socks in more colours, and Argyle socks. Also, black socks actually pair with nothing, not everything. Except in black tie, but are you going to such an event? Outside of St Andrews and Oxbridge, usually not. I skipped on the expense; and anyway, I have yet to tackle tying a bow tie, and I will not wear any but self-tied.
The scarf picked up the reddish pinstripes in the shirt. Too bad it then got hot outside. Hot in St Andrews, which is unthinkable.
In SoCal I probably have no occasion to wear my hooded tweed overcoat. Tragic.
Speaking of literature, how do you decide what to highlight when you teach novels?
Most people can write a little bit of decent poetry if you stop accepting BS. Some write really fun limericks.
Writing a sermon can be quite an edifying experience for yourself, like a different mode of journalling. You might try it some time and use those rhetorical powers to concentrate your conviction.
If your kid ever wants to study divinity (even if en route to law school at Edinburgh or the like), he should consider St Andrews. The divinity faculty are top-notch, and church unity is worth experiencing, and the Christian Union is excellent. Also come here to study international relations.
When you write, digestive biscuits are tempting.
Haggis is not gross. Fish skin with scales still on it is gross.
Laphroaig and Talisker are really good. By all means enjoy them.
Still waiting for a restaurant to open called The Empire. It will serve Sunday roasts, fish and chips, dim sum, tikka masala and tea, inter alia.
Cucumber sandwiches, one of the few uses of white bread.
Taxes are too high; one is free to avoid them within the legal bounds.
Car insurance will be so high. And I need a car. I just want to wear tweed and brogues and take trains. Should I get a fedora?
California is a hard place to find orthodox Anglican churches. I may, however, be involved in church planting, which would be exciting. Now to get confirmed by a bishop so that I can serve as a churchwarden.
If English is your main language, you should probably be Anglican. Problem is, English-speaking Anglicans often forget their Protestant identity and insult the Thirty-Nine Articles of Religion. This is an unacceptable way to be Anglican. If you want to wear lacy vestments and pray to saints, gird up your loins and submit to the discipline of Rome.
America is a Protestant nation: either a faithful Protestant nation or an apostate Protestant nation, but a Protestant nation in either case. The prospect of a Romanist president in 1960 made people uneasy, because Romanists are required to obey the pope, until JFK made it clear that he would play by the implicitly Protestant rules of the American constitution. For the same reason, the prospect of a Mormon president makes me a bit uneasy. Then again, Romney seems barely Mormon.
My eyes can take no pleasure in seeing Mitt Romney. Maybe if he dressed like less of a tycoon. I do not doubt his desire to serve the people, since he already has much better ways to be rich, but his moneyed look is rather vulgar.
But Christians dressed decently, ah, what a good and pleasant thing, when they approach the homage of their King with seemly reverence, modest but bright with the joy that greets the grace of heaven.
The pleasures of music. If you know them already, I need not tell you; if not, I cannot tell you. A very spiritual thing, it is.
There are no Yorkshire accents in California. Hopefully Enoch Sammer sings more. He lifts your spirits. He’s a Yorkshireman.
Real ale! Where? There are no Whey Pat, Aikman’s and Criterion where I am going.
Even if I haven’t said a word to you in months, your absence has haunted my dreams, no doubt. It’s so hard to know how anyone actually is.
Response to http://marckim90.tumblr.com/post/24187979091.
Please find below a response to your recent musings on Tumblr. It is not meant to be read as an argument for or against the things you wrote, but rather, just my response.
Media: I don’t know how I stand on TV shows. I am…
Mr Ng, are you calling me a Luddite? :O
well, i haven’t seen one of these on my dashboard in a while:
so now i can vent a bit without anyone thinking i’m targeting him/her in particular (i hope nobody thinks that, because i’m not). here goes nothing:
I reserve a special disdain for posts like these. Every time I see one of…