This is not a sad post

It is as if I search for you, but I have lost the way to you. I know I haven't - the way to you is you.

As though I were speaking and speaking of nothing, until I forgot how to listen.

It is as if I am lost because you are lost. And my way to anyone is lost - or I fear that it will be in the brain-warp that I have stupidly created.

I know this moment is of my making and I know these feelings are only premonitions which will be real if I don't let myself be nothing, give completely and wait.

This is emptiness that only you can fill. The deer to water - that's been done. This, this is just me to you. Speak. I'm listening.

I am like any average person. I think relationships don't need work, I think decisions of commitment come heralded - violin concertos and sunbursts. I keep thinking until I remember or stop thinking to listen. You're good at this - you teach me. I just pray I will learn when it happens with others, when we're both learning, and you still teach. That you will not teach to the unteachable, not for too many moments.

The song I've been listening to over and over again for the past couple of days!

I know my Redeemer Lives

- Nicole C Mullen



Who taught the sun where to stand in the morning
Who told the ocean you can only come this far?
Who showed the moon where to hide 'til evening
Whose words alone can catch a falling star?

Well I know my Redeemer lives
I know my Redeemer lives
All of creation testify
This life within me cries
I know my Redeemer lives

The very same God that spins things in orbit
He runs to the weary, the worn and the weak
And the same gentle hands that hold me when I'm broken
They conquered death to bring me victory

Now I know my Redeemer lives
... He lives

To take away my shame
And He lives forever I'll proclaim
That the payment for my sin
Was the precious life He gave
But now He's alive
And there's an empty grave.

Bubble and squeak

Here I sit in my little Christian bubble, using 'faith-speak' and hoping to speak to the uninitiated. I don't want to 'convert' people, I am not trying. Yet I am inadequate in expressing the vastness of a love that is beyond telling. A love that flows into you and makes you love other people. A love that is so strong that it changes the definition of 'unrequited', and always nullifies it.

When I blog of these feelings, are they too intensely private to share with everyone? I am not talking of this post at all. If they are, am I being exclusivist? I don't mind making this URL my little confession box of sins and non-sins. But I do mind making my visiting preachers feel left out in the cold.

Here I sit in my little Christian bubble, with the colours that make me happy, rolling around inured to the air around me. Maybe there is bubble-time and broken-time. I suspect God prefers broken. I break it, and I am me. As much me as I was inside the bubble. But bubble-squeak and bubble-gloss are gone. And the people happen.

Randomness

Hmmm, why on earth would you listen to 'Ahuh, uh huh (good girl gone bad)' to make you feel better?? I mean why?

AB's having a bad case of nearly love again. AB's a darling.

Beautiful weather. There is absolutely nothing unlovely about rain. Or clouds.

I just might change to a new blogspot for complete anonymity. Just might be fun, seeing how people find me then or joining blogrolls and the like. Besides anonymity is necessary for a confession box - which is why I've never understood the parish priest's role... I mean look what happened in Zorro ;)

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Barking at a memory

Tassi, our 'middle' dog, is a feisty little dachshund. She is like one of those people who never run out of interesting things to say - interesting, at least to themselves (I wonder where she gets it from, not me for sure ;D)... So she's always talking, not just barking, but in a continued non-bark syntactic sounding sort of way. And she will never stop barking at people or animals outside our gates. Usually she calms down a while after they're inside the house - except for some people.

But I will write about Tassi in length, another day. There's a little story I want to tell. There is a family with three little boys near here. Whenever they visited, Tassi's whole day was ruined. Her world would crumble into dry, sour lemon flakes before her very beautiful eyes. She could get used to most people, but not the three boys. It must have been a season of peace for her when the sight of those three boys became a rarity. We loved them - they stayed here for hours, eating, hearing my mother's and my stories, playing with Shadow, chilling with my father, even sleeping on the odd occasion... perhaps to Tassi they were competition. Their presence was a bitter pill. To her, they had no right of entry. She felt victimised. I think we were good with her on that score - we made sure we petted her and played with her. I usually talked gibberish to her afterward so she'd understand my tone. I was basically asking her why she had to feel let down. It is inexplicable and extremely funny too - no one else had such an effect on her, and the three boys did not have that effect on any of the other dogs. They were just children, when she was a pup herself. They were therefore the enemy, a threat to her favoured position. She resented it, she was hurt, she was angry and she was not going to forget!

A few days ago, the oldest boy came over. I guess Tassi never did get over them. She had a lot to say. She stood at the gate and tortured herself by watching her hated enemy constantly; she denounced him, abused him, rebuked him. Maybe he wasn't the enemy at all. Funny. Because when S left, Tassi was allowed inside the house, to make up for her bad morning. She came in, the wrinkles on her worried little forehead and snout clearing cautiously. And then her eye fell on the armchair and she rushed to it in fury, her hair bristling along her spine! It was laughable - she was so cute and funny, but so nonsensical! It was the chair S had been sitting in. And she barked at that chair for all she was worth. Make amends she said - I was angry, redeem that time!! Perceptive little girl, she knew she would get a cuddle if we saw her hurt. Funny little sweetheart, barking at the old chair! LOL

I am like Tassi sometimes, barking at memories, old hurts, pain I carefully preserve to give myself a feeling of righteous victimisation. But I know my Redeemer lives.

me loves this pup

so i'm gorgeous - and?!



boootiful babess!!



soppy lil cuddler :D - that's what he does when he wants a cuddle. puts his neck down in the most uncomfortable way!

Famous Last Words

Why am I writing at ten past one am? Because I am mad. Insanity I suppose has run in the family - I'm sure I've heard covert, oblique references to a single aunt somewhere who was slightly off it. Pity she didn't know me - and pity she probably wasn't rich... I'm mad but not stupid ;) Maybe even two mad aunts. And they weren't even in the attic - Gilbert and Dubar, eat your heart out. He he he *eeeviiil laugh* No, not evil-evil... jus' Cruella without the surname. Heh... Told you - goin' round the twist.

Besides I want to appeal to you, my peeps. WHY is pudding pudding? I mean - why isn't it p-uh-dding?? This is my Facebook (guilty as charged!) status and it is now here. I mean, cuddle is cuddle, budding budding, muddle muddle and thudding thudding... But pudding?! No, it must go and be contrary.

By the way, anyone take a guess on the meaning of 'defenestrate'...?? You 'defenestrate' someone? Don't cheat with Wikipedia though. Or cheat but spell out the process for me. But you - I know what you're thinking! Let me put it in context for you - you defenestrate someone... Woah, hold it right there - wash that thought with soap water - you should be ashamed of yourself... gasp He he.

Bah, I shall probably be mortally embarrassed by my entire ignorance of style and cohesion and by my madness and confessional-but-pointless prose here. But I speak with the heavy eyes of one who faces sure but temporary nocturnal extinction. In English then, I'm going to be out like a light. *Giggle*

Pease (parsnips and potato)

pilgrim

Ancient paths

I just read a post by 'Lord Veritas' called Heaven Without Christ and it hit home. Reminded me of something I have always held a dear cause... Why preach if you don't preach Christ? Surely philosophy and theory and opinion have their place - but I'm guessing people already know or have their own opinions about it. I am probably going to go off on a completely wide tangent here - but hey, hence this blog's convenient title ;) This is perhaps not a take on Lord Veritas' but just the expression of something it triggered in me - which is what good writing does.

I have a friend (whom I always seemed to be arguing with, until God decided I needed to hold my ahem peace!) - and he believes that God has called him to provide for the intellectuals. And that they can only be reached through expositions of philosophy. My issue with this friend is not that he is right in not including me in the band of intellectuals ;) but that he often makes assumptions of situations, that I (perhaps arrogantly) claim to know better of simply because I am in them. Sometimes even assumptions about being female, or being in my family - in good spirit, he explains what he believes is Truth. LOL Yes, he capitalises the T ;). But that is my point - I would only capitalise it if in reference to Jesus. Some things are absolutes - I live in a country that reminds me of that everyday. The Bible is. But there are interpretations and opinions that are militant against another's - they are not salvation-stealing or power-pilfering, but they are discounted nonetheless. I suppose I have been guilty of having rejected another's view summarily, without listening for God's take first... But in our urgency to give our truth to the people we meet, we forget to give God's truth; forget that at the foot of the cross the same God changes and speaks; forget that the Spirit's discernment is far more understanding than our own. And we are also guilty of universalising personal revelations - no, we do not just share them. We 'absolutise' them. To me, the Bible remains the bottom-line on drawing lines... as does the God of the Bible. No, I am not speaking for those arguments that allow and liberalise everything the Bible says - face-value is not dispensable in our search for depth, is it?

I am, in fact, arguing for the ancient path. I am no post-modern, although there are remnants of truth in nearly every philosophy. I don't entirely hold with co-authorship... I long and hope that the Author will speak sooner than the readers of the Text. But that capitalised Truth? Lol, I believe we will find it here. Here in India, I belong to a church that because of its structure has someone at the top giving it its sermons. And because of its structure, there are several visiting pastors and theologians who preach. Theologians who preach philosophy... forgive me for the pun on those two words, but the wisdom of man is foolishness to God, and vice versa...

Many times you will find me ranting on the opposite side of the track (I have said I was a BoC) - that face-value foolishly forsakes the Spirit for the letter, but not when the Person is lost for the principles. The reason Christianity is different is because it is personal. In my responses to my Muslim students who chose to take the offensive on quite a few occasions, the one point at which they balked is when I told them fuss-free that I knew this fantastic, wonderful, entirely lovable and so-let-down-able Jesus - and that He loved me even more. And the gospel of Christ and the cross, God's love and sacrifice cannot be compromised. God's love not ours... I think that our relationship with Jesus is the centrifugal force that gives our Christianity its validity. Call me old-fashioned. I probably am. But the Bible is never out of fashion. And the Bible has copyright on love, not you or me. When I think of 'old-fashioned-ness', it's not about ideals and values - fashions are much more about the self.

Yet in my worship and in my meditation - if life and truth are not real, then I have lost my way.

The best so far, and better yet to come

Thank You. That is all I need to say, yet so little - but nothing is 'enough' in infinity.

Dunamis

I think it must be a largely Indian thing to favour PG Wodehouse - few of the non-Indian members of my acquaintance do...

God has been doing quite a few things in my life lately. Tomorrow will be 12 years since I accepted Jesus as Lord - AND Saviour - and said Welcome, Holy Spirit... And how gorgeous and exciting that feels, and still promises to be is something words fail me for...

I read this thing from a friend - and it quoted 2 Corinthians 12:9.
"And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me."

But it brought home to my mind the fact that the Greek word used for 'strength' there is actually dunamis - dynamite, of course. Wow! So I'm this weak, confused, insecure little thing one moment - but I ask God's power in, allow it to work and wham! I'm a force to reckon with. One little power-package! It's not just a quiet strength, it's explosive. Don't get me wrong - the quiet confidence speaks volumes more than the striving, point-proving argument... But if it is a quiet strength - in the midst of all your troubles and your decisions, in the midst of that
'whelming flood'
of yours - you know that there is a potential shell-shocking, earth-shaking explosion in it, for just when you need it.

I also read Psalm 119:25 -32 and it hit home as the Bible always does. Thought I'd share it with you.

I have been faced with many decisions lately - I need a whole train-load of wisdom for all of them. They all seem so inter-twined too. I also need to get a few needless worries out of my head ;) Thanks, BO, SD and AB for your prayers. Keep at it. God gives us the best always - I need to be able to listen - VERY carefully - and obey.

Love and prayers all,

pilgrim