from The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis

"I'm not sure that I've got the exact point you are trying to make," said the Ghost.
"I am not trying to make any point," said the Spirit. "I am telling you to repent and believe."

"You cannot love a fellow-creature fully till you love God."

"... I know it has a grand sound to say ye'll accept no salvation which leaves even one creature in the dark outside. But watch that sophistry or ye'll make a Dog in a Manger the tyrant of the universe." 

"... but we will not call blue yellow to please those who insist on still having jaundice, nor make a midden of the world's garden for the sake of some who cannot abide the smell of roses."

"And yet all loneliness, angers, hatreds, envies and itchings that it contains, if rolled into one single experience and put into the scale against the least moment of the joy that is felt by the least in Heaven, would have no weight that could be registered at all. Bad cannot succeed even in being bad as truly as good is good. If all Hell's miseries together entered the consciousness of yon wee yellow bird on the bough there, they would be swallowed up without trace, as if one drop of ink had been dropped into that Great Ocean to which your terrestrial Pacific itself is only a molecule."
"I see," said I at last. "She couldn't fit into Hell."

He nodded. "There's not room for her," he said. "Hell could not open its mouth wide enough." 

Between Places

The moment between moving is often one of a special type of clarity. During each of these transitions, whether with family moving to new continents or alone across states, the feelings are similar.  It's when my mind lives in both places. I can look back and think about its lessons and experiences, and look forward to the awaiting stories. It's not ennui. But it's rather a more positive feeling, pausing between rushes of time. It hints at hope and some quiet excitement. It's wakes me up a bit.
And then I pack my bags and leave for the new place, settling into the new and leaving much of the old. (Of course this implies some psychological confusion while moving in and out of Ithaca amongst different places.)

This makes me wonder how fantastic it will be to finally go home, though hopefully not for many decades.


Listening: Like Incense/Sometimes by Step - Hillsong Live

2013.04.13

The moments that have us question our existence, purpose, motivation, our entire path… are sometimes chaotic, subtle, quiet storms. In their midst, we hold devotedly to the thin string of truth that we know. For Christians, that string is Jesus.

Jesus has been on my mind more than usual this week. I pledged to spend an hour with Him each day. It's been an inevitable failure at times, but since Sunday, I have definitely settled down, stopped other activities, and spoken to Him.

One part of speaking to Him is the action of giving Him my thoughts, worries, burdens. To release all of these to Him, to relieve oneself of them, is of course never-ending. But I find that writing these thoughts down can really help. I can put them somewhere tangible and would lie to myself if I were really going to read them again. But if a small part of me wants to remember and not let go, I can be free to think about something new, and be assured that the memory is available if I want it.

So I seek to read and write, as a sort of release but also as a form of communicative practice. You might joke that the kids in my college don't know how to read or write but there's truth in that. Many of us actually avoid the courses that will expect essays and real hefty reading.

There is one image that has been replaying every few days: A friend and I were turning the corner onto Dryden, just passing Dunbar's. A few groups of drunk people were also walking nearby at varying speeds. A few girls were walking in front of us, and a few guys were a bit slower. To my left and slightly front, a guy suddenly lurched forward, almost tripping over his own feet. His body had just bent forward as we passed, and I glanced at him briefly. In that moment, the momentum swung his necklace forward. It was a silver cross.

I wish I knew where this guy was right now, so I could walk out of the house, jog through the tap tap of rain sprinkles, desperately tell him that no matter what he's done or what he will do, God is absolutely in love with him (and then leave). Or maybe he knows this already, far better than I do.

But isn't it easy to forget? No matter the rush of thoughts that we experience daily, or the blankness from exhaustion as we stride slowly and homewards, how can this love be as real to us as a burning memory?

Sometimes when I do a problem set, I use concepts that require derivations. I can't always recall the derivations and keep them at the forefront of my mind as I use the concepts. Sometimes this really bothers me because I want my mind to grasp everything at once. Analogously, the truth of Jesus's resurrection and the atonement of our sins has repeatedly been proven and confirmed through God's Spirit, yet I can't at all remember, recall or know all the reasons why this is so. I need to trust that the derivation is correct, that it's of course transforming but the result is an immovable, unchanging good news... the same yesterday, today and forever.