Thanksgiving was fun this year. I spent my afternoon at President Nelson’s house on the river with a bunch of other students, alumni, and friends of Mr. Nelson. It was a lovely meal, but it was a bit strange to be there. There was a group of folks I knew well enough to call “friends,” but most of my afternoon was spent with people whom I’d call “acquaintances.” Good times, though. I came back and read Augustine and John Bevere all evening and made a fire for myself in the common room.
With all my extra time while classes are out I’ve been working a couple more shifts at City Dock. Good stuff. Today was crazy. Casey and I were loafing around all morning until about 10:30 and then the “latte rush” came. It was as if a store down the street had forced people to stay for a show and then let all their coffee-craving, kid-corralling customers out at once. Everyone wanted a specialty latte, this one with soy, that one with extra foam, “make mine a hot chocolate, but not too hot and only one pump of chocolate,” this extra hot, this one—“Oh wait, can I change that latte order to an iced tea.” Good times. We fought valiantly. A similar rush, though not nearly as bad, hit me when I was working alone about three hours later. God helped me through, and now I feel tired and ready to read some Augustine, maybe stopping for a quick nap. Oh! And I’ll write some, too.
God is so good. God is so good. Augustine’s Confessions is calling my name right now. It’s such an inspiring book for me. Everyone assumes that it would be something dark or painful to read, especially from the modern connotation to the religious idea of “confession,” which is always featured eerily in some mobster movie. Augustine actually didn’t set out to confess his sins but instead prays repeatedly throughout, “Lord hear my prayer that my soul may not collapse under your discipline, and may not suffer exhaustion in confessing to you your mercies, by which you have delivered me from all my evil ways” (I.xiv [23]). I don’t mean to downplay the importance of confessing our sins to God, but to man he stresses that he confesses God’s mercies; he’s so honest and real and open about his sins, but in no way highlights them as having any significance to himself in the present outside of the way they highlight God’s merciful forbearance, forgiveness, and deliverance. Such a delightful book for so many reasons! Off to read. Toodles.
With all my extra time while classes are out I’ve been working a couple more shifts at City Dock. Good stuff. Today was crazy. Casey and I were loafing around all morning until about 10:30 and then the “latte rush” came. It was as if a store down the street had forced people to stay for a show and then let all their coffee-craving, kid-corralling customers out at once. Everyone wanted a specialty latte, this one with soy, that one with extra foam, “make mine a hot chocolate, but not too hot and only one pump of chocolate,” this extra hot, this one—“Oh wait, can I change that latte order to an iced tea.” Good times. We fought valiantly. A similar rush, though not nearly as bad, hit me when I was working alone about three hours later. God helped me through, and now I feel tired and ready to read some Augustine, maybe stopping for a quick nap. Oh! And I’ll write some, too.
God is so good. God is so good. Augustine’s Confessions is calling my name right now. It’s such an inspiring book for me. Everyone assumes that it would be something dark or painful to read, especially from the modern connotation to the religious idea of “confession,” which is always featured eerily in some mobster movie. Augustine actually didn’t set out to confess his sins but instead prays repeatedly throughout, “Lord hear my prayer that my soul may not collapse under your discipline, and may not suffer exhaustion in confessing to you your mercies, by which you have delivered me from all my evil ways” (I.xiv [23]). I don’t mean to downplay the importance of confessing our sins to God, but to man he stresses that he confesses God’s mercies; he’s so honest and real and open about his sins, but in no way highlights them as having any significance to himself in the present outside of the way they highlight God’s merciful forbearance, forgiveness, and deliverance. Such a delightful book for so many reasons! Off to read. Toodles.
1 comment:
I am definitely a fan of that book, too!
Post a Comment