don't love nobody.

Excuse my incorrect grammar in the title of this post, but I thought that was a good way of capturing the sentiment of this quote by C. S. Lewis:

"It is easier to be enthusiastic about Humanity with a capital ‘H’ than it is to love individual men and women, especially those who are uninteresting, exasperating, depraved, or otherwise unattractive. Loving everybody in general may be an excuse for loving nobody in particular."

- cited by John R. W. Stott, The Letters of John, Rev. Ed., p. 147

What a thought-provoking quote. I'm sure I've been guilty of this more than a few times. Thanks to our pastor, Pete Williamson, who cited this on his blog.

rest in peace, Sundae

Today was a sad day for the Geri household. We had to put our little rabbit, Sundae, to sleep. She was very old for a rabbit-- 8 1/2 years-- and had been suffering from diabetes, GI problems, failing eyesight and other problems associated with old age. This morning I got her out to pet her and decided she was suffering too much to justify us keeping her alive any longer. When Chad came home for lunch, he examined her and agreed. So this evening we took her down to the vet hospital and Chad put her down. I was very thankful that Chad was able to do it and that we could be by ourselves with Sundae during her last moments. She was very brave right to the end, and licked my hand for a few minutes before she finally succumbed to the injection.

One of my favorite memories of her is when she would hide under our bed and not come out. She was so fast that we couldn't catch her, so we'd eventually (in desperation) have to get out the vacuum cleaner, start it up on one side of the bedroom, and like a flash of lightning, she'd come flying out from under the bed on the other side of the bedroom, back into her cage. It was quite a sight to behold. At the time, we were actually keeping her cage in our closet, because we lived at Jardine and pets weren't allowed there. They did pest inspections once a month, which got a bit stressful at times. Chad would have to get up early to put Sundae in a box and take her out to the car before his first class. Then we'd hide the cage in a big box in the closet. It was an elaborate scheme that in the end made it so we could keep our rabbit and pay only $315/month in rent.

Sundae was the very first pet that Chad and I owned together-- we got her about nine months after we were married, in September 2001. She was a sweet little bunny and was always as friendly as could be. Every time I would pet her, she would lick my hand-- which is fairly atypical for a rabbit. She always brought us a lot of joy, and we remember our time with her fondly. She will be sorely missed.

perfection in a painting

Starry Night by Vincent van Gogh

This, in my humble opinion, is perfection in a painting. It is by far my favorite painting of all time. I'm intrigued by it almost as much as I'm intrigued by its artist.

I'll admit I don't know very much at all about Vincent Van Gogh, but I'd certainly like to learn more. Early in his life he was known to be a devout Christian and wrote dozens of beautiful poems about Christ and the church. His father was a pastor and at one point he worked as a missionary to a mining town. This strikes a sharp contrast with his later life, during which he cut off his left earlobe after arguing with another painter, contracted gonorrhea and died as the result of a botched suicide attempt at the age of 37. He suffered from severe depression, and possibly bipolar disorder or even schizophrenia. What makes his story even more heartbreaking is that his work was nearly unknown until after his death. It makes me sad to think that he might have died believing he was a total failure.

Interestingly enough, van Gogh was largely self-taught, which to me should provide hope to amateur artists everywhere.

Van Gogh is also the coiner of many thought-provoking quotes, including the following:

"The best way to know God is to love many things."

"Love is something eternal; the aspect may change, but not the essence."

"I tell you, the more I think, the more I feel that there is nothing more truly artistic than to love people."

"I put my heart and soul into my work, and have lost my mind in the process."

I love the third quote... that there is nothing more truly artistic than to love people. That quote is certainly an apple of gold in a setting of silver. I may not be much of a painter, but I pray the Lord would perfect in me the art of loving people.

ultimate french toast

I fixed this recipe for Chad the other day... it was the best French toast either of us has ever had. It's a combination of several recipes that I found on AllRecipes.com:

6 slices bread

1/3 c packed brown sugar
1/4 c half & half
1/3 c milk
2 eggs
2 T flour
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
1/4 t ground cinnamon
1/4 t ground nutmeg

cooking spray

butter or margarine
honey
maple syrup
powdered sugar

Mix dry ingredients (brown sugar, flour, cinnamon & nutmeg) together. In a separate bowl, whisk eggs and then other wet ingredients together (half & half, milk, vanilla extract). Slowly add the wet mixture to the dry mixture and mix well. Heat a griddle or skillet over medium heat, using cooking spray if desired. Soak bread slices in milk mixture and cook until golden brown, turning intermittently. Serve with butter, honey or maple syrup, and powdered sugar.

Serves 2-3

Cook time: 15 minutes

Enjoy!

the haunting

"Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to your brother; then come and offer your gift." - Matthew 5:23-24

Halloween is fast approaching, and I am being haunted. Not by a ghost or goblin, not by a spirit or apparition, not even by some scheming trick-or-treaters, but by these words. When I listen to a song, they are there. When I hear a sermon, they are there. When I journal, they are there. When I pray, they are there. Sometimes I'm reminded of Shaggy in Scooby-Doo, walking around with his hand behind his back, feeling the air to convince himself that a ghost isn't following behind him. Except I don't need to feel the air. I know I'm being followed.

The word of God has a tendency to haunt people from time to time. It has great power-- power to convict and power to judge righteously over the thoughts and intentions of man. Its reading can lead to forgiveness, reconciliation and eternal life. It chisels away at even the hardest of hearts while embracing the humble in spirit.

The man who uttered the words of Matthew 5 was in fact Himself on a mission of reconciliation. Only He had never sinned against anyone. His only guilt was that He had too much love for a world that had sinned against Him countless times. Reconciliation-- made possible through His crucifixion, burial and resurrection-- was, for Him, not an option.

Neither should it be an option for us. We should mourn, and our hearts should be broken, for every estranged friend and shattered relationship. We should be willing to forgive unconditionally and reconcile with brothers and sisters in Christ who have committed even the most heinous sins against us. We should run with outstretched arms to those who have lied to us, spread false rumors about us, and betrayed us, at the first light of their repentance.

This is all much easier said than done, however. What if we find ourselves in a situation where reconciliation is impossible, this side of heaven? What if we've hurt or been hurt by someone, and seeing them again is too painful (for us or them) to endure? Or what if the brother or sister we've sinned against is simply unwilling to forgive?

The man who has the answers to all these questions will be a rich man, indeed. But fortunately for me, the verses from Matthew aren't the only words that have been haunting my mind. Every time I've sought an answer to these questions, the words, "Victory remains with love" have been imprinted on my mind. This phrase is a reference to Christ on the cross, but to me it also refers to something else-- the final victory, made possible through the cross: a time when in heaven, God, through His love, will right all that we sinful humans have managed to maim and destroy here on earth. All will be reconciled, all will be healed, all will be made whole, and He will wipe away every tear from every eye.

But what about the present? Heaven seems so far away at times. For the present, also, victory remains with love. We can love our estranged brothers and sisters in Christ, even from afar, in several ways. First, we can forgive them, wholly and unconditionally, regardless of their stance toward us. Second, we can continue to turn the other cheek-- responding to any and every new offense with love. Third, we can pray for them-- perhaps for their forgiveness, or for their welfare or spiritual growth. Finally, we can continue to look toward reconciliation-- whether here on earth or one day in heaven.

Because for now, and for all eternity, victory remains with love.

covenant

By Margaret Halaska

God
knocks at my door
seeking a home for his son.

Rent is cheap, I say.

I don’t want to rent. I want to buy, says God.

I’m not sure I want to sell,
but you might come in to look around.

I think I will, says God.

I might let you have a room or two.

I like it, says God. I’ll take two.
You might decide to give me more some day.
I can wait, says God.

I’d like to give you more,
but it’s a bit difficult. I need some space for me.

I know, says God, but I’ll wait. I like what I see.

Hm, maybe I can let you have another room.
I really don’t need that much.

Thanks, says God, I’ll take it. I like what I see.

I’d like to give you the whole house
but I’m not sure…

Think on it, says God. I wouldn’t put you out.
Your house would be mine and my son would live in it.
You’d have more space than you’d ever had before.

I don’t understand at all.

I know, says God, but I can’t tell you about that.
You’ll have to discover it for yourself.
That can only happen if you let me have the whole house.

A bit risky, I say.

Yes, says God, but try me.

I’m not sure—
I’ll let you know.

I can wait, says God. I like what I see.

desert reality

This eerie photograph comes from Ed Freeman in his new series, Desert Reality, opening in New York this December. To view the rest of the photographs in the series (they are amazing) click here.