Sunday, December 12, 2010
I spent some time reading a friend's blog tonight and realised how much I really do enjoy learning about people and knowing the relevant and irrelevant details of their lives. This blog showed me the person in a whole new light and it was quite enjoyable to learn about their thought processes and opinions through the written medium. I am aware that this can be achieved through facebook, and don't get me wrong, I am as voyeuristic as the next person, but there is something about a written piece of work that really warms my heart. People write from the heart and divulge information that may otherwise remain unknown. Words are powerful tools.
Studying English teaching, I do a fair bit of writing at uni. However, this writing is normally not welcome, nor interesting. I love the idea of writing for the sake of writing, and learning through that practice. It is for this reason, that I am going to challenge myself to regularly put pen to paper/fingers to keyboard and write my little heart out.
Considering I am currently a lady of leisure (hence writing a blog post at 12.39am on a Monday morning) I am hoping that this will actually occur. If not, feel free to berate me at regular intervals. I am going to take the liberty of appointing Jenny Allison to keep me accountable. Hopefully you will be blessed with hearing of all my wild escapades and adventures over the summer. None of these are yet planned so I may not have much to write about, but I'm sure I will be able to create a masterpiece or two. Interesting? Quite possibly not. Writing for the sake of writing? Yes. Even if it is just a written version of the verbal diarrhoea that so frequently graces the conversations I participate in.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
I have always found this hymn overwhelming to sing and find a peace whilst singing it. If a man who has lost everything can rise up from the dust and proclaim 'Whatever my lot, you have taught me to say, it is well, it is well with my soul', we are surely able to hand over our petty worries to God. However, I find that this is often much easier said than done. I know that if I do hand over my problems and I praise God through every season, that my life will be better for it, yet I still manage to hold onto them. This said, the more that I experience life and what it brings, I am slowly but surely finding the strength to proclaim that 'it is well'. Sometimes I find it really hard to believe that it really is well. How can it be well when people are hurting, people and dying and people are aching? It can be well because God has given us an eternity of perfection to look forward to! He has restored our relationship with Him, through the death of Jesus Christ on the cross, and he will carry us through any storm, no matter how high the seas may roll.
Singing this hymn for the past few weeks at church has been challenging me to put my life in perspective, to realise that it really is well. In light of recent events, I believe that God was preparing me to be able to say that it is well. Whatever my lot, I am more freely able to proclaim that it is well, and not despair at what is occurring. Whilst there may be pain for a time, or for the rest of my lifetime, it is ultimately God who will prevail in these situations. If Horatio can lose everything he knew, yet proclaim the name of Christ and his undying faith in him, then surely I can too. It is by the grace of God that I may have this faith...so I don't want to waste it! Even if it seems that it may not be well, take a closer look (or a look from further back!) and realise that it is well. It is well.
When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.
But, Lord, ‘tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh trump of the angel! Oh voice of the Lord!
Blessèd hope, blessèd rest of my soul!
And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
It all began in a camp bedroom, with a host of male and female leaders, jammed into bunkbeds and all over the floor. We were all having a bit of fun, and turned the light on to see each other and carry the bedtime party on in the light. Whilst we were chatting away, we could hear noises outside, there was a group of men sitting around a fire outside our bedroom window. A friend (who I went to school with, but not longer have contact with) yelled out the window for the men to shut up. As soon as she did so, one of the men stormed over to the window. There was only a flyscreen between us and him. The light was switched off, and we all pretended that we were asleep in the room. All of a sudden, he thrust his hand and a loaded gun through the flyscreen. We were all panicked, but remaining completely silent. I was in a weird position, face down, but with my bum in the air... (?) trying to be inconspicuous. He stood there for ages, pointing the gun around the room and asking us to get up and show ourselves. Nobody moved. I felt that I had to do something, so I was going to pretend that I was only a child, so that he wouldn't shoot. I started opening my eyes, expecting to see the dark room and his gun in my face...only to find myself in my room lit with the morning sun, and lying safe and comfortable in my bed...I actually breathed a sigh of relief...I was really scared.
We have dreams, many a night, yet we can rarely remember them. I can only ever remember my bad dreams...two inparticular from my childhood. What does a dream mean? Is it really our subconscious speaking to us, or is it just our imagination running wild? I am convinced my dream was a result of watching a disturbing TV episode before sleeping (which I now know what to do!), yet I have had dreams in recent times that have been eerily life like, and made me think about them for days or even weeks later. I wonder what impact our life has on our dreams...or on the flipside, what impact our dreams have on our lives?
Monday, May 3, 2010
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
It's these simple things that I love. I want to share these things with people - whether it be my family's love for one another, a nice pair of shoes I saw in the shops or a recipe I like. The simplest of things are often those which bring the most joy...