Caution to the Wind

Virginia Tech

2007-04-20T22:36:00.000-06:00

No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were. Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind; and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee. -- John Donne

Roots

2006-12-06T22:40:00.000-07:00

Me, age 3

The Good Life, Revisited

2006-12-06T22:11:00.000-07:00

The class: Philosophy Capstone Seminar
The prompt: Expand on your conception of the good life, discuss your career goals, and explain how the second relates to the first.

Elizabeth Ewing
PL462
4 December 2006
Faith, Work, and Music

Who is wise and understanding among you? Let him show it by his good life, by deeds done in the humility that comes from wisdom.
–James 3:13

If, years from now, I recall just one thing from our semester-long exploration the world of work, it will undoubtedly be this: that engaging in meaningful and satisfying work is one of the most basic elements of living a meaningful and satisfying life. This realization has prompted me not only to consider my future career prospects more realistically and earnestly than had been my previous habit, but also to contemplate the source of the interconnectivity between working well and living well. As I pursued the genesis of this connection on the pages of the Bible, I discovered wisdom about the role of work that spoke both to the generality of the human condition and the particulars of my own life.

The first reason that good work is a vital component of my conception of the good life is that, from a biblical perspective, the inclination to work hard (and to enjoy our work) is part of our God-given nature. It is, in essence, woven into our very being. As I struggle to live this out in my own life and work, I must first consider the character of God Himself, in whose image humanity was created. Scripture reveals an exciting truth: God is a worker! The entirety of creation was brought forth ex nihilo by the labor of the Almighty. Genesis 2:2 spells out in no uncertain terms the correlation between God’s creative acts and the idea of work: “By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day he rested from all his work.” The Hebrew word for work used here, mala’kah, means ”occupation, work, business, or workmanship.” This creative occupation of God is found to be a praiseworthy pursuit by the author of Psalm 8, who says, “When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him?[1]”

When I couple this conception of God with the belief that humanity was created in His image, I see how God’s divine work ethic becomes the basis of my own. I, along with the rest of humanity, was created by God’s work in order to do God’s work. This is enumerated in Ephesians 2:10: “For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.”[2]

A second reason that good work is an indispensable part of my conception of the good life is that in order to walk consistently in my faith, any job or career I undertake must be a coherent and active part of my Christian life as a whole. The notion of a sacred / secular distinction – that some aspects of my life might fall under the category of service to Christ while others are simply everyday drudgery – runs counter to everything I understand about wholehearted discipleship. To avoid the compartmentalization of my convictions, I must approach work in such a way that it is always an expression of, and therefore never in competition with, my love for the Lord. Neither should a job be viewed as a necessary evil which pays the bills but ultimately drains time and energy from one’s “true” spiritual activity.

Some might assume that in order to sustain this marriage of work and worship, a career in formal ministry is required. However, I assert that the capacity to honor and serve God exists in almost any career, contingent upon one’s desires and intentions. For me, the definitive passage on this matter, as well as the key to carrying it out successfully, is Colossians 3:23: “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.” A menial laborer who truly understands this verse will accomplish more for the Kingdom of Heaven than an ordained minister who approaches his work with a secular mindset.

A third point at which good work and good life intersect is through the idea of stewardship. It is my understanding from scripture that God gives us all specific strengths and talents not just for our own enjoyment and blessing, but in order that we might be better equipped to carry out the work He apportions for us. Appropriately, a good career for me will be one in which as many of my abilities as possible are fully engaged. My desire is to make the fullest use of my gifts in order to accomplish more fully the purposes for which they were given. I understand that I have been entrusted with talents as a product of God’s grace rather than my own merit[3]. I also understand that I am expected and required to put these talents to good use in God’s service, and that even the fruits of my labor are not truly mine, but His. The more I meditate on the fact that I can lay no claim either to the means or ends of my labor, the more I am motivated by the awareness that my work is part of something bigger and more important than myself. Jesus’ parables concerning stewardship also indicate that a faithful handling of what has been given to us will not go unrewarded, either in this life or the next[4].

Now that my views concerning the underlying principles of good work have been duly established, it is high time to delve into more specific issues concerning my career goals. The list of career options I have considered at various points in my life is extensive and rather jumbled. My aspirations were first to be an artist (circa age four), then went on to include paleontologist, doctor, lawyer, lexographer, politician, Air Force officer, poet, engineer, and novelist. In the midst of this plethora of alternatives, however, music has always been my most constant passion, and the nearest to my heart.

Unquestionably, music has played and will continue to play a central role in my conception of the good life. The only question is the extent to which that role will be professional as well as personal. One reason why I plan to pursue music on the professional level is to gain access to a musical community. Sharing music with those who understand and appreciate it as much as I do provides an important part of my overall musical experience. The ability to receive critical feedback and instruction, as well as to collaborate with other musicians on individual projects, is important as well. Additionally, my experiences performing as a member of larger ensembles have, in rare moments of musical self-forgetfulness, shown me a picture of unity in purpose and skill that is unmatched by any other discipline.

The creation of music (and creativity in general) is vital to my good life for another very specific reason: it acts as a shadow, a microcosm of sorts, of God’s relationship with His own creation. When I work hard to compose a piece of music, to realize as best I can some melody that insists on running through my head, the finished product awakens in me feelings of affection, approval – even a maternal sort of pride. This happens even in instances when I am well aware that the quality of the music is substandard; the source of my affinity has very little to do with the caliber of the product. Rather, it is seated in the fact that I made it and that it is the fruit of my labor. The late Pope John Paul II expressed this idea in words far more eloquent than my own in his 1999 “Letter to Artists:”

"None can sense more deeply than you artists, ingenious creators of beauty that you are, something of the pathos with which God at the dawn of creation looked upon the work of his hands. A glimmer of that feeling has shone so often in your eyes when—like the artists of every age—captivated by the hidden power of sounds and words, colours and shapes, you have admired the work of your inspiration, sensing in it some echo of the mystery of creation with which God, the sole creator of all things, has wished in some way to associate you."

The creation of music becomes an intensely personal tool of worship when, as I delight in the music I’ve made, I recall how much more intensely and perfectly God must delight in me – not because I am particularly delightful or meriting (far from it), but simply and solely on account of the fact that He made me, and that I am the deliberate and cherished work of divine hands[5].

For me, the exploration of the good life, and the role of good work therein, ultimately takes the form of an exercise in means and ends. Ideally, a talent and passion for music will serve as the basis for good work in this area, and the experience of that good work in turn acts as an important tool for living a good life. However, while many of the philosophers we studied in this course might identify the value of living a good life as an axiom, I believe that the good life is only the penultimate link in the chain. A life well-lived, characterized by love and integrity, godliness and devotion, worship and joy, is a means to an even greater end – indeed the greatest end of all: the manifestation of the glory of God.

My prayer is this: that You, O Lord
(The Muse of all my crafted phrase)
Might sift through these unwieldy words
And glean from them a heart of praise.

Endnotes:
[1] Consider also Psalm 92:4-5: For you make me glad by your deeds, O LORD; I sing for joy at the works of your hands. How great are your works, O LORD, how profound your thoughts!
[2] The matter is, of course, complicated greatly by The Fall. What was once intended to be a pure source of delight and fulfillment, when cursed by God, was mingled with strife, frustration, and sorrow. In my mind, the fact that the cursing of work was deemed a just recompense for original sin speaks to its centrality in human existence.
[3] 1 Corinthians 4:7: For who makes you different from anyone else? What do you have that you did not receive? And if you did receive it, why do you boast as though you did not?
[4] Matthew 25:23: 'Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your master.' Luke 16:10: Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much.
[5] Psalm 139:13-14: For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.

As Through a Glass, Darkly

2006-10-12T21:53:00.000-06:00

The class: Philosophy Capstone Seminar
The prompt: give a personal definition of the Good Life

Elizabeth Ewing
PL462
6 October 2006
As Through a Glass, Darkly[1]

“He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose.”[2]

“The world recedes; it disappears! / Heav'n opens on my eyes! my ears / With sounds seraphic ring! / Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly! / O Grave! where is thy victory? / O Death! where is thy sting?”[3]

What is the Good Life? Before I can answer this question, there is something you should know about me. Three years ago, I gave my life away. I signed over my right to Self, with all the privileges and responsibilities therein. I am now a bondservant of righteousness[4] and the property of Another. In light of this, the decisions that determine the course of my future aren’t really mine to make. In fact, “it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.”[5] Appropriately, I assert that His definition of the Good Life stands in lieu of my own, and as such, my exploration of this topic will refer often to the Bible.

Coming to terms with the fact that I am not my own and struggling to live accordingly has been a defining characteristic of these last three years. Many of my dreams and desires have been given up along the way, and many more will doubtless follow suit before God has finished with me. But pity me not – God has offered me a life far richer, far harder, far less comfortable and far more glorious than any that my own ambition could have forged. However, as the divergence between the life I would choose for myself and the life Christ has called me to live becomes more obviously pronounced, there is a truth which becomes proportionately difficult to deny: if the Biblical account of heaven is not factually true, then it is to my very great detriment that I live as if it were[6]. I am, in a very real way, gambling the whole of my time on earth – its very nature and quality – on the supposition that the Good Life isn’t this life at all.

The substance of Biblical Christian living represents a radical departure from conventional (humanist) thought. Simply put, it is my grave responsibility and great joy to consider my earthly life as forfeit to the service of the Gospel[7]. I am called to practice a consistent denial of my flesh, and to declare as Paul did, “I die daily.”[8] I am called to exhibit a singleness and wholeheartedness of devotion, acknowledging that “anyone who chooses to be a friend of the world becomes an enemy of God,”[9] and recognizing that I love Him too little when I love some other thing together with Him, loving it not on account of Him[10]. I am called to love sacrificially, even to the point of death – a principle which was illustrated definitively and undeniably as Christ hung on the cross. In fact, Christ has much to say on the cost of discipleship. As recorded in Matthew 16:24-26, He says “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.”

Lest my account of my Christian life thus far seem at all grim or Stoic, permit me to speak now about joy. Not the vapid comfort spoken of by Lucretius, nor even the lofty, self-wrought happiness set forth by Russel, but joy, vibrant and real, immovable and soul-deep, abundant in the midst of lack, abiding in the face of sorrow, and undaunted in the presence of opposition. Lucretius asserts that “the requirements of our bodily nature are few indeed, no more than is necessary to banish pain, and also to spread out many pleasures for ourselves.[11]” However, Jesus appeals to a higher nature when He presents sorrow, rejection and poverty as causes for rejoicing.[12] Consider the structure of the Beatitudes: “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (emphasis added). No value is ascribed to persecution, poverty, or sorrow in and of themselves; Christians are not called to be ascetics[13]. Rather, in experiencing these things we gain access to spiritual treasures, the joy of which vastly overshadows the pain required to obtain them. Satisfaction of “the requirements of our bodily nature” ought only to be denied if a truer, more lasting satisfaction is the result. In a broader and yet more personal sense, I ought only to forsake the pursuit of a self-centered, comfortable life, choosing instead to live as a “sojourner and exile,” if I am convinced that in doing so I manifest my eternal citizenship in a Kingdom compared to which all the enchantments of this world are but cheap and glittering artifice[14].

Faith in the reality and supremacy of the life to come, that life which is promised to me by Christ and purchased for me at the cost of His blood, is the very substance of the joy that is to be found in this life. “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see” (Hebrews 11:1). When one’s longing for heaven transcends the realm of hope and becomes certainty of what we do not see, immediate joy is the result. When a mother whose son serves overseas in a war zone is informed that he has been discharged and is returning home, she need not wait until he walks through the door in order for her heart to leap in celebration. Receiving the good news, even if it has not yet fully come to pass, is sufficient for her joy. And yet her joy will certainly be even greater when her son really does walk through the door. So it is for the life of a Christian. According to C.S. Lewis, "The very nature of Joy makes nonsense of our common distinction between having and wanting." The definitive word on this matter is given in 1 Peter 1:8-9: “Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, for you are receiving the goal of your faith, the salvation of your souls.”[15] Surely the echo of heavenly joy, the ring of “sounds seraphic,” travels backward as well as forward across the soundscape of eternity. Another poignant illustration of this is found in Genesis 29. Jacob, hopelessly in love with Rachel, agrees to work for her father for seven years in order to procure her hand in marriage. Verse 20: “So Jacob served seven years for Rachel, and they seemed to him but a few days because of the love he had for her.” When my days on earth have ended, I hope to have lived in such a way that others can say of my life: “So Liz served sixty years for Christ, and they seemed to her but a few days because of the love she had for Him.”[16]

In summation, the Good Life, for me and for all who call on the name of the Lord, is one which strains forward to catch the first glimpse of heaven’s dawn on the horizon. It is one built wholly on the bedrock of God’s promises. It is one which, when ended, has merited the commendation of the Lord Himself: “Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your master.”[17] Eternally speaking, the Good Life is that life in which the whole of my desire is slaked to its uttermost and beyond by God Himself. Indeed, I will settle for nothing less, since God has promised even more than this: “Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.”[18] “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him.”[19]

“And as [Aslan] spoke He no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on forever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.”[20]

Endnotes:
[1] 1 Corinthians 13:12 “Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.”
[2] From the journals of Jim Elliot, missionary to Ecuador. He was martyred seven years later.
[3] Alexander Pope, “The Dying Christian to his Soul”
[4] Romans 6:17-18 “But thanks be to God that, though you used to be slaves to sin, you wholeheartedly obeyed the form of teaching to which you were entrusted. You have been set free from sin and have become slaves to righteousness.”
[5] Galatians 2:19-20 “For through the law I died to the law so that I might live for God. I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”
[6] Paul confirms this in 1 Corinthians 15:19: “If in this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied.”
[7] The definitive scripture on this matter is Philippians 3: 7-14: “But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead. Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.”
[8] 1 Corinthians 15:31
[9] James 4:4
[10] Modified from Augustine’s Confession, Chapter XXIX
[11] Book Two, “On the Order of Things”
[12] Matthew 5:3-12: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you.”
[13] Colossians 2:20-23 “If with Christ you died to the elemental spirits of the world, why, as if you were still alive in the world, do you submit to regulations—‘Do not handle, Do not taste, Do not touch’ (referring to things that all perish as they are used)--according to human precepts and teachings? These have indeed an appearance of wisdom in promoting self-made religion and asceticism and severity to the body, but they are of no value in stopping the indulgence of the flesh.”
[14] In speaking of the faithful Israelites of the Old Testament, the author of Hebrews has this to say (11:13-16): “All these people … did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.”
[15] The passage in its entirety reads thusly: “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade—kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God's power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, for you are receiving the goal of your faith, the salvation of your souls.”
[16] Yet, unlike Jacob and Rachel, I do not earn Christ, but rather, Christ has earned me. “Let the Lamb receive the reward of His suffering!” – Moravian missionaries, circa 1732
[17] Matthew 25:21
[18] Ephesians 3:20-21
[19] 1 Corinthians 2:9
[20] C.S. Lewis, The Last Battle

The wrong side of a sunrise

2006-09-06T10:30:00.000-06:00

Haiku, part two:

Hours drain away

Morning comes like a gunshot

I'm still not finished.

With surprising force,

Mountain Dew number seven

finally hits home.

I solemnly swear:

Never again will I slack!

I mean it this time.

No need to refrigerate!

2006-09-06T03:51:00.000-06:00

My favorite part is the skull in the background.

Myself, arch-traitor to myself

2006-09-06T03:31:00.000-06:00

In honor of my first all-nighter so far this fall, I took a break from the due-in-seven-hours mania to pen this precious bit of haiku goodness:

Easy Cheese on Ritz
Impeded by shaking hands ...
No more Dew this night.

Brownie points to anyone who knows where the title of this post came from. It seemed particularly appropriate, given the situation.

An Evening Prayer

2006-08-23T21:53:00.000-06:00

To the God whose arms forged the roots of the world
To the God whose shoulders support a once-wayward lamb
To the God whose ears strain for my every whispered prayer
To the God whose eyes search for ways to bless me
To the God whose voice rebukes the waves of my worry
To the God whose heart burned with love for me even when I reviled him
To the God whose blood was traded for my pardon
To the God whose back was furrowed by obedience
To the God whose body was broken for me and for many
To the God whose side flowed with the currency of salvation
To the God whose hands stretched out to receive the nails that secured my freedom
To the God whose spirit became my own, now and forever more:

Thank you for my life.

2006-07-22T00:52:00.000-06:00

All Creatures Great and Small

2006-07-21T17:15:00.000-06:00

You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they were created and have their being. Revelation 4:11

For by him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things were created by him and for him. Colossians 1:16

Your laws endure to this day, for all things serve you. Psalm 119:91

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. Phillipians 4:6

For everything God created is good, and nothing is to be rejected if it is received with thanksgiving. 1 Timothy 4:4

All things created by God are good.
All things were created by him and for him.
All things serve him.
In all things offer prayer with thanksgiving.

All things.

I love animals very much. Most animals, anyway. The company of a pet offers a blessed respite from complicated human relationships without retreating to complete solitude. So does the company of God. The latest addition to my personal wildlife reserve was a handful of tadpoles scooped out of a muddy puddle at our Nebraska ranch. Now they reside in a complicated little habitat I built inside a plastic box, and over the past few weeks I've watched with childlike awe as, one by one, their bodies changed and little amphibian arms and legs materialized out of nowhere. Now almost all of them are fully toads, less than half an inch long. They can't live in their little box forever, but I'm afraid to let them go. I'm not sure they'll survive here in a different climate.

Last night, I was up (very) late reading in bed. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed something dark moving across the floor. Steeling myself to see any number of animals that I don't love so much, including a scorpion, I was instead surprised to see one of my little toads floundering on the carpet. Feeling a real compassion for my miniature pet, I moved quickly to scoop him up and return him to his home. Back in bed, I was anxious about which would be more dangerous -- keeping them captive or releasing them to unknown dangers. So I prayed to my God, asking him to keep them from escaping the rest of the night and to find a safe home for them soon. Then it hit me that in a world tearing itself apart with sin and violence, where human lives are lost senselessly and human souls are lost eternally, I was laying in bed praying for the safety of seven tiny toads. How self-consumed and ignorant of reality! How tiny was the scope of my concern!

But deep inside me, something quelled my harsh rebuke. It told me that if my pets were important enough to cause me worry, then it was important enough to tell God about. It reminded me that God is the God of the small and simple as well as of the great and dramatic, and that by all things and in all things he is honored by his creatures. All of them. I felt that as long as my heart was burdened by the things of God, be it sin or salvation or service or sorrow, then it was okay to care about toads -- because God cares about them.

With my heart at peace, I went to sleep at last.

All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful:
The Lord God made them all.
He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell
How great is God Almighty,
Who has made all things well.

Blushing Bride

2006-02-25T19:54:00.000-07:00

You wouldn't believe what you can get at a thrift store these days ...

Don't worry, this pic is over a year old. There haven't been any dramatic developments in my life that I've forgotten to mention. I was a model for a friend's photo project -- hence the wedding regalia.

This one's for the boys

2006-02-24T16:26:00.000-07:00

There once was a brother named Brandon
Who lived with reckless abandon.
It’s a sight to behold,
Like a story of old,
When his heart and his God work in tandem.

Well, Chris was a merry old soul!
With laughter he made our lives full.
So, my dear brother Chris,
I submit to you this:
Press on in your heart toward the goal.

O Stephen, my nearsighted friend
Whose antics seem never to end:
You’re a warrior of sorts.
Armed with quips and retorts,
All the hurts of this world you transcend.

Well-spoken and slick, Tyler Will
With your wit, you move in for the kill.
Yet as grade points accrue,
Nonetheless you pursue
The promise of heavenly thrill.

To Scott, whom the Lord has called forth
For a life of unparalleled worth:
Since your manners are mild,
You’ll have wealth undefiled
When the meek shall inherit the earth.

Dear God, hark and heed this petition
For Aaron with steadfast volition.
Be pleased to perfect
his whole life, to reflect
Your own heart of utmost contrition.

Though he seems like a regular guy,
Of Jonathan don’t go awry!
His acoustical threat
With a bass clarinet
Is unrivaled by fierce samurai.

To the entity called Jessicandy,
I speak to the half known as Andy:
You’re the near-perfect beau
Of a girl we all know.
With affairs of the heart, you’re quite handy.

To Eddie, whose prayers are so fervent
Of His righteous commands, so observant:
Oft-bereft of a dime,
Yet you give of your time
That you might hear, “well done, faithful servant.”

Dear Sam, I believe you’ll agree
That in all things, much love is the key.
So I’ll lay it down stark:
You take care of my Shark
Or you’re going to answer to me.

Today's post is guaranteed to satisfy 100% of your recommended daily allowances for the following: limericks, archaic language, sarcasm, not-quite-rhymes, made-up words, and sentimentality.

Sic Semper Tyrannis and whatnot

2005-10-26T16:28:00.000-06:00

So I realized what it is I've been missing all these years (well, besides common sense): a motto! Catchy mottos have a lot of influence, not to mention marketing power. Such classics as "live free or die," "Semper Fidelis," and "melts in your mouth, not in your hand" will doubtless be lauded for generations to come. After realizing that I could not possibly go another day without a motto, I made a list of good prospects. Reply to this post and vote for your favorite, or submit a new one! (Note: most of these probably won't make sense to anyone who doesn't know me, which is okay because no one except my friends ever reads my blog anyway.) Without further ado:

10. Falling off bikes with style
9. Whose idea was it to give her a driver's licence?
8. Lover of pugs and children
7. It's a good thing she'll have that philosophy degree to fall back on
6. Can anyone remember her original hair color?
5. Liz Ewing: the opposite of normal
4. Proud owner of perpetually infected facial piercings
3. Got Dew?
2. Don't get her started on feminism
and my current favorite:
1. Putting the "oo" back in bassoon since 1999

In other news, I got a ticket from CSUPD for a bad parking job. I didn't know they could ticket for that! Now I'm so much the wiser and seventeen dollars the poorer. In other other news, my new frog looks like a fat baby. In older news, both productions of the opera Cosi Fan Tutti went well, but Friday night was definitely the best. Also, the "f" key on my keyboard sticks -- it really hinders my self-expression. Also, the Rock retreat is this weekend. I might wear a helmet. Just to be safe.

Multum in Parvo,*

Liz

*official pug motto, translated "the most in the least."

Katrina

2005-09-02T09:39:00.000-06:00

You hear, O LORD, the desire of the afflicted;
you encourage them, and you listen to their cry,
defending the fatherless and the oppressed,
in order that man, who is of the earth, may terrify no more.
--Psalm 10:17-18

Our college paper today was filled with stories of horror, death tolls, starving children, suffering and violence as a result of the hurricane. In the midst of such madness, what shattered my heart was the mention of a little boy, waiting to be evacuated, who cried frantically and threw up as his pet dog was taken from him and left behind. I fell on my face and wept to God of all comfort, the Alpha and the Omega, the answer of answers. What can I do? What can I say? Pray. Plead. Pray. Oh, Lord, I can't imagine, can't understand -- the hell of those conditions, with no end in sight. I see my bed, my shower, my breakfast, my safety with new eyes this morning. I realize with a rude start that God whom I trust with my inmost being is the very same God whose hands "framed the fearful symmetry" of Hurricane Katrina. How much must He be suffering right now! How grieved He must be to hear every stricken cry of His beloved children! How impossibly close He must be to every broken spirit, every ruined life! Praise God. I don't understand. I can't, and won't until the day he comes to ransom us once and for all. But praise God all the same.

I hope the Prince of Peace is coming soon.

Judges 5:3

2005-08-31T10:46:00.000-06:00

*The following essay was a recent assignment for my music history class. The prompt was something like, "define sacred music, and describe the connection between music and religion." I wish I had more assignments like this.*

To me, the definition of ‘sacred music’ falls well outside the bland criterion of a musicologist or the boundaries of a church building on a Sunday morning. On the contrary, almost all music is sacred, and its connection to God is irrefutable – as intuitive as breathing. Sometimes, a poignant awareness of God’s majesty, of the sacrifice of His son, wells up inside me like a spring until it overflows in song, performance, and composition. Inspired by the Spirit, new melodies fill my head faster than I can scribble them down on paper, and even tedious practice sessions can become acts of worship.
I catch glimpses of His face in the most complex of symphonies, and I see His hand at work in the refrains of the simplest hymns. His sovereignty is equally obvious in the incomprehensible genius of Mozart and the unpretentious clarity of a child’s singing. God is with me as the allegretto of Beethoven’s seventh symphony thunders to a climax, near me as Vaughn Williams’ Lark Ascending soars above the staff, and in me as the harmonies of Faure’s Requiem build and build until my very heart threatens to break under the weight of His glory. For me, a snatch of music overheard in a practice room can, unbidden, become an undeniable manifestation of the omnipresence of the Living God.
On the manuscripts of J.S. Bach and even written into his music, we find the phrase “Soli Deo Gloria” – “only for the glory of God.” As I reach for the truth in this notion, I become convinced that God made music, first and foremost, for Himself, and our delight in it is merely incidental. Scripture reveals that in heaven, God is praised unceasingly in song. Music pleases us because it first pleased Him, and if all cultures and nations contain some form of music, I maintain that it is because the same God is Lord and maker of them all. Novelist J.R.R. Tolkein and apologeticist C.S. Lewis both imagined that God sang the universe into existence – that in the beginning, the music in His very being overflowed into matter and life. To me, little stretch of the imagination is required to concede that the rise and fall of God’s own song shaped the contours of our world, that within His voice lays the power to create and destroy, and that each human soul is as a melody-- nay, a masterpiece -- unique and precious to Him that created it.
So often, music is the conduit between my spirit and my Lord. So often, music is how God speaks to my heart, molds it, breaks it, and forges it anew. So often, music is the means by which God lays bare my soul before His throne. Halleluiah!

"Hear this, you kings! Listen, you rulers!
I will sing to the LORD, I will sing;
I will make music to the LORD, the God of Israel.”
--Judges 5:3

Happy Birthday Alex!

2005-08-08T00:25:00.000-06:00

Yo yo. This is a holla-back to my peep, Alex. Happy birthday, A-dawg. The big one-four. Fo shizzle dizzle. Yo momma. Peace out.

Disclaimer: I do not currently speak, nor have I ever spoken eubonics. As such, I have no idea what most of these words and phrases actually mean, and I am sorry if any poor soul is inadvertently offended. But only a little bit sorry.

Tedious Introspection

2005-08-07T22:08:00.000-06:00

Well, it's definitely been awhile, folks. I just felt like updating here (which will hopefully happen a little more frequently once school starts again). Those of you who have read my first entry are familiar with my philosophy of blogs as an outlet for confessions, so here's a good one for you: I confess that I feel compelled to make each post a masterpiece of literary precision, a magnum opus of mind-boggling revelation. I've actually started several posts and given up completely because they weren't turning out just right. The more I think about this, the sillier-- and more prideful-- it seems. I'd like to share more of my heart and less of my vocabulary (although I've already screwed up by using magnum opus). I figure that my friends will love me typos and all, and are more interested in my life than my literary prowess. On the flip side, my language is a big part of who I am, so I'll warn you now that some archaic and probably useless words are bound to crop up in the course of my ramblings. I ask for a little grace -- actually, a lot of grace. Actually, I'm not quite sure where this whole tangent is going, so perhaps it's best if I end it abruptly.

Children of the Corn

2005-06-20T16:36:00.000-06:00

And we're back! I know it's been literally a matter of months since last I posted, but the sad truth of the matter is that no computer equals no blog. And just why don't I have a computer? Because I'm in Iowa City for the summer! What a wild ride it's been. But with no further ado, I present a quick recap of my life since last I posted. Toward the end of the school year, my car's transmission went kaput, so it spent some time in the shop (and got a new trannie). I got it back the very last day of finals, which was good because that same day I packed up and drove back to Wyoming. This is the first time I haven't lived in Colorado for a year and a half -- it's a little weird. I spent a little more than a week at home with my family, sleeping aplenty and getting ready for Iowa. (Side note on Iowa: I imagine that everyone who reads this will know a little about my summer plans, but just in case: I'm in Iowa city with fifteen other outstanding young people from my church in Fort Collins for a summer Infusion program. We're helping out -- and being helped by -- a church already established here called Mars Hill, and our goal this summer is to infuse this city with the love of Christ in whatever way we can.) The day before we left was my birthday, which was lots of fun. I spent the morning with my family, and after a lavish lunch took off for Fort Collins, where I fooled around with friends for the afternoon, got an awesome new eyebrow ring, got sushi for dinner and had my food payed for by a stranger, and then stayed up late at the Laural House with a bunch of people including Whitney, who left for Washington the next day and who I might not ever see again. I'm sad she left, but what was awesome was that I thought she had already left, and then she just showed up for one last huzzah -- it turned out her flight had been changed to later or something. So even the last day with her was an unexpected blessing. So that night I crashed on the couch and woke up at about 4:30 a.m. to meet up at the church and leave for Iowa City. A few funny things happened before we even left: I had gotten it into my head to bring a couple frogs with me for companionship, so I was keeping them in a Nalgene bottle that I had painstakingly turned into a little habitat. (I know what you're thinking -- Not another frog story! -- but bear with me.) I set the bottle on top of the car while I packed up the last few things. Can you guess where this is going? I definitely forgot all about and drove off. I must have gotten about half a mile or so, probably going about 25 mph, when the bottle fell off and crashed into the middle of the street, splattering water and rocks and frog food everywhere. I thought there was no way that my aquatic pals could have suvived but I pulled over and ran back to check anyway. Long story short, they both survived the crash and are now alive and well in a little tank atop my dresser. They even have started singing at night, which is very cute. One of them is missing a leg, but he lost it well before the "accident" ... I think. I also got lost on the way to the church -- the same church I've been to hundreds of times before. My sense of direction is just that whacked. So I finally called for directions and cruised in a mere ten minutes late, and shared the frog drama with everyone. It was about then that I noticed / remembered that at some point the night before when we had been hanging out at the Laural House, Ryan "Punkface" Polich had written "I love (expletive)" on my leg in highlighter and that it was still most definitely visible the next morning. Thanks a bunch, Punkface. Eventually, we set out on what should have been a twelve-hour trip, but somewhere in the middle of Nebraska, my engine exploded. Big time. We spent many an hour on the side of the road making phone calls and trying to fix it. We ended up getting ahold of our sister church in Lincoln, Nebraska, who came and towed it for free, and also put us all up that night at their college group house, which was way awesome. God came through like none other, and after enjoying the unexpected time in Lincoln, we finished the trip to Iowa City, a day late and one car short. Things have been crazy ever since, but in a good way. The church here is unreal in its generosity, fellowship, and commitment. We're in the middle of a teching series on identity that is really incredible ... maybe in the future I'll post my thoughts on it. The apartments where we live are also unbeleivably posh, and we're staying for free in exchange for 18 hours of cleaning work each per week. Every Friday, we go evangelize in the downtown area, and Saturdays we go do service projects for the community. Some highlights since we've gotten here include seeing a girl that Leslie and I shared the gospel with start to build a relationship with Christ as the result of our meeting, getting to know a whole new group of people both at Mars Hill and within our own Fort Collins group, praying outside beneath a sky filled with thunder and lightning, playing ultimate frisbee, going to a countryside bonfire last night, and playing bassoon for money in the downtown area. Lowlights include cutting my knee on a piece of broken bike reflector. That was big drama. I was alone in the apartment and it was bleeding like crazy, so I went to go get help from the people who were working on the second floor -- in the process, I tracked little bloody footprints the length of the hallway on this floor, up the stairs, and the whole length of the hallway on the second floor. My friends who had to clean it up were less than thrilled with me, I'm sure. Another highlight / lowlight was yesterday, when my friend John and I set out for Lincoln to reclaim my car, now with a new engine, from the shop where we left it. A guy from the church here offered to fly us there (Cessna 172 Skyhawk, if you're wondering), which was way fun and exciting. We had a little adventure on the way back trying to navigate Omaha and also eating at the weirdest little vegetarian hippie restauraunt. As we got closer to Iowa City, the engine was starting to act a little iffy, and as we were driving up the hill to our apartment building, it died and had to be pushed the last twenty feet of the journey. Not exactly a triumphant homecoming. This car is becoming tha bane of my existence. All in all, it's been a fun and challenging experience here so far ... I'm growing a ton and not looking forward to leaving in only a month ... I feel like we just got here. So there you have it -- maybe my next post will have more quality instead of quantity. I hope you're happy, Eddie. I'll leave y'all with this to ponder: I'm sitting here at Rae's computer and right out the window I can see a groundskeeper guy watering plants. He's leaning up on a railing in the shade with his head on his arms and the hose hanging slackly from one hand, and he's been watering the same little plant for about twenty minutes now. I'm pretty sure he's asleep.

Challenged by His Greatness,
Liz

Beatniks unite!

2005-04-21T16:31:00.000-06:00

It's been awhile since I posted and I want people to know I'm still alive, but I don't have much to say just now (at least, nothing blog-appropriate). So in lieu of a legitimate entry, I'm just posting a couple of my old poems. The first one is in memory of my dead pet lobster, and the second one is pretty self-explanatory. Enjoy.

Pinchy’s Lament

I awoke this lovely morning and I hastened to your side
‘Twas there I saw with anguished heart: Alas! Alack! You’d died!
Pinchy, dearest Pinchy, my most chitinous of friends,
What could it be that brought you down to such a bitter end?

Did I overfeed you, underfeed you, fail to meet your needs?
Was it holy retribution for unspeakable misdeeds?
Did you suffer indigestion from the latest fish you ate?
Did you die of broken heart because you lacked a lobster mate?

Did you find yourself the victim of aquatic homicide?
Was it accident or illness? Did your will to live subside?
Whether act of God or twist of fate or malice unpoliced,
The fact remains, sad though it be: our Pinchy is deceased.

No more shall exoskeletons be found amongst the mail;
No more crustacean exploits shall I narrate in detail.
No more shall your conundrums be a tax on my reserves;
No more shall neon tetras serve as luminous hors d'oeuvres.

The time has come, my lobster pal, for me to say adieu
(Although I must confess I thought of making Pinchy stew).
With heavy heart and misty eyes, I bid farewell to thee
And hope you’re catching lots of fish, up there in heaven’s sea.
--fin--

Prayer of Innocence and Experience

I confess that I’m too proud to call your name
Even as my heart sails toward the cliffs.
And at the urging of my self-sought flesh,
I claim as trophies things you gave as gifts.

I know I get in bed with worldly lies.
I know I’m ill-prepared to run your race.
Though I faint amid a desert of despair,
I wake upon the ocean of your grace.

O Father, in whose hands the heavens lie!
Jesus, starlit, glorious, and true!
Holy Spirit, fire that melts my heart!
In brokenness I lift this prayer to you:

Make foolish everything I think I know.
Make harmless every empty threat I fear.
Make silent every voice that drowns out yours.
Make trivial the world that I hold dear.

I pray that with a humble heart I’d heed
The firm correction of your shepherd’s crook
I pray that I may see your glory shine
In places I would never think to look.

Make fruitless any other source of hope
Than Blessed Hope, which flows from you in streams.
May love for you pervade my every thought,
That I would praise you even in my dreams.

Thanks for playing, kiddos. Maybe more soon.
Soli Deo Gloria,
Liz

"For the wages of sleep is pretzel ..."

2005-04-09T00:58:00.000-06:00

Seriously, people, you can't fall asleep in a public lounge with a two-pound bag of pretzels lying on the table and not expect something like this to happen. I love you guys, but you really should have seen this one coming.

All In Good Fun,
Liz

2005-04-09T00:57:00.000-06:00

Abra

2005-04-09T00:53:00.000-06:00

Monika

2005-04-09T00:52:00.001-06:00

Eddie #2

2005-04-09T00:52:00.000-06:00

Eddie #1

Photographic Evidence of Productivity

2005-04-07T13:10:00.000-06:00

The two pictures below prove that I do, from time to time, actually lift a finger. I even vacuumed. By the way, does anyone know how to put two pictures in a single post? I'd be much obliged for some technical advice.

2005-04-07T12:04:00.001-06:00

Before

2005-04-07T12:04:00.000-06:00

After

Vignettes of a Typical Monday

2005-04-05T00:58:00.000-06:00

I. In Which our Heroine Occasions to Lose a Small Dead Frog Amongst her Possessions.

After taking the picture of the dead frog in its little quarentine container (see previous post), I accidentally knocked it of the desk and spilled the dead frog and dead frog's water all over the pile of stuff surrounding my desk. I then proceeded to spend about five minutes crawling on my hands and knees sifting through piles of homework and other things, looking for a tiny frog corpse. I finally found it stuck fast to a wooden box, and pretty much had to scrape it back into the container. I think I almost retched. Also, the water went all over everything -- my homework, some textbooks, and yes, on my bed. The same bed I'm sitting in now and the same bed that I will (hopefully) sleep in tonight. I'm just trying not to think about it. Denial is a whole lot easier than washing sheets at 11:30 at night.

II. In Which our Heroine is Chased by her Theory Professor and Narrowly Evades Capture.

Another funny thing happened a little later, at the music building. I have Theory at 10:00, and then Studio at 11:00 in the same room (but with a different prof). I definitely skipped Theory this morning, but decided that I couldn't afford to miss Studio, so I got to the music building at about 10:50, just as classes were getting out. I didn't want to see my Theory prof and have him ask why I hadn't just been in class, so being the mature young woman that I am, I hid around a corner and spied on the classroom until he left for his office. Well, either I did a terrible job of hiding or Dr. Metz has some freakish intuition, because as soon as he walked out of the classroom he looked directly at me. I saw about a half-second's worth of realization on his face as he thought something along the lines of, "Hey! Isn't that Liz? Shouldn't she have been in class?" An odd mix of panic and rebellion took over me, and I did the thing that any self-respecting class-ditcher would do: I bolted. I took off down the nearest hallway, and when I turned to see if I had been tailed I saw at the end of the hall my friend Loren, talking to someone I couldn't see but who I was pretty sure was Metz. I heard Loren say something like, "Yeah, actually, she just ran down this hall" and saw him point in my direction (the traitor!). So I turned on my heel and took off again, this time down a back stairwell and into the basement. I don't know if Metz followed me down the stairs or not, but either way I definitely gave him the slip because I didn't see him again and made it safely to Studio class. Retrospectively, it was pretty surreal and also pretty awesome. Seriously -- how often do you get the chance to run away, James Bond-style, from one of your professors? I guess I'll find out Wednesday if I'm in big trouble or not.

III. In Which our Heroine Avoids, by Means of a Blog Entry, the Same Takehome Test which she Avoided Last Night (by the Same Means) and Upon Which she is Now Convicted to Work Diligently Until its Completion.

'Nuff said ... time to hit the books. I just wish the books didn't still have yucky frog water all over them.

Found in Him,
Liz

2005-04-04T10:24:00.000-06:00

Only the good die young, they say.

... And I hoped for things unseen

2005-04-03T23:50:00.000-06:00

I believed in what I hoped for,
And I hoped for things unseen.
I had wings and dreams could soar;
I just don't feel like flying any more.

I think I'll start this weblog* off with a confession. It seems fitting, seeing as how journals are supposed to be a safehaven of vulnerability and soul-baring and other touchy-feely things. Well, the confession is this: I've created this log for two reasons, and both of them are terrible ones. The first reason is that I have a rather sizable take-home test that I really, really should be working on now. The more important an assignment is and the nearer it is to the due date, the greater lengths I will go to in order to avoid doing it. The second reason is that everyone else is doing it. Yep, I'm just that lemming-esque; everyone else has a blog, and I've been feeling technologically inadequate. Well, I'm glad to have gotten that out in the open! On to the tedious introspection.

*(Contrary to popular belief, this word is actually pronounced with a heavy emphasis on the second syllable, sort of like weh-BLOG. Consult Eddie or Chris for a more detailed explanation.)

Verse to ponder: Lamentations 3:22-24
Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
I say to myself, "The LORD is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him."

I believe, in a far-off and detached sort of manner, that God is a Renewer: of my soul, of the world, of that wayward flock called humanity. But, to follow in the theme of confession, I admit that I struggle to connect my heart with this truth. I have a suspicion as to why this is. It's because renewal necessarily entails change, and in my flesh, change is the last thing I want. Change is frightening because it brings with it all sorts of unseemly possibilities like struggle, sacrifice, and uncomfortability. And so it is that I resist change, in my life and in my heart -- even at the expense of my own renewal. Is it any wonder, then, that I feel tired and dissatisfied? The unadorned truth of the matter is that change isn't comfortable, nor safe. There is no guarantee that struggle and sacrifice won't follow close on its heels. But then, the Spirit guides me to think on the life of Christ, on Him who was changed from the subject of ceaseless praise to the object mockery and derision, and whose glorious dwellingplace was changed into a lowly manger. Such a somber precedent makes it harder than ever for me to deny that change can bring pain, but it also shows me the full extent of the measures God takes to redeem those whom he loves. It also gives me hope that a willingness to endure change in my own life will be met with gracious rewards that exceed my comprehension. So, what's the hangup? Why am I still here engaging in self-gratifying rationalization and that ageless art of fence-sitting? It's not insecurity. It's not prudence, nor even hesitence. It's a lack of faith, masquerading itself as a fear of change.

"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." -Hebrews 11:1

The faithlessness of my heart is revealed to me when, as I dwell upon my eternal citizenship and my hope in Christ, I am neither assured nor convicted. I have ideas of heaven, and notions of fellowship with God, but they are tentative and fragile, and they seem all too good to be true. A heart that has been burned by disillusionment and frozen by apathy is naturally slow to accept such untainted notions as grace, paradise, and the sovereignty of a boundless God who knows and yet loves me. After all, such things fly in the face of everything the world has taught me. I'm simultaneously clinging to conventional wisdom and straining toward a reckless trust in God -- and only now am I coming to terms with the fact that I can't have both. When God calls me to change, he also calls me to choose. I'm faced with a choice between the comfort, reliability, mediocrity and placidness of the status quo, or the danger, hardship, glory, and freshness of the life he's laid before me. There comes a time for throwing caution to the wind, and all indications are that now is that time. I feel called to cast my hope on an unsafe God and to put my trust in an invisible glory. Will it be easy? I have no such illusions. Will it be comfortable? I hope not. Will it be glorious beyond all reckoning? Undoubtedly ... undoubtedly.

By the strength of the Lion's heart, by the grace of Him who makes all things new, I draw a breath and take the plunge. And so my life begins ... I'm going in.