thejakers

My friend Dennis Gable has been exploring the dynamic between pain and identity over at his blog. Yesterday was a particularly interesting post, and I joined in on the discussion. Give it a read here and chip in if you have something to add.

One thing you’ll find about Dennis is that he’s not afraid of being raw, and you’ll see that in his posts.

Interestingly, as I was reading Spurgeon’s Morning by Morning, today’s passage was on pain–and I think particularly poignant. Dennis, this is for you buddy:

It was but a little while ago that on thy knees thou was saying, “Lord, I fear I have no faith: let me know that I have faith.” Was not this really, though perhaps unconsciously, praying for trials? – for how canst thou know that thou hast faith until thy faith is exercised? Depend upon it, God often sends trials that our graces may be discovered, and that we may be certified of their existence. Besides, it is not merely discovery, real growth in grace is the result of sanctified trials. God often takes away our comforts and our privileges in order to make us better Christians. He trains His soldiers, not in tents of ease and luxury, but by turning them out and using them to forced marches and hard service.

I’d be curious, after reading Dennis’ post and Spurgeon’s thoughts here, how do you view your pain and trials in your life?

Almighty God, you have created us out of the dust of the earth: Grant that these ashes may be to us a sign of our mortality and penitence, that we may remember that it is only by your gracious gift that we are given everlasting life; through Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen

Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.

– From The Book of Common Prayer

For a great overview of the meaning and symbolism of Ash Wednesday, see my friend Bill Streger’s post on his blog.

A great quote by Matt Chandler found over at People of the Second Chance:

“Nobody ever stood at the base of the Rocky Mountains and turned to their friend and was like, ‘Remember in high school when I could bench press 285 lbs? That was great. I really was powerful back then.’ I mean, the entire universe is built around communicating to you that you’re tiny and you’re fragile and you control nothing.”

In light of my studies in Job, which I’ve blogged about here, I’m looking forward to reading Piper’s new book, A Sweet and Bitter Providence: Sex, Race, and the Sovereignty of God. Here is a great little intro video promoting the book.

Tony Jones is reflecting on his blog on Luke 2:41-52. He posts this little gem that he found while studying:

As the Gospel in miniature, this story from Luke 1-2 tells of a preliminary journey to Jerusalem. It’s a story of going to Jerusalem for the Passover and finding that Jesus isn’t with us anymore. Where is he?

“After three days, they found him in the temple.” It’s a story about the crucifixion and the resurrection. It’s the overture, so that when we get to the journey to Jerusalem, we’ll remember something about it. You come away, Jesus isn’t with you, you’re anxious about it. At the very end of the Gospel, Jesus will tell his disciples to meet him in Jerusalem, from where they will go out to the ends of the earth, the second volume of Luke’s story.

It’s a rehearsal of the Easter story, and it ends on the theme of Luke’s infancy narratives: “Mary treasured all these things in her heart.

Great quote from Packer via Justin Taylor’s blog on the use of the Internet.

“I’m amazed at the amount of time people spend on the internet. I’m not against technology, but all tools should be used to their best advantage. We should be spending our time on things that have staying power, instead of on the latest thought of the latest blogger—and then moving on quickly to the next blogger. That makes us more superficial, not more thoughtful.”—J.I. Packer, in World Magazine

As a writer, I should know better than to read Annie Dillard. She always makes me feel inferior. I leave you with this gem from her memoir, An American Childhood:

“The adult members of society adverted to the Bible unreasonably often. What arcana! Why did they spread this scandalous document before our eyes? If they had read it, I thought, they would have hid it. They didn’t recognize the vivid danger that we would, through repeated exposure, catch a case of its wild opposition to their world. Instead, they bade us study great chunks of it, and think about those chunks, and commit them to memory, and ignore them. By dipping us children in the Bible so often, they hoped, I think, to give our lives a serious tint, and to provide us with quaintly magnificent snatches of prayer to produce charms while, say, being mugged for our cash or jewels.”