Yet Again...
...I shall be blogging about Five Iron Frenzy. Someday soon I'll post a review of the album The End is Here, but I don't have time today. Here is one thing, though.
Why is FIF so popular?
A lot of people wonder why this band was so popular. They didn't have great voices, per se, and it's ska, so it's not exactly the most musically sophisticated sound. They sung about their pants, and Combat Chuck, and blue combs; not the most intelligent of all lyrics.
So why are they so well loved?
Well, firstly, because they didn't try to be rock stars. They were normal people. I wrote to them one time, and got a letter back from a member of the band, giving me her e-mail address. We chatted back and forth a few times, and one time she even sent me a postcard. It had a picture of Spam on it: I loved it.
Secondly, they acknowledged brokeness and failure, but not in the way that most bands do. Most people swing between the extremes of "no negativity, ever," and "let's talk about all the dark things in life, all the time, and tack Jesus onto the end of it to make it Christian." FIF generally didn't fall into either error. They basically said, "Hey, it's life. There's good stuff, there's rotten stuff. The good stuff is a gift: appreciate it, experience it fully. The bad stuff stinks but can push you closer to Christ. Accept it, welcome it, experience it fully." For example, here's a quote from the song "Cannonball":
"Wind passes right through my skin as I fall down, this furious speed will only destroy me.
Crippling and devastating momentum, approaching maximum velocity.
And this is how it's going to be, the point of it all.
'Cause this is what was meant for me, recklessly I fall.
Hulking, smashing, I come crashing, nothing like when I was small.
I am unstoppable, I am the cannonball.
That feeble coward that you knew, has undergone an overhaul.
I am unstoppable, I am the cannonball.
And everyone will say it's just an accident, like some mishap or a tragedy.
I think that failure has a purpose, and I don't believe it's chance if I fall.
And I know that if I ever do fall, He will catch me.
And if He ever lets me fall down, for the good of those who believe Him,
He will make me into a cannonball.
Unblemished, and faultless. A burning luminescence.
Unequaled precision, beyond your scope of vision. Cannonball."
Thirdly, they were ok with criticizing the church when it did go wrong, but not blindly condemning it. Most Christian bands will either say nothing bad about anything Christian, or will blame all of Christian culture and the Church for everything that's wrong. FIF, though they sometimes might have gone a bit too far, never really ended up in either camp.
Fourthly: Their songs acknowledged human brokeness, sin, and coldheartedness without being depressing. Sin was never pointed out without a mention of the grace that heals.
My new favorite FIF song illustrates this:
"I have been scarred so deep by life and cold despair, and brittle bones were broken far beyond repair.
I have leveled lies so deep, the truth may never find.
And inside my faithless heart, I stole things never mine.
If mercy falls upon the broken and the poor, Dear Father, I will see you, there on distant shores.
I have toiled for countless years and ever felt the cost,
and I've been burned by this world's cold, like leaves beneath the frost.
On my knees I've crawled to You, bleeding myself dry. But the price of life is more, than I could ever buy.
If mercy falls upon the broken and the poor, Dear Father, I will see you, there on distant shores.
And off of the blocks, I was headstrong and proud,
at the front of the line for the card-carrying, highbrowed.
With both eyes fastened tight, yet unscarred from the fight.
Running at full tilt, my sword pulled from its hilt.
It's funny how these things can slip away, our frail deeds, the last will wave good-bye.
It's funny how the hope will bleed away, the citadels we build and fortify. Good-Bye.
Night came and I broke my stride, I swallowed hard, but never cried.
When grace was easy to forget, I'd denounce the hypocrites,
casting first stones, killing my own.
You would unscale my blind eyes, and I stood battered, but more wise,
fighting to accelerate, shaking free from crippling weight.
With resilience unsurpassed, I clawed my way to You at last.
And on my knees, I wept at Your feet,
I finally believed, that You still loved me.
Healing hands of God have mercy on our unclean souls once again. Jesus Christ, Light of the World, burning bright within our hearts forever. Freedom means love without condition, without beginning or an end. Here's my heart, let it be forever Yours, only You can make every new day seem so new."
Fifthly, they created a niche for some very odd people to exist in. Most of Christian culture has been very serious and solemn, and while that's good, there's often no place for people who are slightly random. So when FIF sang about how these were not their pants, and going out into the street and getting hit by cars, and the kingdom of the dinosaurs, we laughed and knew that there was a place for us.
Thursday, February 17
Monday, February 14
Not sure if I've blogged about this song before, but here it is.
This is the theme song from the show Firefly, which sadly got cancelled before it's first season ended, due to producers at Fox deciding that reality shows deserved more airtime than creative sci-fi. Grrr!
This is the theme song from the show Firefly, which sadly got cancelled before it's first season ended, due to producers at Fox deciding that reality shows deserved more airtime than creative sci-fi. Grrr!
Take my love, take my land
Take me where I cannot stand
I don't care, I'm still free
You can't take the sky from me
Take me out to the black
Tell them I ain't comin' back
Burn the land and boil the sea
You can't take the sky from me
There's no place I can be
Since I found Serenity
But you can't take the sky from me...
I really connect to this song. Some of it is probably that I come from Texas, home of the wide open skies and fiercely independent people. This is largely my attitude towards people who try to control me (not instruct: control). You can take everything away, and I'll still be free.
Monday, February 7
Heh.
Mysterious, elegant, creative and calmYou are a sprite of the Water. Creative and one of
the most beautiful of sprites, you strike
wonder and curiosity into the hearts and minds
of all. Even though you are capable of
attraction and seduction you are way above all
that, you understand the true meaning of life
and are very open and understanding of life's
mysteries, most likely you are one of them. You
are respectful of all ways of life and do not
judge one due to their position or station in
life. You are gifted in the ways of
understanding and given the chance are usually
full of good, wise advice but your not the type
to take the stand and express such things. Your
laid back nature can be troubling, you don't
take many risks and prefer to keep things as
they are. You are one of the most unique of
sprites.
.::=What type of Mythical Sprite are you?=::. -With Anime Pictures and detailed answers-
brought to you by
Mysterious, elegant, creative and calmYou are a sprite of the Water. Creative and one of
the most beautiful of sprites, you strike
wonder and curiosity into the hearts and minds
of all. Even though you are capable of
attraction and seduction you are way above all
that, you understand the true meaning of life
and are very open and understanding of life's
mysteries, most likely you are one of them. You
are respectful of all ways of life and do not
judge one due to their position or station in
life. You are gifted in the ways of
understanding and given the chance are usually
full of good, wise advice but your not the type
to take the stand and express such things. Your
laid back nature can be troubling, you don't
take many risks and prefer to keep things as
they are. You are one of the most unique of
sprites.
.::=What type of Mythical Sprite are you?=::. -With Anime Pictures and detailed answers-
brought to you by
Sunday, February 6
Thinking
My priest said something the other night that made me think.
A group of us were gathered at a parishoner's house for our monthly meeting; the bishop had planned to join us, but had had to back out at the last minute. We met anyway, and our priest spent most of the time telling pastoral stories (which I love to hear.)
At one point, someone asked him what he thought the theme of his ministry was, or the things he emphasized, or something like that. He thought for a moment and said, among other things, that one gift he really did have was a deep and profound respect for women, as images of the Virgin Mary, as well as for themselves. He said that he loved the innocence and purity that is apropos to women, and that the thing that made him more mad than anything else was a person who would do anything to damage those virtues.
I've been thinking about that all week. I hadn't really realized it, but that is one of the things I like best about my priest. He respects me not just as a person, but as a woman. I appreciate that he treats the women in the congregation as women, not just parishoners. Oh dear, this is not sounding quite right...Hmm.
He was one of the first ones that I told about my decision to be content with singleness, and has always been one of the biggest supporters of that decision. His comment the other night gave me a tiny, faint, glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, he might see a little tiny bit of the Holy Virgin, role model and patron of all women, in me. Maybe? I hope so. I want to be more like her. And I'm glad that there's someone out there who wants that for me, as well.
My priest said something the other night that made me think.
A group of us were gathered at a parishoner's house for our monthly meeting; the bishop had planned to join us, but had had to back out at the last minute. We met anyway, and our priest spent most of the time telling pastoral stories (which I love to hear.)
At one point, someone asked him what he thought the theme of his ministry was, or the things he emphasized, or something like that. He thought for a moment and said, among other things, that one gift he really did have was a deep and profound respect for women, as images of the Virgin Mary, as well as for themselves. He said that he loved the innocence and purity that is apropos to women, and that the thing that made him more mad than anything else was a person who would do anything to damage those virtues.
I've been thinking about that all week. I hadn't really realized it, but that is one of the things I like best about my priest. He respects me not just as a person, but as a woman. I appreciate that he treats the women in the congregation as women, not just parishoners. Oh dear, this is not sounding quite right...Hmm.
He was one of the first ones that I told about my decision to be content with singleness, and has always been one of the biggest supporters of that decision. His comment the other night gave me a tiny, faint, glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, he might see a little tiny bit of the Holy Virgin, role model and patron of all women, in me. Maybe? I hope so. I want to be more like her. And I'm glad that there's someone out there who wants that for me, as well.
Friday, February 4
Atlas Shrugged
I am re-reading this book. I don't know why I like it, really. The characters are sort of compelling, but not very. You've really only got two types of characters, and only little tiny variations in each individual. The book is FAR too preachy, almost to the point of being unreadable.
But I still get fascinated by it. Maybe it's because I think Ayn Rand is right about some things. I learned some interesting economic things by reading Atlas Shrugged. It confirmed a lot of things I'd been told, but did a better job of explaining them. For instance, I'd always been told that big government was not a good idea, and that it wrecked businesses. I didn't really understand that, until I saw it play out in the book.
But I know there's got to be a flaw in her arguments somewhere. She applies the same system to morality as she does to economics, and there's where it seems to break down. She's built up a lot of straw men for Christianity and religion in general, and it's not too hard to argue against that...but I feel there's still something I can't quite put my finger on.
I am re-reading this book. I don't know why I like it, really. The characters are sort of compelling, but not very. You've really only got two types of characters, and only little tiny variations in each individual. The book is FAR too preachy, almost to the point of being unreadable.
But I still get fascinated by it. Maybe it's because I think Ayn Rand is right about some things. I learned some interesting economic things by reading Atlas Shrugged. It confirmed a lot of things I'd been told, but did a better job of explaining them. For instance, I'd always been told that big government was not a good idea, and that it wrecked businesses. I didn't really understand that, until I saw it play out in the book.
But I know there's got to be a flaw in her arguments somewhere. She applies the same system to morality as she does to economics, and there's where it seems to break down. She's built up a lot of straw men for Christianity and religion in general, and it's not too hard to argue against that...but I feel there's still something I can't quite put my finger on.
Lent
Lent is coming up again. And again, I take a slightly perverse pleasure in the fact that Valentine's Day occurs during Lent. So much for giving your sweetie a box of chocolates!
But that aside...I'm kind of looking forward to Lent. I don't like giving stuff up, but I know it's a good thing to do, and I always do feel better afterwards. Not that it's about feeling better because it isn't, but still.
I wish I'd taken the time to focus on Christmas this year. Christmas and Advent in general are times to remember Christ's first coming, and look forward to His coming again in power and great glory. But I lost focus this year, as every year. Lent is easier because the preperation time is longer, and I spend the whole time with my church family, instead of spending half my time in a different and unfamiliar church. On top of that, there's my whole tendency to have a melancholy disposition. So I generally tend to like this whole season.
Besides, Easter means so much more when you've spent 40 days not singing "allelujahs" or seeing the crucifix, and then, on Good Friday, when the last of the Sacrament is consumed, the church is stripped, and left barren...That's hard to see. But then, on Easter, when the small Paschal fire is lit in the darkness, and we all pass quietly into the church with our lights. Our own little lights, not really enough for us to see by, and certainly not enough for anybody else to see by. But then, suddenly, the choir bursts into joyful song, all the lights are turned on full blast, and bells everywhere start to ring! He is risen!
But right now it's almost Lent, time to be quiet and think. The Resurrection comes, and will come to all who abide in Him, but it is not yet. Now is the time for quiet.
Selah.
Lent is coming up again. And again, I take a slightly perverse pleasure in the fact that Valentine's Day occurs during Lent. So much for giving your sweetie a box of chocolates!
But that aside...I'm kind of looking forward to Lent. I don't like giving stuff up, but I know it's a good thing to do, and I always do feel better afterwards. Not that it's about feeling better because it isn't, but still.
I wish I'd taken the time to focus on Christmas this year. Christmas and Advent in general are times to remember Christ's first coming, and look forward to His coming again in power and great glory. But I lost focus this year, as every year. Lent is easier because the preperation time is longer, and I spend the whole time with my church family, instead of spending half my time in a different and unfamiliar church. On top of that, there's my whole tendency to have a melancholy disposition. So I generally tend to like this whole season.
Besides, Easter means so much more when you've spent 40 days not singing "allelujahs" or seeing the crucifix, and then, on Good Friday, when the last of the Sacrament is consumed, the church is stripped, and left barren...That's hard to see. But then, on Easter, when the small Paschal fire is lit in the darkness, and we all pass quietly into the church with our lights. Our own little lights, not really enough for us to see by, and certainly not enough for anybody else to see by. But then, suddenly, the choir bursts into joyful song, all the lights are turned on full blast, and bells everywhere start to ring! He is risen!
But right now it's almost Lent, time to be quiet and think. The Resurrection comes, and will come to all who abide in Him, but it is not yet. Now is the time for quiet.
Selah.
Thursday, February 3
A Belated Grateful Farewell
I know that no-one to whom this is directed will ever read this blog. But I need to say it anyway:
Five Iron Frenzy, thank you. For all the years that you gave us good, fun music, thank you. For all the songs that made us laugh, thank you. For all the insane bonus tracks and live goofs, thank you.
To those of you who don't know who or what Five Iron Frenzy is, let me explain.
Five Iron Frenzy is a Christian ska band that specialized in silly songs (such as the These Are Not My Pants rock opera) juxtaposed with incredibly insightful songs (such as Every New Day). They played for years, and got better all the time. They were very real, about the good things and the bad things.
I wrote them a letter after my first year in college, thanking them for their music. A member of the band wrote back to me several times, and even e-mailed me once or twice. They are good people, with a crazy sense of humor.
Their last tour has been over for a while now. The band Five Iron Frenzy, technically, no longer exists. But I sit here in the library, listening to a live track from their last tour.
They were singing the song Every New Day:
When I was young, the smallest trick of light,
Could catch my eye,
Then life was new and every new day,
I thought that I could fly.
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 anymore.
When the stars threw down their spears,
Watered Heaven with their tears,
Before words were spoken,
Before eternity.
Dear Father, I need you,
Your strength my heart to mend.
I want to fly higher,
Every new day again.
When I was small, the furthest I could reach,
Was not so high,
Then I thought the world was so much smaller,
Feeling that I could fly.
Through distant deeps and skies,
Behind infinity,
Below the face of Heaven,
He stoops to create me.
Dear Father, I need you,
Your strength my heart to mend.
I want to fly higher,
Every new day again.
You are not alone
You are not alone
You are not alone
You were never alone.
Man versus himself.
Man versus machine.
Man versus the world.
Mankind versus me.
The struggles go on,
The wisdom I lack,
The burdens keep pilling
Up on my back.
So hard to breathe,
To take the next step.
The mountain is high,
I wait in the depths.
Yearning for grace,
And hoping for peace.
Dear God...Increase.
Healing hands of God have mercy on our unclean souls once again.
Jesus Christ, light of the world burning bright within our hearts forever.
Freedom means love without condition,without a beginning or an end.
Here's my heart, let it be forever Your's,
Only You can make every new day seem so new.
At the end, the crowd--knowing that the end was near--simply began chanting "Thank you," over and over again. The band ended the song, and slowly moved into "Amazing Grace." Then the lead singer, Reese, began to talk about ending, and passing on the mantle to the next generation. Then, mentioning the snow falling outside, the track ended with Five Iron Frenzy and the concert crowd singing "Silent Night."
Thank you, FIF. We will miss you. A bright spark of humor and insight has passed.
I know that no-one to whom this is directed will ever read this blog. But I need to say it anyway:
Five Iron Frenzy, thank you. For all the years that you gave us good, fun music, thank you. For all the songs that made us laugh, thank you. For all the insane bonus tracks and live goofs, thank you.
To those of you who don't know who or what Five Iron Frenzy is, let me explain.
Five Iron Frenzy is a Christian ska band that specialized in silly songs (such as the These Are Not My Pants rock opera) juxtaposed with incredibly insightful songs (such as Every New Day). They played for years, and got better all the time. They were very real, about the good things and the bad things.
I wrote them a letter after my first year in college, thanking them for their music. A member of the band wrote back to me several times, and even e-mailed me once or twice. They are good people, with a crazy sense of humor.
Their last tour has been over for a while now. The band Five Iron Frenzy, technically, no longer exists. But I sit here in the library, listening to a live track from their last tour.
They were singing the song Every New Day:
When I was young, the smallest trick of light,
Could catch my eye,
Then life was new and every new day,
I thought that I could fly.
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 anymore.
When the stars threw down their spears,
Watered Heaven with their tears,
Before words were spoken,
Before eternity.
Dear Father, I need you,
Your strength my heart to mend.
I want to fly higher,
Every new day again.
When I was small, the furthest I could reach,
Was not so high,
Then I thought the world was so much smaller,
Feeling that I could fly.
Through distant deeps and skies,
Behind infinity,
Below the face of Heaven,
He stoops to create me.
Dear Father, I need you,
Your strength my heart to mend.
I want to fly higher,
Every new day again.
You are not alone
You are not alone
You are not alone
You were never alone.
Man versus himself.
Man versus machine.
Man versus the world.
Mankind versus me.
The struggles go on,
The wisdom I lack,
The burdens keep pilling
Up on my back.
So hard to breathe,
To take the next step.
The mountain is high,
I wait in the depths.
Yearning for grace,
And hoping for peace.
Dear God...Increase.
Healing hands of God have mercy on our unclean souls once again.
Jesus Christ, light of the world burning bright within our hearts forever.
Freedom means love without condition,without a beginning or an end.
Here's my heart, let it be forever Your's,
Only You can make every new day seem so new.
At the end, the crowd--knowing that the end was near--simply began chanting "Thank you," over and over again. The band ended the song, and slowly moved into "Amazing Grace." Then the lead singer, Reese, began to talk about ending, and passing on the mantle to the next generation. Then, mentioning the snow falling outside, the track ended with Five Iron Frenzy and the concert crowd singing "Silent Night."
Thank you, FIF. We will miss you. A bright spark of humor and insight has passed.
Tuesday, January 25
I want to grow up to be her.
From The King's Business, Vol. 12, January 1921. Pages 21-25
Making the Most of Life: A Tribute to the Memory of Mrs. T.C.Horton Who Departed October 10th.
"To be with Christ is far, far better." --Phil. 1:23
On Sunday evening, October 10, 1920, just as the sun was fading from sight, and the people were gathering for the regular weekly Twilight Communion Service in the Church of the Open Door, a little woman closed her eyes and slipped away in obedience to the call of her Master-- "Well done, thou good and faithful servant: enter thou into the joy of the Lord."
The announcement of her home-going, which was made a few hours later to the vast congregation assembled for evening worship in the auditorium, brought a sense of shock and personal loss to those of the audience who were privileged to know her--and these were many. When on the following Tuesday her friends gathered to look for the last time on her loved face, they came, not by hundreds, but literally by thousands--a great company--sorrowing not as those who have no hope, but rejoicing in the coronation of a life of loving service.
Who was she and what had she done to merit such a demonstration in her honor? Just a modest, retiring, homeloving little woman, who--having first given her own self to the Lord--had heard his call for service and answered "Here am I." Truly it was for others that she lived, giving unstintedly of her time, her strength, her effort, and her heart's love to those with any sort of need, from the highest to the lowest, rich and poor, wise and ignorant, with no thought of commendation or reward, actuated only by the constraining love of Christ.
How wonderfully does her life attest to the truth of that saying of the Lord Jesus, "Faithful in that which is least--faithful also in much." It was ever her way to "do the next thing," no matter how seemingly unimportant, thus preparing the way for the larger service which was given her, the influence of which has been felt in almost every nation of the world, through the women and girls who, inspired by her life, her teaching and her example, have been led to dedicate themselves to the service of Christ.
Her Earlier Life
"Mother" Horton was born some sixty-eight years ago in Rome, N.Y. Early environment had little to do in influencing her to choose the path of self-sacrificing devotion to Christ,--for, though surrounded by every comfort and advantage that a loving father and mother could provice, hers was a Universalist home, where the latch string was always out for ministers of that faith, and she attended a Universalist college, giving the valedictory address at her graduation.
But "God moves in mysterious ways His wonders to perform," and He has His own way of bringing His purposes to pass. Little Anna Kingsbury (for that was her maiden name) was extremely musical, and when she attended the Universalist church always played the organ. But the church was small and often no meetings were held in it, and at such times her services as an organist were in demand at the Presbyterian church. She was not "between two fires," for there was no fire in the sermons preached in the Universalist church, but in the Presbyterian church there was a good, old-fashioned preacher whose sermons--founded upon the Word of God--made the soul of the young girl restless until she sought and found Him who is "the Way, the Truth, and the Life."
Moving later to Indianapolis, she met a young business man, lately converted, Mr. Thomas C. Horton, who had responded to a call (as she herself had) for workers in a little Presbyterian Mission. Her husband says of her: "I saw her first on her own doorstep, as I happened to pass by her home, and never forgot her face. In the mission I saw her at the organ, and the services there suddenly became very attractive to me, especially the organ music. She was engaged at that time to marry a young Presbyterian minister but her father was opposed to the match, and I used my utmost endeavors to persuade her that it would be better to marry a business man than a minister, and was finally successful."
Mrs. Horton had a fine well-trained mezzo-soprano voice, and had been singing in a quartet in the leading Episcopal church of Indianapolis. Continuing their work in the mission, she taught a class of boys, and her husband took charge of the Primary (or as it was then called, the "Infant") Department of the Sunday School, where they spent many happy years, learning to do things by doing them.
With a cultured mind, practical ability, and a rarely unselfish devotion, this little woman grew in knowledge and in wisdom. Blessed with unusually good health, she gave not only the proper attention to the duties of the home, but gave instruction upon the organ (having many free pupils), and made her home a rendezvous for young people where they could come in touch with a happy, healthy, normal Christian atmosphere.
Unfolding of God’s Plan
The gradual unfolding of the plan of God for the lives of these two is seen in the call which came to Mr. Horton to take up the work of the secretaryship of the Y.M.C.A. which he accepted, although without any previous knowledge of definite Christian work, and with not much knowledge of the Bible. Following a successful term of service here, in which she was ever the constant helpmate of her husband, the family removed to St. Paul where Mr. Horton (having in the meantime fitted himself for the ministry and having been ordained in the Presbyterian Church), organized and ministered to a church of that denomination. Here, as always, Mrs. Horton had a large share in the work, teaching a splendid class of young boys.
In her home there were now four earnest daughters growing into Christian womanhood. The eldest, Jessie, who had dedicated her life to God for work in the foreign field, and expected to go to China as a missionary, was taken to be with her Lord at the age of twenty-four.
Later a call came to Mr. Horton from an important field in Philadelphia, where for four years he was Associate Pastor of the Bethany Presbyterian Church, of which Dr. Arthur T. Pierson was pastor, and John Wanamaker was Superintendent of the Sunday School. Here Mrs. Horton did a great work among the women and young girls, gaining the experience and knowledge which were afterwards so helpful to her in her work with the Lyceum Club and the Bible Women’s Department in the Bible Institute of Los Angeles.
In Dallas, Texas, where Mr. Horton was called to succeed Dr. C.I. Scofield as pastor of the First Congregational Church, Mrs. Horton, besides efficiently discharging the many and varied duties ordinarily devolving upon a pastor’s wife, organized and taught a class of boys, many of whom are now engaged in different forms of Christian work,-- one a missionary in Central America, another in charge of Christian Endeavor work for the Southwestern Territory, etc.
In January, 1906, the family came to Los Angeles in response to a call from the Immanuel Presbyterian Church, of which Mr. Horton became assistant Pastor. Mrs. Horton organized a woman’s class called the Eulogia Bible Class, which is still in existence, and has communicated with the family with the following words of comfort: "We feel the loss of a dear Christian friend and teacher, who was the founder of our Bible class almost fifteen years ago, and because of whose influence we are still endeavoring to reach a higher, nobler Christian life."
The Lyceum Club
With a heart full of love and sympathy for working girls, Mrs. Horton organized a club, which met in the Fifth Street Store, at the request of Mr. D.H. Steele, who was manager of the store at that time. To this organization she gave the name of Lyceum Club. Girls from the stores and business houses met one evening each week for Christian fellowship, a supper together, and a simple, practical, Bible lesson, dismissing at an early hour. This plan for the evening’s activities has never been changed. For a number of years after the organization of the Lyceum Club, Mrs. Horton took charge of the suppers served each week to this large company of girls, doing a large share of the work with her own hands. No task was ever too small for her to perform for the dear girls whom she loved so well.
Two years ago, because of failing health, Mrs. Horton gave up the teaching of this Club, but has always been its leader, and a true "Mother" to the girls. To many of them she was the only mother they knew. She had a real mother heart, and would remain frequently until a late hour, in order to bring comfort to the hearts of the sad girls, strength to the weak and disheartened, and the knowledge of Jesus Christ as Lord to those who did not know Him.
The attendance at the Lyceum Club today ranges from one hundred and seventy-five to two hundred and fifty. Thousands of lives have been touched through this work. Many of the girls have entered the Bible Institute and have gone to the foreign field, fully equipped missionaries, while many other have engaged in church work in the home land. Scarcely a Tuesday evening passes without one or more girls accepting the Lord Jesus Christ as their personal Savior. The Fishermen’s Club for young men, organized by Mr. Horton, together with the Lyceum Club, formed the nucleus of the Bible Institute of Los Angeles.
Bible Women’s Work
Inspired by the Zenana work of India, and as a result of a deeply felt need of reaching women in their homes in our own land, Mrs. Horton was used of God to institute her Bible Women’s work. Since the organization of the work in 1909 this band of devoted women have spent one entire morning each week in counsel and prayer. The rest of their time is devoted to meeting the needs of women as God may lead, visiting in the homes, teaching Bible classes, and administering comfort and help. God has wonderfully blessed this work, which is all done to His glory. This work began with three Bible women. Today the circle has grown to seventeen Bible women and five volunteer workers. God gave to Mrs. Horton a rare gift of discernment, and the band of women whom she gathered around her we believe cannot be excelled for ability in their work and consecration to God.
Feeling very strongly the need of reaching the girls for God at as early an age as possible, Mrs. Horton about ten years ago organized the work among High School girls. For a number of years weekly Bible classes have been held in some home or church near the schools, the number of classes varying from ten to twenty each week. There are now fifteen such classes in connection with the High and Intermediate schools of Los Angeles and vicinity. These classes gather together two or three times a year for a rally or for a social time together. The organization as a whole is known as the Euodia Club, --Euodia meaning fragrance—and the motto is, "Be fragrant for Christ." A number of these girls have become Institute students, and some are already engaged in definite Christian work.
The Funeral Services
The funeral services for Mrs. Horton were held in the main auditorium of the Bible Institute in the presence of a multitude of friends. Rev. Robert A. Hadden, an old time friend of the family, preached the funeral sermon. Dr. J.R. Pratt and Rev. Ralph Atkinson offered prayers , and solos were sung by Mr. C.M. Brooks and Mrs. Corinne Smith. Mrs. Smith sang the old hymn, "There Is Never a Day So Dreary." This same hymn was sung at funeral of Jessie Horton, Mrs. Horton herself playing the organ accompaniment. The Bible Institute male quartet also sang a beautiful hymn and the Bible Institute chimes during the service played "Rock of Ages," "Trust and Obey," and the Doxology. The whole service was very helpful and inspiring. Those who acted as pall-bearers were Mr. H.H. Fulton, Mr. J.P. Welles, Mr. C.L. Wells, Mr. J.M. Irvine, Mr. A.J. Johnson and Rev. J.H. Hunter.
By the time the great company of people had passed the casket to take their farewell look at their beloved friend, the hour was very late. Just at dusk, as the sun had set and the evening star appeared, her family and friends laid her away in Forest Lawn Cemetery. A brief but most beautiful and impressive service was held, closing with the following verse sung softly by the assembled friends:
"Sleep on, thou weary one, and take thy rest;
And lay thy head upon the Savior’s breast.
We love thee much, but Jesus loves thee best.
Sleep on, sleep on, sleep on."
Tributes From Loving Friends
"We all feel that Heaven has been brought a bit nearer and its ties made stronger by her departure to be with her Lord, whom she loved and served so faithfully. Many of us remember her many years’ of untiring devotion and service for the Lord as a mother to the Fishermen fellows, and now she rests from her labors, and her works do follow her."
"We think of how much ‘Mother’ Horton has gained to be in the glory and how we rejoice also to think of her life of devotion, of service, of hardship, of unselfishness and love for Him, and the work of the Gospel. How we envy her record and how glad we are to know what rich reward is awaiting her up there…Life is poorer without her, yet so much richer than before we knew her. She truly choose the best part—to live for Him, to serve Him in deep, true devotion, and to make her life count in the salvation of souls everywhere."
"Truly ‘Aunt Anna’ was a remarkable woman, and I cannot help but feel that she was an eye-witness to the scenes of today (the funeral services). I do not suppose, however, that it was worthy of mention compared to the demonstration Sunday evening when she entered the glory on the other side. I felt as though we were at the very gates of Heaven today, and wish that we might all have gone in."
"I cannot refrain from telling you how much Mrs. Horton has meant to my life. Ever since my arrival in Los Angeles she has addressed me as ‘Sonny’ and on several occasions introduced me to strangers as ‘her son,’ much to their surprise. But I was her son and she was my mother in a way she little realized for her sweet ways were constantly reminding me of my own dear mother who went to be with the Lord some years ago. She was always saying a word of encouragement to me just at the time when I most needed it, although she may not have known it. No one will miss her more than I."
"It was indeed ‘Christ for her to live.’ Her service was her ‘ruling passion,’ and now what must this gain of higher, untrammeled, all perfect service be to her, as she beholds the King in His beauty."
From The King's Business, Vol. 12, January 1921. Pages 21-25
Making the Most of Life: A Tribute to the Memory of Mrs. T.C.Horton Who Departed October 10th.
"To be with Christ is far, far better." --Phil. 1:23
On Sunday evening, October 10, 1920, just as the sun was fading from sight, and the people were gathering for the regular weekly Twilight Communion Service in the Church of the Open Door, a little woman closed her eyes and slipped away in obedience to the call of her Master-- "Well done, thou good and faithful servant: enter thou into the joy of the Lord."
The announcement of her home-going, which was made a few hours later to the vast congregation assembled for evening worship in the auditorium, brought a sense of shock and personal loss to those of the audience who were privileged to know her--and these were many. When on the following Tuesday her friends gathered to look for the last time on her loved face, they came, not by hundreds, but literally by thousands--a great company--sorrowing not as those who have no hope, but rejoicing in the coronation of a life of loving service.
Who was she and what had she done to merit such a demonstration in her honor? Just a modest, retiring, homeloving little woman, who--having first given her own self to the Lord--had heard his call for service and answered "Here am I." Truly it was for others that she lived, giving unstintedly of her time, her strength, her effort, and her heart's love to those with any sort of need, from the highest to the lowest, rich and poor, wise and ignorant, with no thought of commendation or reward, actuated only by the constraining love of Christ.
How wonderfully does her life attest to the truth of that saying of the Lord Jesus, "Faithful in that which is least--faithful also in much." It was ever her way to "do the next thing," no matter how seemingly unimportant, thus preparing the way for the larger service which was given her, the influence of which has been felt in almost every nation of the world, through the women and girls who, inspired by her life, her teaching and her example, have been led to dedicate themselves to the service of Christ.
Her Earlier Life
"Mother" Horton was born some sixty-eight years ago in Rome, N.Y. Early environment had little to do in influencing her to choose the path of self-sacrificing devotion to Christ,--for, though surrounded by every comfort and advantage that a loving father and mother could provice, hers was a Universalist home, where the latch string was always out for ministers of that faith, and she attended a Universalist college, giving the valedictory address at her graduation.
But "God moves in mysterious ways His wonders to perform," and He has His own way of bringing His purposes to pass. Little Anna Kingsbury (for that was her maiden name) was extremely musical, and when she attended the Universalist church always played the organ. But the church was small and often no meetings were held in it, and at such times her services as an organist were in demand at the Presbyterian church. She was not "between two fires," for there was no fire in the sermons preached in the Universalist church, but in the Presbyterian church there was a good, old-fashioned preacher whose sermons--founded upon the Word of God--made the soul of the young girl restless until she sought and found Him who is "the Way, the Truth, and the Life."
Moving later to Indianapolis, she met a young business man, lately converted, Mr. Thomas C. Horton, who had responded to a call (as she herself had) for workers in a little Presbyterian Mission. Her husband says of her: "I saw her first on her own doorstep, as I happened to pass by her home, and never forgot her face. In the mission I saw her at the organ, and the services there suddenly became very attractive to me, especially the organ music. She was engaged at that time to marry a young Presbyterian minister but her father was opposed to the match, and I used my utmost endeavors to persuade her that it would be better to marry a business man than a minister, and was finally successful."
Mrs. Horton had a fine well-trained mezzo-soprano voice, and had been singing in a quartet in the leading Episcopal church of Indianapolis. Continuing their work in the mission, she taught a class of boys, and her husband took charge of the Primary (or as it was then called, the "Infant") Department of the Sunday School, where they spent many happy years, learning to do things by doing them.
With a cultured mind, practical ability, and a rarely unselfish devotion, this little woman grew in knowledge and in wisdom. Blessed with unusually good health, she gave not only the proper attention to the duties of the home, but gave instruction upon the organ (having many free pupils), and made her home a rendezvous for young people where they could come in touch with a happy, healthy, normal Christian atmosphere.
Unfolding of God’s Plan
The gradual unfolding of the plan of God for the lives of these two is seen in the call which came to Mr. Horton to take up the work of the secretaryship of the Y.M.C.A. which he accepted, although without any previous knowledge of definite Christian work, and with not much knowledge of the Bible. Following a successful term of service here, in which she was ever the constant helpmate of her husband, the family removed to St. Paul where Mr. Horton (having in the meantime fitted himself for the ministry and having been ordained in the Presbyterian Church), organized and ministered to a church of that denomination. Here, as always, Mrs. Horton had a large share in the work, teaching a splendid class of young boys.
In her home there were now four earnest daughters growing into Christian womanhood. The eldest, Jessie, who had dedicated her life to God for work in the foreign field, and expected to go to China as a missionary, was taken to be with her Lord at the age of twenty-four.
Later a call came to Mr. Horton from an important field in Philadelphia, where for four years he was Associate Pastor of the Bethany Presbyterian Church, of which Dr. Arthur T. Pierson was pastor, and John Wanamaker was Superintendent of the Sunday School. Here Mrs. Horton did a great work among the women and young girls, gaining the experience and knowledge which were afterwards so helpful to her in her work with the Lyceum Club and the Bible Women’s Department in the Bible Institute of Los Angeles.
In Dallas, Texas, where Mr. Horton was called to succeed Dr. C.I. Scofield as pastor of the First Congregational Church, Mrs. Horton, besides efficiently discharging the many and varied duties ordinarily devolving upon a pastor’s wife, organized and taught a class of boys, many of whom are now engaged in different forms of Christian work,-- one a missionary in Central America, another in charge of Christian Endeavor work for the Southwestern Territory, etc.
In January, 1906, the family came to Los Angeles in response to a call from the Immanuel Presbyterian Church, of which Mr. Horton became assistant Pastor. Mrs. Horton organized a woman’s class called the Eulogia Bible Class, which is still in existence, and has communicated with the family with the following words of comfort: "We feel the loss of a dear Christian friend and teacher, who was the founder of our Bible class almost fifteen years ago, and because of whose influence we are still endeavoring to reach a higher, nobler Christian life."
The Lyceum Club
With a heart full of love and sympathy for working girls, Mrs. Horton organized a club, which met in the Fifth Street Store, at the request of Mr. D.H. Steele, who was manager of the store at that time. To this organization she gave the name of Lyceum Club. Girls from the stores and business houses met one evening each week for Christian fellowship, a supper together, and a simple, practical, Bible lesson, dismissing at an early hour. This plan for the evening’s activities has never been changed. For a number of years after the organization of the Lyceum Club, Mrs. Horton took charge of the suppers served each week to this large company of girls, doing a large share of the work with her own hands. No task was ever too small for her to perform for the dear girls whom she loved so well.
Two years ago, because of failing health, Mrs. Horton gave up the teaching of this Club, but has always been its leader, and a true "Mother" to the girls. To many of them she was the only mother they knew. She had a real mother heart, and would remain frequently until a late hour, in order to bring comfort to the hearts of the sad girls, strength to the weak and disheartened, and the knowledge of Jesus Christ as Lord to those who did not know Him.
The attendance at the Lyceum Club today ranges from one hundred and seventy-five to two hundred and fifty. Thousands of lives have been touched through this work. Many of the girls have entered the Bible Institute and have gone to the foreign field, fully equipped missionaries, while many other have engaged in church work in the home land. Scarcely a Tuesday evening passes without one or more girls accepting the Lord Jesus Christ as their personal Savior. The Fishermen’s Club for young men, organized by Mr. Horton, together with the Lyceum Club, formed the nucleus of the Bible Institute of Los Angeles.
Bible Women’s Work
Inspired by the Zenana work of India, and as a result of a deeply felt need of reaching women in their homes in our own land, Mrs. Horton was used of God to institute her Bible Women’s work. Since the organization of the work in 1909 this band of devoted women have spent one entire morning each week in counsel and prayer. The rest of their time is devoted to meeting the needs of women as God may lead, visiting in the homes, teaching Bible classes, and administering comfort and help. God has wonderfully blessed this work, which is all done to His glory. This work began with three Bible women. Today the circle has grown to seventeen Bible women and five volunteer workers. God gave to Mrs. Horton a rare gift of discernment, and the band of women whom she gathered around her we believe cannot be excelled for ability in their work and consecration to God.
Feeling very strongly the need of reaching the girls for God at as early an age as possible, Mrs. Horton about ten years ago organized the work among High School girls. For a number of years weekly Bible classes have been held in some home or church near the schools, the number of classes varying from ten to twenty each week. There are now fifteen such classes in connection with the High and Intermediate schools of Los Angeles and vicinity. These classes gather together two or three times a year for a rally or for a social time together. The organization as a whole is known as the Euodia Club, --Euodia meaning fragrance—and the motto is, "Be fragrant for Christ." A number of these girls have become Institute students, and some are already engaged in definite Christian work.
The Funeral Services
The funeral services for Mrs. Horton were held in the main auditorium of the Bible Institute in the presence of a multitude of friends. Rev. Robert A. Hadden, an old time friend of the family, preached the funeral sermon. Dr. J.R. Pratt and Rev. Ralph Atkinson offered prayers , and solos were sung by Mr. C.M. Brooks and Mrs. Corinne Smith. Mrs. Smith sang the old hymn, "There Is Never a Day So Dreary." This same hymn was sung at funeral of Jessie Horton, Mrs. Horton herself playing the organ accompaniment. The Bible Institute male quartet also sang a beautiful hymn and the Bible Institute chimes during the service played "Rock of Ages," "Trust and Obey," and the Doxology. The whole service was very helpful and inspiring. Those who acted as pall-bearers were Mr. H.H. Fulton, Mr. J.P. Welles, Mr. C.L. Wells, Mr. J.M. Irvine, Mr. A.J. Johnson and Rev. J.H. Hunter.
By the time the great company of people had passed the casket to take their farewell look at their beloved friend, the hour was very late. Just at dusk, as the sun had set and the evening star appeared, her family and friends laid her away in Forest Lawn Cemetery. A brief but most beautiful and impressive service was held, closing with the following verse sung softly by the assembled friends:
"Sleep on, thou weary one, and take thy rest;
And lay thy head upon the Savior’s breast.
We love thee much, but Jesus loves thee best.
Sleep on, sleep on, sleep on."
Tributes From Loving Friends
"We all feel that Heaven has been brought a bit nearer and its ties made stronger by her departure to be with her Lord, whom she loved and served so faithfully. Many of us remember her many years’ of untiring devotion and service for the Lord as a mother to the Fishermen fellows, and now she rests from her labors, and her works do follow her."
"We think of how much ‘Mother’ Horton has gained to be in the glory and how we rejoice also to think of her life of devotion, of service, of hardship, of unselfishness and love for Him, and the work of the Gospel. How we envy her record and how glad we are to know what rich reward is awaiting her up there…Life is poorer without her, yet so much richer than before we knew her. She truly choose the best part—to live for Him, to serve Him in deep, true devotion, and to make her life count in the salvation of souls everywhere."
"Truly ‘Aunt Anna’ was a remarkable woman, and I cannot help but feel that she was an eye-witness to the scenes of today (the funeral services). I do not suppose, however, that it was worthy of mention compared to the demonstration Sunday evening when she entered the glory on the other side. I felt as though we were at the very gates of Heaven today, and wish that we might all have gone in."
"I cannot refrain from telling you how much Mrs. Horton has meant to my life. Ever since my arrival in Los Angeles she has addressed me as ‘Sonny’ and on several occasions introduced me to strangers as ‘her son,’ much to their surprise. But I was her son and she was my mother in a way she little realized for her sweet ways were constantly reminding me of my own dear mother who went to be with the Lord some years ago. She was always saying a word of encouragement to me just at the time when I most needed it, although she may not have known it. No one will miss her more than I."
"It was indeed ‘Christ for her to live.’ Her service was her ‘ruling passion,’ and now what must this gain of higher, untrammeled, all perfect service be to her, as she beholds the King in His beauty."
Friday, January 21
New Story(?)
I'm thinking of starting a new story. No worries, it won't be anywhere near as long as the last one! But it'd be a decent length. So please be patient if the next few posts are simply my rambling thoughts attempting to coalesce into something resembling a story.
_____________
I am unable to decide whether I've been blessed or cursed. The information could be interpreted both ways. I am from Appalachian folk on my father's side, and hardy Norwegian stock on my mother's side. Now, those of you who know only one culture or the other (or neither) may wonder why this could be taken as a curse. Well, the Appalachian side of me likes to take it easy, enjoy life as it goes by, and avoid hard work when convenient. The Norwegian blood, however, is a different story. You ever wonder what happened to the Vikings? I used to. The modern Norwegians are rather stolid and unemotional, especially when compared to their forebears. I finally got it figured out. When they stopped their rampaging, all that fire and anger got turned inwards. This festered for years and finally turned into the Scandinavian guilt that all of us Norskies are so familiar with today. So when the warm Southern blood in me gets sluggish and wants to take time to smell the roses, that cold Norwegian vein pumps in a good load of guilt, and I freeze, unsure of where to go and unable to enjoy the place I'm in.
But both bloodlines balance themselves out a little, and sometimes work together. I got a double dose of wanderlust from my Scotch-Irish Appalachian roots when they mixed with that Viking blood. I'm a decently hard worker, but I can never work a job for very long. Every so often, that road just looks so tempting, and even the inner guilt isn't enough to stop this Southern Viking from wandering down it, in search of something better, or worse, of just plain different.
I've done alright for myself. I work enough to keep soul and body together. I never was much good at anything in particular, but I was decent at lots of middling things. I work whatever temporary jobs I can find, and have done some strange things in my time. I guess it's a little bit of an exaggeration to say that I'm not good at anything. I am, in fact, excellent at wandering. I can sleep in any location, find food in the midst of a desert, and work any job that doesn't tie me down. I must have run away from home a hundred times when I was a kid. My mother was confused, since I tended to run away quite cheerfully, with no grudge against anyone. My dad never could quite see why I'd want to go to all that trouble. But I guess when it turned out that running was the only thing I was good at, I decided to make a lifestyle of it. After all, there aren't too many people who seen all the things I've seen. And who knows, maybe those things needed someone like me to come along, someone who would see and appreciate them.
-------------------------
Ok, so not the most interesting beginning, I grant you. But some of the things that come along are interesting...
I'm thinking of starting a new story. No worries, it won't be anywhere near as long as the last one! But it'd be a decent length. So please be patient if the next few posts are simply my rambling thoughts attempting to coalesce into something resembling a story.
_____________
I am unable to decide whether I've been blessed or cursed. The information could be interpreted both ways. I am from Appalachian folk on my father's side, and hardy Norwegian stock on my mother's side. Now, those of you who know only one culture or the other (or neither) may wonder why this could be taken as a curse. Well, the Appalachian side of me likes to take it easy, enjoy life as it goes by, and avoid hard work when convenient. The Norwegian blood, however, is a different story. You ever wonder what happened to the Vikings? I used to. The modern Norwegians are rather stolid and unemotional, especially when compared to their forebears. I finally got it figured out. When they stopped their rampaging, all that fire and anger got turned inwards. This festered for years and finally turned into the Scandinavian guilt that all of us Norskies are so familiar with today. So when the warm Southern blood in me gets sluggish and wants to take time to smell the roses, that cold Norwegian vein pumps in a good load of guilt, and I freeze, unsure of where to go and unable to enjoy the place I'm in.
But both bloodlines balance themselves out a little, and sometimes work together. I got a double dose of wanderlust from my Scotch-Irish Appalachian roots when they mixed with that Viking blood. I'm a decently hard worker, but I can never work a job for very long. Every so often, that road just looks so tempting, and even the inner guilt isn't enough to stop this Southern Viking from wandering down it, in search of something better, or worse, of just plain different.
I've done alright for myself. I work enough to keep soul and body together. I never was much good at anything in particular, but I was decent at lots of middling things. I work whatever temporary jobs I can find, and have done some strange things in my time. I guess it's a little bit of an exaggeration to say that I'm not good at anything. I am, in fact, excellent at wandering. I can sleep in any location, find food in the midst of a desert, and work any job that doesn't tie me down. I must have run away from home a hundred times when I was a kid. My mother was confused, since I tended to run away quite cheerfully, with no grudge against anyone. My dad never could quite see why I'd want to go to all that trouble. But I guess when it turned out that running was the only thing I was good at, I decided to make a lifestyle of it. After all, there aren't too many people who seen all the things I've seen. And who knows, maybe those things needed someone like me to come along, someone who would see and appreciate them.
-------------------------
Ok, so not the most interesting beginning, I grant you. But some of the things that come along are interesting...
Tuesday, January 18
Hats are wonderful. My philosophy on hats: if you look good in hats, and you have a really cool hat, wear it. Forget about what's in style, just wear the darned hat.
(Translation: Joi, who looks good in hats, has just been given two vintage hats, complete with hat pins. Joi is very happy with the hats, and wears them a lot, even though it looks like she just stepped out of the 1950's. Joi doesn't care, and wears the hats anyway.)
(Translation: Joi, who looks good in hats, has just been given two vintage hats, complete with hat pins. Joi is very happy with the hats, and wears them a lot, even though it looks like she just stepped out of the 1950's. Joi doesn't care, and wears the hats anyway.)
Friday, January 14
Why So Lonely?
Why am I so lonely these past few days? Some of it is probably just the normal upset of having been away too long, and coming back. But still...2 of my roommates are getting married this summer, and so will be moving out, and the other two want different housing (well, one's undecided, but that's kind of how it looks right now).
I don't want to do this again. Every few years, all my friends move away at once, and I have to start all over again. I'm all for reaching out and making new friends, but I don't want this drastic turnover of community anymore. I want friends that will stick around, or at the very least, try to maintain the friendship. I understand that friendships change; but I've never had a steady friend for more than a few years, and I want that to change.
I envy people who have friends they've known since childhood. I have one or two friends from high school that I talk to once a year or so. That's it. And my college friendships are turning out that way, too, and I don't know why. It's never anything drastic, just a slow drifting towards other friends and interests.
I'm just tired of making friends in order to go through the pain of losing them. I don't want to do that anymore.
Why am I so lonely these past few days? Some of it is probably just the normal upset of having been away too long, and coming back. But still...2 of my roommates are getting married this summer, and so will be moving out, and the other two want different housing (well, one's undecided, but that's kind of how it looks right now).
I don't want to do this again. Every few years, all my friends move away at once, and I have to start all over again. I'm all for reaching out and making new friends, but I don't want this drastic turnover of community anymore. I want friends that will stick around, or at the very least, try to maintain the friendship. I understand that friendships change; but I've never had a steady friend for more than a few years, and I want that to change.
I envy people who have friends they've known since childhood. I have one or two friends from high school that I talk to once a year or so. That's it. And my college friendships are turning out that way, too, and I don't know why. It's never anything drastic, just a slow drifting towards other friends and interests.
I'm just tired of making friends in order to go through the pain of losing them. I don't want to do that anymore.
Monday, January 3
I have always wondered why people of little or no faith seem to turn to God or spirituality in times of distress. The dismissal of this phenomenon by skeptics—as merely an irrational act of desperation—has always disturbed me, because I have always assumed that to be a good explanation. But I ran across a paragraph in one of my favorite books that made me stop and think.
The book is Many Waters, by Madeleine L’Engle. Twins, named Sandy and Dennys, have landed themselves on the pre-flood Earth, a world where unicorns (like quanta) have a tendency towards life, but have to be believed in to be. Here’s the quote:
“Dennys, he remembered, had summoned a unicorn after Tiglah’s father and brother had nearly killed him, dumping him into the garbage pit. It wasn’t easy for Dennys to believe in unicorns either, but when he had to, he did.”
Allow me to switch topics for a moment: I promise to come back to this idea, and I promise that my tangent is relevant.
I grew up reading Reader’s Digest. My favorite thing to read, as a kid, were the Drama in Real Life stories. Many of them, if not most, contained stories of people doing extraordinary things in times of desperation. Some of them were feats of strength—lifting cars off of babies and the like—of which they would not have been capable under normal conditions. The others were actions that seemed irrational, but later proved to have been the only thing that could have saved the day. The only reason it had seemed irrational was that not all the information was available to the person at the time of the distress. In fact, the idea of lifting a car off one’s child also seems irrational, in that most people are not capable of such feats of strength in day-to-day life. However, the irrational urge to lift the car is known to be the only way to save the child, and so it is accomplished.
Now, imagine that faith in God or the supernatural is not, in fact, subjective or irrational. Perhaps some people—many people, even—are not normally capable of these moments of faith. However, in times of distress, they are able to achieve faith when it might seem irrational or impossible.
Faith, then, is an act, an objective thing that takes strength to accomplish. And sometimes, when we are at the end of ourselves, we are granted the ability to have faith.
The book is Many Waters, by Madeleine L’Engle. Twins, named Sandy and Dennys, have landed themselves on the pre-flood Earth, a world where unicorns (like quanta) have a tendency towards life, but have to be believed in to be. Here’s the quote:
“Dennys, he remembered, had summoned a unicorn after Tiglah’s father and brother had nearly killed him, dumping him into the garbage pit. It wasn’t easy for Dennys to believe in unicorns either, but when he had to, he did.”
Allow me to switch topics for a moment: I promise to come back to this idea, and I promise that my tangent is relevant.
I grew up reading Reader’s Digest. My favorite thing to read, as a kid, were the Drama in Real Life stories. Many of them, if not most, contained stories of people doing extraordinary things in times of desperation. Some of them were feats of strength—lifting cars off of babies and the like—of which they would not have been capable under normal conditions. The others were actions that seemed irrational, but later proved to have been the only thing that could have saved the day. The only reason it had seemed irrational was that not all the information was available to the person at the time of the distress. In fact, the idea of lifting a car off one’s child also seems irrational, in that most people are not capable of such feats of strength in day-to-day life. However, the irrational urge to lift the car is known to be the only way to save the child, and so it is accomplished.
Now, imagine that faith in God or the supernatural is not, in fact, subjective or irrational. Perhaps some people—many people, even—are not normally capable of these moments of faith. However, in times of distress, they are able to achieve faith when it might seem irrational or impossible.
Faith, then, is an act, an objective thing that takes strength to accomplish. And sometimes, when we are at the end of ourselves, we are granted the ability to have faith.
Saturday, January 1
I heard this sung around New Year's many years ago. It's a simple poem, sung to the tune of Auld Lang Syne.
I'm thinking about it now, because a guy I knew in grade school recently committed suicide. He was handsome, popular, recently married, and highly intelligent. No-one knows why he did it. I saw his picture in an old yearbook the other day, still smiling and happy.
Here's the song.
"It singeth low in every heart,
We hear it each and all,
A song of those who answer not
However we may call.
They throng the silence of the breast,
We see them as of yore,
The kind, the brave, the true, the sweet,
Who walk with us no more.
'Tis hard to take the burden up
When these have laid it down.
They brightened every joy of life,
They softened every frown.
But oh, 'tis good to think of them
When we are troubled sore;
Thanks be to God that such have been,
Though they are here no more.
More homelike seems the vast unknown
Since they have entered there;
'Tis not so hard to follow them,
However they may fare.
They cannot be where God is not,
On any sea or shore;
Whate'er betides,Thy love abides,
Our God, forevermore."
Happy New Year, and may the lessons of the old year never leave us.
I'm thinking about it now, because a guy I knew in grade school recently committed suicide. He was handsome, popular, recently married, and highly intelligent. No-one knows why he did it. I saw his picture in an old yearbook the other day, still smiling and happy.
Here's the song.
"It singeth low in every heart,
We hear it each and all,
A song of those who answer not
However we may call.
They throng the silence of the breast,
We see them as of yore,
The kind, the brave, the true, the sweet,
Who walk with us no more.
'Tis hard to take the burden up
When these have laid it down.
They brightened every joy of life,
They softened every frown.
But oh, 'tis good to think of them
When we are troubled sore;
Thanks be to God that such have been,
Though they are here no more.
More homelike seems the vast unknown
Since they have entered there;
'Tis not so hard to follow them,
However they may fare.
They cannot be where God is not,
On any sea or shore;
Whate'er betides,Thy love abides,
Our God, forevermore."
Happy New Year, and may the lessons of the old year never leave us.
Friday, December 31
Survey courtesy of Liz's resume: luminarumbra.blogspot.com
THREE NAMES YOU GO BY:
01. Joi
02. Joi-to-the-Weaver
03. Betsy (only to family)
THREE SCREEN NAMES YOU HAVE HAD:
01. Angeltread
02. B8tsyJoi
03. LoneJedi
THREE THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
01. The fact that no-one can figure out what color to call my hair and eyes
02. my refusal to settle for cookie-cutter fashion
03. my reading speed
THREE THINGS YOU HATE ABOUT YOURSELF:
01. The fact that no-one can figure out what color to call my hair and eyes
02. my impatience
03. my lack of interpersonal communication skills
THREE PARTS OF YOUR HERITAGE:
01. Norwegian
02. Norwegian
03. Texan
THREE THINGS YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND:
01. chemistry
02. why smart guys go for astounding stupid girls(and vice versa)
03. people who assume that they are absolutely right and everyone needs to become JUST LIKE THEM!
THREE THINGS THAT ANNOY YOU:
01. people who assume that they are absolutely right and everyone needs to become JUST LIKE THEM!
02. People who use the same slang expression OVER AND OVER
03. People who cannot take their headphones off for one minute to have a normal interaction with another person. (same goes for cell phones)
THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU:
01. vulnerability
02. tornadoes
03. talking to condescending people
THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS:
01. Reading
02. E-mail
03. insanity
THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING RIGHT NOW:
01. Favorite purple slouchy sweater
02. black pants
03. Torrey ring
THREE THINGS ON YOUR DESK:
01. Bills
02. cards
03. ink set
THREE THINGS YOU SAY THE MOST:
01."Drat!"
02. "Stupid art department!"
03. "I need a cat."
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE BANDS/MUSICAL ARTISTS AT THE MOMENT:(in no particular order)
01. Jason Mraz
02. Billy Joel
03. The Beach Boys
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITES SONGS AT THE MOMENT:(again, in no particular order)
01. Semi-Chamed Life
02. 1985
03. Curbside Prophet
THREE PEOPLE YOU SPEND THE MOST TIME WITH:
01. Roommate Rachel
02. Roommate Liz
03. Roommate Marcy
THREE THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOUR CLOSE FRIENDS:
01. Um...insanity. I have insane friends.
02.The ability to thouroughly enjoy brainless TV shows (Alias, Babylon 5, Stargate...)
03. They like fantasy/sci-fi and agree that it's a god genre
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE LIQUIDS:
01. Mercury (it just looks cool, all silvery and stuff)
02. Trader Joe's hot chocolate/mocha stuff. Yum!
03. Water: it's so versatile!
THREE FAVORITE CHARACTERS OF LITERATURE:
01. Amberle (Elfstones of Shannara)
02. Aragorn
03. Alyosha Karamazov
THREE FAVORITE FOODS:
01. chocolate
02. muenster cheese
03. bread
THREE THINGS YOU WOULD WANT IN A RELATIONSHIP:
01. humor
02. acceptance
03. chivalry
THREE THINGS ABOUT THE OPPOSITE SEX THAT APPEAL TO YOU:
01. When they try to be chivalrous. it's cute
02. when they stand up for something
03. when they protect someone else
THREE WORDS THAT DESCRIBE YOUR GENRE:
01. Bohemian
02. unique
03. artsy
THREE THINGS THAT STAND OUT IN YOUR SPACE:
01. My stuffed cat Fred
02. the incredible mess
03. My handmade clothes
THREE THINGS YOU CAN'T DO:
01. lick my elbow
02. whistle
03. watch the scene in Hary Potter and the Chamber of Secrets when Ron is puking up slugs.
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE HOBBIES:
01. making clothes
02.making things
03. learning about Anglicanism
THREE THINGS YOU WANT REALLY BAD RIGHT NOW:
01. a degree
02. a job
03. a cat
THREE CAREERS YOU'RE CONSIDERING:
01. writer (fiction and non-)
02. bookseller
03. fashion design
THREE WORDS THAT APPEAL TO YOU:
01. dreamscape
02. rutabaga
03. coalesce
THREE PLACES YOU WOULD GO ON VACATION:
01. Scotland
02. Norway
03. Hawaii
THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE:
01. Go overseas
02. get a book published
03. meet a favorite author
THREE NAMES YOU GO BY:
01. Joi
02. Joi-to-the-Weaver
03. Betsy (only to family)
THREE SCREEN NAMES YOU HAVE HAD:
01. Angeltread
02. B8tsyJoi
03. LoneJedi
THREE THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF:
01. The fact that no-one can figure out what color to call my hair and eyes
02. my refusal to settle for cookie-cutter fashion
03. my reading speed
THREE THINGS YOU HATE ABOUT YOURSELF:
01. The fact that no-one can figure out what color to call my hair and eyes
02. my impatience
03. my lack of interpersonal communication skills
THREE PARTS OF YOUR HERITAGE:
01. Norwegian
02. Norwegian
03. Texan
THREE THINGS YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND:
01. chemistry
02. why smart guys go for astounding stupid girls(and vice versa)
03. people who assume that they are absolutely right and everyone needs to become JUST LIKE THEM!
THREE THINGS THAT ANNOY YOU:
01. people who assume that they are absolutely right and everyone needs to become JUST LIKE THEM!
02. People who use the same slang expression OVER AND OVER
03. People who cannot take their headphones off for one minute to have a normal interaction with another person. (same goes for cell phones)
THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU:
01. vulnerability
02. tornadoes
03. talking to condescending people
THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS:
01. Reading
02. E-mail
03. insanity
THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING RIGHT NOW:
01. Favorite purple slouchy sweater
02. black pants
03. Torrey ring
THREE THINGS ON YOUR DESK:
01. Bills
02. cards
03. ink set
THREE THINGS YOU SAY THE MOST:
01."Drat!"
02. "Stupid art department!"
03. "I need a cat."
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE BANDS/MUSICAL ARTISTS AT THE MOMENT:(in no particular order)
01. Jason Mraz
02. Billy Joel
03. The Beach Boys
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITES SONGS AT THE MOMENT:(again, in no particular order)
01. Semi-Chamed Life
02. 1985
03. Curbside Prophet
THREE PEOPLE YOU SPEND THE MOST TIME WITH:
01. Roommate Rachel
02. Roommate Liz
03. Roommate Marcy
THREE THINGS YOU LIKE ABOUT YOUR CLOSE FRIENDS:
01. Um...insanity. I have insane friends.
02.The ability to thouroughly enjoy brainless TV shows (Alias, Babylon 5, Stargate...)
03. They like fantasy/sci-fi and agree that it's a god genre
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE LIQUIDS:
01. Mercury (it just looks cool, all silvery and stuff)
02. Trader Joe's hot chocolate/mocha stuff. Yum!
03. Water: it's so versatile!
THREE FAVORITE CHARACTERS OF LITERATURE:
01. Amberle (Elfstones of Shannara)
02. Aragorn
03. Alyosha Karamazov
THREE FAVORITE FOODS:
01. chocolate
02. muenster cheese
03. bread
THREE THINGS YOU WOULD WANT IN A RELATIONSHIP:
01. humor
02. acceptance
03. chivalry
THREE THINGS ABOUT THE OPPOSITE SEX THAT APPEAL TO YOU:
01. When they try to be chivalrous. it's cute
02. when they stand up for something
03. when they protect someone else
THREE WORDS THAT DESCRIBE YOUR GENRE:
01. Bohemian
02. unique
03. artsy
THREE THINGS THAT STAND OUT IN YOUR SPACE:
01. My stuffed cat Fred
02. the incredible mess
03. My handmade clothes
THREE THINGS YOU CAN'T DO:
01. lick my elbow
02. whistle
03. watch the scene in Hary Potter and the Chamber of Secrets when Ron is puking up slugs.
THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE HOBBIES:
01. making clothes
02.making things
03. learning about Anglicanism
THREE THINGS YOU WANT REALLY BAD RIGHT NOW:
01. a degree
02. a job
03. a cat
THREE CAREERS YOU'RE CONSIDERING:
01. writer (fiction and non-)
02. bookseller
03. fashion design
THREE WORDS THAT APPEAL TO YOU:
01. dreamscape
02. rutabaga
03. coalesce
THREE PLACES YOU WOULD GO ON VACATION:
01. Scotland
02. Norway
03. Hawaii
THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE:
01. Go overseas
02. get a book published
03. meet a favorite author
Saturday, December 25
A Series of Unfortunate Events
A disclaimer: I have not read these books, and so cannot comment on them. My comments are restricted to the film.
My family went to see A Series of Unfortunate Events tonight(hereafter called ASUE). I must confess I was extremely bored by the film. It was visually fascinating, but managed to remain mind-numbing. Why?
Evil triumphing over good isnot so much sad as it is boring. The story seems to show that hard work, ingenuity, and goodness don't really serve any purpose, and can be trumped by evil or sheer randomness. A little of that in a story is good, reflects some parts of reality, and imparts pathos. But a storyline consisting of nothing else is a tremendously dull story.
One of the most notable things I felt during ASUE was a feeling of profound apathy during the more "heroic" parts: you knew that it was all going to turn out badly, and so you no longer cared how brave or creative the Baudlaire orphans were. Even at the end of the movie, when the viewer is somewhat assured of a happy ending, the viewer no longer believes it, or even cares.
A story that inspires only apathy towards heroism, nobility, and courage is a bad story, and the better is is in technique--ASUE is visually delightful--the worse it is.
ASUE is supposed to be funny, and sometimes it is, but the humor seems to me to be misdirected. Again, we are already trained to laugh at most virtues; do we really need more encouragement to do so?
Do we now prefer unhappiness to happiness? Do we find joy too difficult to believe? Do we really think the universe to be so meaningless?
We should ask ourselves the same question Christ asked the crippled man: "Do you want to be healed?" Do we? Do we want joy, courage, ingenuity, nobleness, and heroism? Or do we prefer angst, cowardice, lack of creativity, meanness, and cynicism?
Do we want to be happy?
These were my thoughts about the film. I do not know if they are correct, or if I am misinterpreting the movie. But I do know this: I would rather watch good triumph over evil in a "simplistic" story, than see random chance and evil prevail, even if it makes me laugh.
"Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things - trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up thing seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that's a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We're just babies making up a game, if you're right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That's why I'm going to stand by the play-world. I'm on Aslan's side even if there isn't any Aslan to lead it. I'm going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn't any Narnia."
----Puddleglum, to the Green Lady. The Silver Chair
I'm going to go watch Return of the King.
A disclaimer: I have not read these books, and so cannot comment on them. My comments are restricted to the film.
My family went to see A Series of Unfortunate Events tonight(hereafter called ASUE). I must confess I was extremely bored by the film. It was visually fascinating, but managed to remain mind-numbing. Why?
Evil triumphing over good isnot so much sad as it is boring. The story seems to show that hard work, ingenuity, and goodness don't really serve any purpose, and can be trumped by evil or sheer randomness. A little of that in a story is good, reflects some parts of reality, and imparts pathos. But a storyline consisting of nothing else is a tremendously dull story.
One of the most notable things I felt during ASUE was a feeling of profound apathy during the more "heroic" parts: you knew that it was all going to turn out badly, and so you no longer cared how brave or creative the Baudlaire orphans were. Even at the end of the movie, when the viewer is somewhat assured of a happy ending, the viewer no longer believes it, or even cares.
A story that inspires only apathy towards heroism, nobility, and courage is a bad story, and the better is is in technique--ASUE is visually delightful--the worse it is.
ASUE is supposed to be funny, and sometimes it is, but the humor seems to me to be misdirected. Again, we are already trained to laugh at most virtues; do we really need more encouragement to do so?
Do we now prefer unhappiness to happiness? Do we find joy too difficult to believe? Do we really think the universe to be so meaningless?
We should ask ourselves the same question Christ asked the crippled man: "Do you want to be healed?" Do we? Do we want joy, courage, ingenuity, nobleness, and heroism? Or do we prefer angst, cowardice, lack of creativity, meanness, and cynicism?
Do we want to be happy?
These were my thoughts about the film. I do not know if they are correct, or if I am misinterpreting the movie. But I do know this: I would rather watch good triumph over evil in a "simplistic" story, than see random chance and evil prevail, even if it makes me laugh.
"Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things - trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up thing seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that's a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We're just babies making up a game, if you're right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That's why I'm going to stand by the play-world. I'm on Aslan's side even if there isn't any Aslan to lead it. I'm going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn't any Narnia."
----Puddleglum, to the Green Lady. The Silver Chair
I'm going to go watch Return of the King.
Friday, December 24
Tuesday, December 21
All Reading and No Socializing Makes Joi A Happy Girl
Best thing about Christmas break so far? Finding a giant (over 800 pages!) book of Ray Bradbury stories, most of which are new to me.
Happy happy Joi...
(ok, yes, being home with the family and the cat is great. But I really like this book, too.)
Best thing about Christmas break so far? Finding a giant (over 800 pages!) book of Ray Bradbury stories, most of which are new to me.
Happy happy Joi...
(ok, yes, being home with the family and the cat is great. But I really like this book, too.)
Friday, December 10
Failure
What makes something/someone a failure? I am wondering this because I feel very much like one lately. I realize, somewhere, that simply not finishing school yet and having trouble paying bills is actually quite normal for a 22-year-old in Southern California, but it still makes me feel like a terrible failure.
But can we call anyone a failure? We don't know ultimate purposes or ends, so how could anyone here make that judgement?
Hmmm. This was originally going to be a post of me trying to talk myself out of feeling like a failure, but it seems to have done so earlier than I thought. I don't know the ultimate purpose or ultimate end of my own life, so I can't pronounce myself a failure; if I can't, how could anyone else ever do so? And others wouldn't presume to do so, no more than I would presume to do so to them.
Hmmm.
What makes something/someone a failure? I am wondering this because I feel very much like one lately. I realize, somewhere, that simply not finishing school yet and having trouble paying bills is actually quite normal for a 22-year-old in Southern California, but it still makes me feel like a terrible failure.
But can we call anyone a failure? We don't know ultimate purposes or ends, so how could anyone here make that judgement?
Hmmm. This was originally going to be a post of me trying to talk myself out of feeling like a failure, but it seems to have done so earlier than I thought. I don't know the ultimate purpose or ultimate end of my own life, so I can't pronounce myself a failure; if I can't, how could anyone else ever do so? And others wouldn't presume to do so, no more than I would presume to do so to them.
Hmmm.
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