Saturday, April 21, 2012

Train of Thought

I hope you enjoy these poems I wrote while I was on a train!

A flock of birds pass
Below, not above,
Their wings silver flashes
Equal, en mass.

A farmhouse, robed white,
Flies by, then a field.
Rows upon rows of
A viridian sight.

A church steeple peeps
Above the wild trees,
And the cattle are grazing in
Fenced-about keeps.

Yellow weeds jumble
In sweet disarray;
I wonder if the birds feel
Their home is quite humble!

Old shacks and cars and rusted roofs,
A cemetery so aloof.
We pass them by and hear the sound
Of whistle warning those on ground.
Rows of green, or tumbled bunches
Remind us soon it's time for lunches.
Death and life in close proximity--
They echo of eternity.

Owl-like I am,
To soak up all the sights,
A swivel-head
You could call me by rights....
Tunnels of green bowers,
A field full of flowers,
A junkyard with wire hills,
A river the sky fills.
Rippling, soft grass I see,
Cows lumbering by me.
People walk by inside,
Fixing their swaying stride.
A longhorn leads a pack
'Cross a glassy blue track.
A red truck keeps abreast
With the train, 'til we crest.
A butterfly says hello
As we enter town real slow.

The charm of a train is lost
When we lose an hour
Stopped on the tracks.
It picks up again
The minute we set off.

Thursday, April 19, 2012

To Read Fiction or Not - Quote from Spurgeon

 Agree or disagree?
How many young people there are whose hearts are just a road along which thoughts of levity and desires for amusement are continually going! How many precious hours are wasted over the novels of the day! I think that one of the worst enemies of the Gospel of Christ, at the present time, is to be found in the fiction of the day. People get these worthless books and sit, and sit—forgetful of the duties of this world and of all that relates to the world to come—just losing themselves in the story of the hero or heroine. I have seen them shedding tears over things that never happened, as if there were not enough real sorrows in the world for us to grieve over! So these feet of fictitious personages, these feet of foolish frivolities, these feet of mere nonsense, or worse, keep traversing the hearts of men and making them hard so that the Gospel cannot enter.
from THE SEED BY THE WAYSIDE, NO. 2843, a sermon, DELIVERED BY C. H. SPURGEON, AT THE METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE, NEWINGTON, ON THURSDAY EVENING, SEPTEMBER 13, 1888. “As he sowed, some fell by the wayside; and it was trodden down, and the fowls of the air devoured it.” Luke 8:5.
As much as I usually like Spurgeon's quotes, I can't fully agree with this.  I do agree that fiction can be a waste of time, and I used to become so engrossed in (mostly just entertaining) novels that I could hardly tear myself away to do my duties or read the Bible, so I understand that part.  My dad warned us against escaping reality this way, and I never understood him at the time.  However, some novels provide Biblical wisdom, similar to a parable.  Some provide lessons in manhood and womanhood and noble virtues.  Some provide an interesting look at history.  Some merely give us something to laugh about, which I believe can be good, uplifting medicine, as the Bible speaks about.  Yet let us remember that novels can be harmful, just as movies can, and we are to be careful what we watch or read.  It is a shame if we shirk our duties and avoid seeing and helping with the needs right around us.  Also, there are biographies, theological books, and other nonfiction that can be more edifying and helpful to read.  And let us remember that the Bible is the best book--not to be neglected, but to be studied and gone over until we are so familiar with it that we live by it and advise by it and die by it.

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Lovely Quote

And now, Lord, what do I wait for?
My hope is in You.

Sweet it is that our hope should rest in him who is never shaken; should abide in him who never changeth; should bind us to him who can hold us fast to himself, who alone is the full contentment of the soul; should, as it were, enter into him; since "in him is our being," who is love. - E. B. Pusey, D.D., 1853. (The Treasury of David)