A month ago, when I was flying back into LA from visiting Washington for my sister’s wedding, the forest fires were in full swing and thus were producing a lot of smoke. It seriously looked like a nuke had been dropped. Here’s a few pics from that day.
Flying in.
Driving back.
The smoke encroaching on the evening sun.
If you don’t already, you should find some way to connect with the Of First Importance blog everyday. Its mission is to “provide a helpful quote to help you remember what’s “of first importance”: the gospel of Jesus Christ. The phrase “of first importance” comes from 1 Corinthians 15, where Paul tells the church in Corinth he delivered what was of first first importance, namely the gospel.
All that to say I found the quotation yesterday very insightful.
“By becoming a Christian, I belong to God and I belong to my brothers and sisters. It is not that I belong to God and then make a decision to join a local church. My being in Christ means being in Christ with those others who are in Christ. This is my identity. This is our identity. . . . If the church is the body of Christ, then we should not live as disembodied Christians.”
- Tim Chester and Steve Timmis, Total Church (Wheaton, Ill, Crossway Books, 2008), 41.
In eighth grade, I started writing poetry with my friend, David Zimmer. I wrote through my freshmen year of college, but haven’t since. I’ve dug up some of the old stuff and thought it would be good to share. It has been good to go back and read of what was on my heart and mind. I didn’t journal at the time, so my poems have helped discern what I was thinking about. Read and enjoy.
The gates open, the people flock,
Mindlessly traversing the streets.
The children appear happy, always wanting more,
The parents spending money on every whim.
Employees man their stations, put on their masks
And start the machines that control masses.
Hour by hour hearts and minds are conformed
To the ways of the money-hungry tyrant.
Tired feet, weary wallets, strife is in the air,
Children begging, parents reluctantly submitting;
And arguments arise pulling families apart.
Stained shirt, dirty diaper, a hat is lost.
The children restlessly squirm and complain;
Operators biting in reply, only to send them around once more;
Getting dark, all smile for finale;
They turn and go, for the day has finally ended.
The gates close, the people flee
With only dollar in hand,
For they have experienced
The unspoken terror of Disneyland
The choice to give life or take it away;
You all but think that the baby will pay.
This precious child is now going to die,
Because you believed this wretched evil lie.
You’ll never see the portraits in crayon and paint;
You’ll never hear the “I love you”s soft and faint;
You’ll never tuck in the child warm and snug,
Or feel the little arms give great big hugs.
The sounds of laughter shall never be heard at all,
As you chase the child down the hall.
Your house and heart are quiet, empty, and still
For one small boy or girl will never fill.
The baby has a request, so simple and so bleak-
To forgive his mommy and kiss her on the cheek.