What brings him to mind is some of the stuff he’s written lately. He is an infinitesimally better writer than I am. Gore. My stuff is all mixed up and unclear and wordy; my style kind of drags it’s feet and gets tripped up over itself. My style is definitely not humorous. Sam’s, on the other hand, flows amazingly well. I think his informal writing is many times better than most adults I know. And he is amazingly funny. But while one second he makes me laugh really hard at his cracks, and then another he’s seriously thought provoking. Informative, communicative, humorous… I mean, isn’t that what writing is supposed to be?

He’s also the sort of fellow that’s easy to be around. Sure, he can come off as a little arrogant sometimes, but he’s not arrogant. If you think he is, you’re wrong. I think he’s the one person who I can say that I never have any tension with. At some point or another I have at least a little tension with even my best friends and parents. But Sam’s just an easy-going bloke that I never get tired of being around. Like ever.

He’s a great example to me in a lot of ways. He’s funny, but he’s serious, he makes you feel at ease when you’re around him, little kids naturally adore him, and everyone else respects him. I’m definitely not very good at balancing funny and serious, I think I can come of as intimidating a lot of times, and little kids don’t naturally adore me… I have to work to get their affections.

So, I just thought I’d give Sam a props. Here’s to you Sam. Love you lots, and I’m darn proud to have you for a little brother.

(if you haven’t read any of his stuff, go read his blog. It’s a better blog than mine I think. Vain Endeavors)

-Wisdom is self evident, obvious, granted to anyone who seeks with a genuine heart.
-Wisdom is to love. It is expedient to love and to love is to imitate God, who is love.
-Wisdom is to exercise the mind, reason, intellect.
-Wisdom is to feel and be swayed by emotions and conscience.
-Wisdom is to seek wisdom.
-Wisdom is to fear God and submit yourself to his law, his words, and his very heart.
-Wisdom is to understand what is God’s law, his words, his very heart.
- Wisdom is to realize I am not wise.
-Wisdom is to consider other people’s words and wisdom, knowledge and experience.
-Wisdom is to seek a multitude of opinions.
-Wisdom is in patience.
-Wisdom is in quiet.

What matters anymore?

   You oughtn’t to ask me. 

Is my judgement so poor,

   And my conscience so deplete

   That I’m knocked down to my knees

To beg for something more?

Do I care enough to feel

   Anything? Is my heart so cold?

So cold it feels unreal?

   So chilled it ages old

   For too long left to hold

Alone the things I feel?

Have I so wandered from my call?

Have I so smothered my resolve 

That imminent is the downfall

Of my soul? Completely dissolved

Is the force of my will,

And I falter at walls that until

Now have held me still;

Safely locked behind society,

Safely barred by empty piety

Acted out for mere propriety:

For the sake of nothing more.

And yet that flame, that fire, 

That passion, my deepest desire,

Have I so lightly abandoned heavenly attire

To wear worldly lust and reward?

Have I so slowly let go my sword,

So slowly given up this war

That I never realized I did, indeed?

No, Never. My God delievered me

And ever since have I been free.

Perhaps at times my head has drooped,

My sword my back has slowly stooped,

But now, look on, I shall regroup.

By God’s good grace am I thus far

And God’s good grace, my compass star,

Shall lead me always to my part

And inheritance in him. 

It seems like my blog posts get farther and few between as time goes on. And it seems like I keep saying that at beginning. Ah well, what can I say. I’m a lazy man.

There is so much to speak of, I don’t really know what to choose. I suppose I’ll just kind of write and see what comes out (which is what I always do, so I don’t know why I’m talking about doing it at the beginning here…).

This evening I took a walk out back in the snow covered windblown farm fields as the sun was setting. I used to take walks out back quite often, but I’m rather loathe to say I don’t know if I’ve done it even once this winter before today. I like the cold… with the windchill it was probably single digits or low teens. Somehow walking briskly through snow with my jeans and black jacket in the bitter cold makes me feel alive. Most people don’t like the cold like that I find, but somehow I enjoy it. Maybe it’s because it’s something that I can still feel very distinctly when other sense are perhaps somewhat jaded. I don’t know. The cold and the beautiful trees and sky combined really serve to connect me to God, to quiet my mind and just stop to think for a little.

I’ve been getting caught up in life and it’s complexities… plans, decisions, relationships, change, emotions… there are so many things that fill my mind and weigh me down every day. I guess I’ve always been one who’s quite against worry, and I’ve been quick so say that one shouldn’t plan, that one should control his emotions and accept changes and deal with relationships. Perhaps I was rash to think I’m above these things, but I have to keep holding that belief. I was reminded today in a very quiet way to stop and listen to God.

As I stood in a clearing outside looking through the trees at the colored sky and fading sun, I could see a stain glass window far more beautiful and impressive than anything man could ever make.

But I want to talk about Satan in this post, and Milton’s depction of him. As I read Paradise Lost, I find myself somehow attracted to the character of Satan. In the first book, Milton describes the fallen host of Hell, lying on the flaming ground after being cast down from heaven, groaning and depressed and just kind of writhing on the ground across the giant plain. Then Satan stands up and gives a speech to his armies, rousing their spirits once more to rebellion and valor. Here he speaks the famous line "It is better to rule in Hell than to serve in Heaven." The mind, he says, can make of hell a heaven, or of heaven a hell. He is the picture of glorious unsubmission, his head unbowed, shaking his fist at the powers who are trying to bow him, he is unwilling to give up his pride. This poem captures his spirit well I think.

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

It has been bothering me somewhat that I’ve been so entranced by this Character of Satan in the story and in this poem. Doesn’t that poem just stir something inside of you? Well, it does in me anyways. Perhaps it’s because I’m young and fiery. But it just makes me feel so strong. I am the master of my fate, *I* am the captain of my soul. Who is there that can humble me? Even if God throws me to hell on judgement day, it was my choice, and I will never bend my knee. This is the attitude of Satan and his angels.

Perhaps you’re reading this and becoming somewhat disturbed… I am somewhat disturbed writing it, at least. It is quite obvious that there is something undeniably evil about the spirit I’m describing. Seeing as how I am an evil man, it doesn’t surprise me too much that I have an affinity for evil things and attitudes, and yet it still makes me uncomfortable to think that I admire this spirit of unabashed pride and self-sufficiency.

It has always been a part of my nature to be very non-conformist, to try my best to stand away and aloof from the crowd, to be the odd one out. Most people who read this blog probably know all too well my sometimes overly-zealous non-conformism. I have always endeavored not to submit to the world or to the culture’s or the modern church’s expectations, but only to God and his kingdom. This can at times be a rather negative trait, and I’m beginning to wonder if the root of this desire is my overbearing pride and desire to be self-sufficient. Perhaps that’s why Satan and the poem appeal to me so much.

It seems to me that the very root of all sin is pride. The fall of Satan and his angels can be attributed to a deep-rooted sense of pride and unsubmission. This was the first of all sins. Even the first sins of Adam and Eve were linked inseperably to pride. Instead of trusting God’s command and judgement, they trusted in something else. In Eve’s case she trusted in the serpent’s reasoning, in Adam’s case he relied upon his own reasoning. The Chiefest of sins, then, the worst and foremost, the root and cause of everything evil is pride. That’s something to think about.

]]> http://www.hostilelegacy.com/the-chiefest-of-sins/feed/ 1