May 4th, 2004



We do not identify ourselves with God’s interests and concerns for others, and we get irritated with Him. Yet we are always ready with our own ideas, and our intercession becomes only the glorification of our own natural sympathies. We have to realize that the identification of Jesus with sin means a radical change of all of our sympathies and interests. Vicarious intercession means that we deliberately substitute God’s interests in others for our natural sympathy with them.

Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest (4 May,"Vicarious Intercession")

Push me to the wall and, depending on the wall and the push, the last thing my flesh wants to do is pray. I'll go for thinking and overthinking, trying to fix things, running away as if my life depended on it, or running after any addiction or sin that makes the empty promise of deliverance for a time. Prayer isn't in that list. Amazing how pitifully I pray, in fits and starts, running before the Throne of Grace to shout or whisper a couple of feverish, hurried sentences, then running away to go do what I want and to avoid the possibilities: hearing Him if He speaks or the silence if He does not.

Still more amazing that His Spirit intercedes for me, in my weakness, turning my groans into something holy and pleasing to God. He hears me because He wants to, because He loves me. That's amazing grace.

He's changing what I want, too, for myself and for others. What it means to love is sometimes so very different than the ways my affections want to go. To want what God desires for others always involves a cross, sooner or later. He took His up willingly, and so must I. He died there, and so must I. He trusted His Father, my Abba, to raise Him from the dead, and so must I.
  • Current Mood
    contemplative contemplative

Worst. Bus ride. Ever.

I want to turn in my geek card. I know it's not that easy, but I just spent about half an hour trapped on a bus sitting in front of a three-man geek cluster. And they were talking. And talking. And talking. It was like some kind of parody, as if I were among ersatz younger versions of The Simpsons' Comic Book Guy.

They talked about video games, and upcoming video games, and catchphrases for upcoming video games.

They talked about hitman weaponry and methodology.

They talked about their computers, and their CPUs, and their case modifications, and their hard drives, and their graphics cards.

They talked about the upcoming D & D night on Friday, and how the one guy wouldn't have to be an ogre if he came, and how they had enough fighters, but maybe he could be a rogue.

In a startling show of self-awareness, they debated whether lazy people become geeks or whether geeks become lazy (the consensus of The Triumvirate seemed to be that there were more lazy people than geeks).

Each laughed nervously after his own attempts at witty one-upmanship. Every time.

They argued about whether "fileserver" was one word or two.

Seriously. I can't make this stuff up. And I'm only scratching the surface, sparing others and myself an agonizing rehash of the eye-spooningly boring details.

I am a self-avowed geek. Some of these topics have been, on some level, part of my own geekery from time to time. But wow. That was just nuts. Maybe it was the closed quarters and lack of an escape route, but by the end of the ride, all I wanted to do was beat them up after school.
  • Current Mood
    annoyed annoyed