Salty Grave

Why do some days just suck? Who knows. Somehow, the perversity of life seems to heap one misfortune after another, until my head protrudes from a pile of garbage and un-wanted mess.

It's that day;
That day when you don't hear the alarm until maximum volume about five minutes late,
That day when nothing important seems to happen,
That day when none of your baseballs seem to travel where you intended,
That day when your baseball coach hits you in the head with a baseball.

It's that day, when I retreat into my shell and hunker down until Life's blows subside. When I await the moment that he puts away his boxing gloves, when I can regroup in my safe place.

It's that day when you just want to go to sleep earlier so the day will end, and tomorrow will start anew.

God, give me the faith to praise you as I drown. As I flounder in Life's trash can, I want the kind of faith that won't scream in anger, or throw baseball equipment, or even find other ways of releasing agony and frustration. A faith that will instead take my frustrations and my emotions, and nail them to the cross with Jesus--a place where He takes them on himself. Though I may or may not still feel the feelings, my spirit will be enabled by His spirit so that I can praise Him. That day was not today, but I pray for an ever-increasing outpouring of His spirit.


"There is something to say
About being desperate, down and low
Giving a chance to see what it all can mean
There is something to say
About being desperate, down and low

Upon my arrival, I either learn to swim or drown
As I struggle for air I see only water
And I reach for anything as I cry for help
I feel my body growing week slipping away,
It occurs to me that my cries are worthless
Acknowledging death, I no longer mourn my own loss
And begin to sing praises to the one that has me here
As I sink to my salty grave I drown
No hand to reach for, no ear to listen

Let it be a sweet sound, sweet sound… In your ear

Up to the light I will sing praises; surely we will all die
Up to the light I will sing praises because surely we will all die"

"Salty Grave"

nate.

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That Nature is a Heraclitean Fire and of the Comfort of the Resurrection

Driving home from church tonight, I saw a beautiful sight. Just above the sharp outline of leaf-less tree branches, a large, red moon stared back at me, almost perfectly mirroring the pensive mood with which I left our service tonight. Holy week, as this week before Easter is often called, is quite an emotional week. With two baseball games, the looming shadow of exams, and the soon end of school, the "Easter feeling" has had an unusually small role in my week. In the busyness of my recent life, autopilot kicked in, and Easter has taken a backseat. Tonight, as I sat in our Maundy Thursday service, I began to think about the events leading up to what we call Easter.

Think of the disciples, what would they be doing right now? (Thursday night at about 10:30). Tonight is the night of the Last Supper, and Jesus knew he was to be crucified--brutally slaughtered in one of the most gruesome deaths possible. How could anyone be joyful, or even consider stooping to wash the feet of his followers.

He did.

Being fully God and fully man, Jesus could've stopped it all. Angels, cherubs, the weather, and anything else imaginable was at his command, and yet he suffered. Who, in anticipation of this horrid death, would pray, "Not my will, but yours be done"?

He did.

Whose purpose was so entangled with God's that he was willing to be simultaneously guilty of all sins of the world and separated from God, his father, his ultimate joy and comfort?

I know mine is not. But that is the whole point of Easter: We can't. We cannot do what Jesus did. That is the message of Good Friday. He took our punishment for everything we ever will do and in doing that, he paid the price we are unable to pay. He defeated death so that we can spend eternity glorifying and enjoying God. We cannot be Jesus. He lived a perfect life; I am imperfect everyday. It is, however, his death that frees us from the chains that bind. Jesus paid it all, all to Him I owe. Sin had left a crimson stain, He washed it white as snow. Through his horrible death, we, as Christians, now own a power over sin, over death. We are no longer slaves to sin! We are now able to chose to not sin! We are free! We are not "in Adam", our identity is not in man, but instead, we are "in Christ"! We have a new spirit, a spirit that has the power to satisfy our deepest longings, the power to break free of sin, and, most importantly, the power to become more like Christ. We now become "children of God", heirs to his kingdom. Now we have victory over the systems of this world. We are now able to claim victory, through Jesus, against many things.

Satan tempts me frequently and I fail. Jesus is Risen!!
I am addicted to weed and cigarettes. Jesus is Risen!!
I am full of pride. Jesus is Risen!!
My parents are divorced. Jesus is Risen!!
My life is full of pain and suffering Jesus is Risen!!

Claim the power that we are given through His death and resurrection! Christ went down and whooped the devil for three days, then He came back to life, declaring victory over Death itself. We have this power, through His spirit in us. By taking hold of his power, we not only break sin and temptation, but we have the power to love without bounds and to have the same agape as God! We have an awesome God, take hold of his power and own it!

nate.


Love's as warm as tears,
Love is tears:
Pressure within the brain,
Tension at the throat,
Deluge, weeks of rain,
Haystacks afloat,
Featureless seas between
Hedges, where once was green

Love's as fierce as fire, 

Love is fire:
All sorts--Infernal heat
Clinkered with greed and pride, 

Lyric desire, sharp-sweet,
Laughing, even when denied, 

And that empyreal flame 

Whence all loves came. 


Love's as fresh as spring,
Love is spring:
Bird-song in the air,
Cool smells in a wood,
Whispering "Dare! Dare!"
To sap, to blood,
Telling "Ease, safety, rest,
Are good; not best."

Love's as hard as nails,
Love is nails: 

Blunt, thick, hammered through 

The medial nerves of One 

Who, having made us, knew 

The thing He had done,
Seeing (what all that is)
Our cross, and His. 


C.S. Lewis - LOVE'S AS WARM AS TEARS

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Who are you?

My alarm clock rips me from a peaceful sleep as another day begins. After a shower and some breakfast, my sister and I then make the rush to the car and the sometimes frantic effort to be on time. The music takes my mind off any other thoughts, and dropping off my sister I mindlessly slip into these very welcoming red seats for another morning assembly. After a day of continuous class, from one tile floor to another, guided by the ever-present florescent lights to another 45 minutes of quality education. As the minute hand swings to mark the end of school, I hop into my car and turn up the music for the 2 minute ride up to baseball. Baseball ends and I move into a second round of school through my homework, filling my brain with noises, numbers, and over forms of sensory noise. Why is it that we cram our schedules with meeting after meeting? Practice after practice? Sound after sound?

If I may, I ask you to take a minute to reflect the past month. What was your favorite activity? At which point in time did you most enjoy your life over the past few weeks? What is the one thing that most excited and enlivened your personality and your intellect? Was it your alarm clock? Was it the countless lunch meetings you are involved in? Was it the constant stream of noise, both audible and visual, filling your perception? To answer for myself, the noise and hurry of my life is by no means my favorite activity, but somehow.. it manages to organize a usurpation of my diversions and educational joys. In the rush of my school life, time and time again I lose sight of who I am.

Know Who You Are!

It is essential, for our development as individuals of dreams and ambitions, to recognize what we are meant to do! Though I say this easily, I cannot say what I will be doing in 5 years, or even what my college major will be. It is very important, however, not necessarily to have specific ideas of what we will be doing, but instead to know ourselves.

Know Who You Are!

High school is often characterized as a time of maturation (hopefully) and of self-discovery. The activities which one pursues define “Committing yourself is a way of finding out who you are. A man finds his identity by identifying.” In that, we find out the things that we love to do, the activities that really ignite our passion and intellect. Sophomore year, when a younger Nathan Tilley walked into Mr. Zuraws room, he had no idea how much Moot Court would come to mean in his life. Additionally, when I decided sophomore year to move ahead to junior AP English with Mr. Moore, I wouldn’t have dreamed of how that decision has shaped my love for writing and for literature. Each of these activities played a key role in determining who I am, what I enjoy doing, and what I want to do in the future. Abraham Maslow said, “A musician must make music, an artist must paint, a poet must write, if he is to be ultimately at peace with himself. What a man can be, he must be.”

Know Who You Are!

Realizing who you are is essential to not only your happiness, but your success. Your identity and your success go hand in hand. Many people sacrifice their identities by not doing what they really want to do. And that's why they're not successful. Your identity and your success go hand in hand. Many people sacrifice their identities by not doing what they really want to do. And that's why they're not successful. Your identity and your success go hand in hand. Many people sacrifice their identities by not doing what they really want to do. And that's why they're not successful. Your identity and your success go hand in hand. Many people sacrifice their identities by not doing what they really want to do. And that's why they're not successful. Your identity and your success go hand in hand. Many people sacrifice their identities by not doing what they really want to do. And that's why they're not successful.

It is not the things that we do that define our purpose and our existence, but instead, it is the way we treat others and the way that we chose to live our lives.

Know Who You Are!

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God is good!

I haven't written anything in forever! Things have been crazy, but really awesome at the same time. I will write something soon, but in the meantime all I have to say is this:

God is good! All the time! His love endures forever!!!

nate.

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Isolation

YES: in the sea of life enisled,
With echoing straits between us thrown.
Dotting the shoreless watery wild,
We mortal millions live alone.
The islands feel the enclasping flow,
And then their endless bounds they know.

But when the moon their hollows lights,
And they are swept by balms of spring,
And in their glens, on starry nights,
The nightingales divinely sing;
And lovely notes, from shore to shore,
Across the sounds and channels pour;

O then a longing like despair
Is to their farthest caverns sent!
For surely once, they feel, we were
Parts of a single continent.
Now round us spreads the watery plain—
O might our marges meet again!

Who order'd that their longing's fire
Should be, as soon as kindled, cool'd?
Who renders vain their deep desire?—
A God, a God their severance ruled;
And bade betwixt their shores to be
The unplumb'd, salt, estranging sea.

To Marguerite; by Matthew Arnold

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On The Human Intellect

With respect to intellectual achievement, many in history had great knowledge. Their cerebral passages were filled with infallible logic and countless files of information. The understanding, to which they clung, however, was of their own intellect, based on a self-serving sense of scholastic superiority. Knowledge and human understanding is nothing without a deep-rooted faith in the source of all knowledge. In a Darwinian worldview, how can any man trust his brain, a deceptive product of what he believes to be years of development. The belief that all knowledge comes from within ourselves would be frightening, as evolution might not be complete, so the intellectual tenants to whom we cling may be inaccurate. Within the chaos of human ignorance, God gives us an opportunity to believe in the one who is infallible, one who is omniscient and omnipotent. Faith is having complete trust in the sovereignty of God and this is the foundation to all understanding. Through God’s redemptive work of sanctification, God provides us with the understanding that brings our faith to completion. God’s Word, the Bible, is the key to understanding, but He speaks through history, the arts, the works of men, and many other mediums. Faith is the starting foundation, upon which God fills us with his Spirit and opens our eyes to his wonderful presence in all parts of our human existence.

nate.

Faith Seeking Understanding

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iceberg.

I'm not feeling too profound tonight. Actually, I'm feeling quite tired. The past two weeks have been pretty killer with lots of stuff to work on and too much to do on the weekends. Between our homecoming weekend and going snowboarding, I have missed seeing those whom I enjoy the most up until last weekend, and I am wearing out. School life is picking up. Calculus is hard again, physics is frustrating to the point of anger, and my bedtime has once again shifted back to an average of 12 or 12:30 (no good). Socially, I have had some interesting weekends spending, surprisingly, a lot of time with GDS friends at homecoming festivities. The game was fun and the dance was actually very fun and relaxed, but still, little sleep. The next weekend, after much deliberating over a time to go, I went snowboarding with my cousin and his two sons, both about 10 yrs old. I love snowboarding, and it was a great time riding, but the boys wore me out and I was very tired of talking by the end of the weekend. My weeks have been filled with mindless noise, and I am feeling the weight of it all. As baseball now is starting up, my free time is slowly closing and the light under the doorway is dimming. At Core, the video on silence really hit me hard in the midst of my busyness, even in the context of church events and worship practices. I sat, in silent reflection, and saw all that I pack my life with. Looking over the next two weeks, things are not looking good and I feel like I've become a giant iceberg, slowly floating along, completely unaware of all that his beneath. In my tiredness, I enter survival mode, only moving to get through the next 40 minutes of spanish, or trying to survive the last 20 minutes of batting practice. I'm not sure quite why I wanted to write this out, but I'm not going to provide any happy Bible verse to end this with, that would be untrue of my sentiments. I will just leave you where I am at, waiting for the ice to break.

What is that sound high in the air

Murmur of maternal lamentation

Who are those hooded hordes swarming

Over endless plains, stumbling in cracked earth

Ringed by the flat horizon only

What is the city over the mountains

Cracks and reforms and bursts in violet air

Falling towers

Jerusalem Athens Alexandria

Vienna London

Unreal

A woman drew her long black hair out tight

And fiddled whisper music on those strings

And bats with baby faces in the violet light

Whistled, and beat their wings

And crawled head downward down a blackened wall

And upside down in air were towers

Tolling reminiscent bells, that kept the hours

And voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wells.

In this decayed hole among the mountains,

In the faint moonlight, the grass is singing

Over the tumbled graves, about the chapel

There is the empty chapel, only the wind's home.

It has no windows, and the door swings,

Dry bones can harm no one.

Only a cock stood on the rooftree

Co co rico co co rico

In a flash of lightning. Then a damp gust

Bringing rain

(From T.S. Eliot's "The Wasteland")

nate.

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