I absolutely love this post by Gavin Ortlund
and tender they are.
A child’s trusting questions;
a maid’s querying scruple.
A gentle zephyr
ruffles sparrow wings.
The book in my hand
settles to my thigh,
My bent fore-finger
piercing its pages.
My weary spirit weighted
by trenchant worldly worries.
The quack of a drake;
a fluttering finch;
The whisper of wind
through rose-red leaves.
The white petal-head
nodding in the breeze.
A hard-backed wooden chair,
and welcome interruptions.
Cross my scarred heart
adheres a fragile
Layer’d by the voice
upon Mount Horeb.
“In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep.” Genesis 1:1-2b
What is the significance of this verse? Existence without purpose yields darkness rather than light. Purpose in the hands of a competent craftsman brings light…and beauty, and wonder. One made in the image of God, takes (what is his to take) and shapes: nurtures, cares for, reforms, and bends to his will in order to improve, to provide, to shelter, to invoke glory.
Having begun we wend our way through the creation narrative reading, “And God said,” thus connecting the litany of actions with the purpose of verses 1 and 2, until we get to verse 26, where we read, “Then God said,” which tells us that we have arrived at God’s ulterior motive. All that preceded this moment was preparatory for what we are about to read. Having done all this; having formed the universe and imbued it with purpose, God arrives at his goal;we pause with baited breath… and read,
Let us make man in our image, after our likeness. And let them have dominion over (all that I previously fashioned). So, God created man in his own image….
…and man alone, in His image. All that has preceded the making of man was made by God, but not formed in His image. Man, therefore, is an imitating being; designed to follow the pattern and purpose of God and God’s actions.
And in like manner, we now arrive at my ulterior motive for this post. I contend that we may conclude God was intently purposeful in His design of all creation, including of mankind. So, what may we learn by observation of marital intimacy?
Men are designed to be hard when the occasion requires.
Men experience pleasure being themselves as a result of having been gentle (gentleness is strength under restraint; the stronger you are, the gentler you may be).
A man cannot live life in a hardened state, but prepares ahead of time to be ready when called upon.
The joy of a moment is enabled and enhanced by preparatory denial.
Men rise to the occasion and provide what is needed.
The satisfaction of a goal achieved is reached by virtue of planning.
The delight of spontaneity is enabled by previous preparation.
One’s purpose must be received and shared in order to be achieved.
As a hardened one, a man’s greatest longing and pinnacle experience is reception by and intermingling with softness.
Hardness is exhausting; softness is comforting. Provision exhausts; reception inspires and renews.
Pleasure is good, but momentary, and not to be the main focus of our daily pursuits.
As life goes on it becomes increasingly evident that mutual interdependence is required for each partner to be most thoroughly themselves.
The pinnacle of pleasure is intimate, private, and unveiling; within the protective bonds and boundaries of covenant shelter, dignity may be safely shed in the face of pure delight and total acceptance.
Mutual satisfaction and ultimate personal expression is conditionally experienced within the confines of, and after the provision of shelter and sustenance.
Fruitfulness is the natural result of careful preparation and mutual service.
Woman is the glory of man, because in her softness she celebrates, enhances, and embodies what it took a man’s hardness to provide. Hardness, however, is not comforting and man therefore longs to see, to touch, and to connect with the softness his flinty determination has provided for and enabled.
Children come with a built-in, living instruction manual called parents. Calling God “Abba, Father” means accepting things like, “Hear, O sons, a father’s instruction, and be attentive, that you may gain insight, for I give you good precepts; do not forsake my teaching.” (Proverbs 4:1-2 ESV)
I read the following words in Fountain of Federalism: Heinrich Bullinger and the Covenantal Tradition by Charles McCoy and J. Wayne Baker today, and I think it sparked a light bulb moment.
“Second, federalism understand the relationships between God and the world and among humans as based on covenants among their members, some tacit and inherited from the past, others explicit and made or renewed in the present” (p 12).
The idea of tacit vs. explicit covenants sparked what seems to me the implications of the above quote, and which I have attempted to state succinctly as follows:
When eternal, inviolate beings have a tacit understanding of relationship, formed in virtue of their purposive unity and common character, that agreement forms what in human terms we call a covenant.
The term “covenant” is required to lend the strength of Divine imitation to human relational compact(s). In other words, implicit agreement among the Godhead is, by virtue of their nature, a covenant in human terms, though human covenants must be explicit due to the depravity of human character.
This is why it is proper to speak of a “Covenant of Redemption” among the Trinity, even though such a covenant, as such, is never named in Scripture.
How do I go about learning to navigate the Psalms better? I struggle to understand them unless I have a context or topic associated with them beforehand.
- Turn to the Psalms in moments of felt need
Age and experience will embed the Psalms in your affections as you find in them, sometimes, your only comfort.
Make their review a habitual part of your life. I recommend using a through the Psalms every two months approach, with psalms for every morning and evening. Only by deep familiarity can you practice biblical meditation (haggah), and then as life take its inevitably difficult twists and turns, the Psalms become the soundtrack of your sanity (or your sanctification; both are true).
A specific example comes to mind. I recall being on a six-hour road trip some 12 years ago when I was unexpectedly struck by the most intense sexual temptation I’ve ever experienced. I made it home faithfully by popping in a Sons of Korah CD and playing Psalm 116 on repeat for an hour or two, singing along at full volume like a fool for Jesus.
As you can likely imagine, Psalm 116 now has a very special place in my affections. The difficult path of discipleship, what we otherwise call “life”, brings the Psalms home to us all, if we will but listen to them. It is evidence of God’s phenomenal grace and amazing providence that He gave us such an emotion-packed and ever applicable tool.
What follows is a review of I Have (Had) Enough: Memoirs of Abundance in Fatherhood, Friendship, and Faith, by Jeff Jacobson. I highly commend it to you.
A camera is a tool for learning how to see without a camera.Dorothea Lange
Jeff Jacobson is the greatest contemporary American author you’ve never heard of, but it’s time that changed.
Jeff is to suburban life what Photoshop filters are to pictures. Just when you thought you knew what life looks like, Jeff reminds you of the forgotten details that make all the difference. Reading his reflections on life it’s as if Norman Rockwell painted memories with words; if you can imagine a Rockwell who put brush to tragedy as well as Americana. The moments are vivid, the people are vibrant, the emotions noticed–even if belatedly–with honest reflection, and determinedly filled with wonder.
Wonder. Wonder might be the connective tissue of Jeff’s writing; it breaks out of every difficulty and every tender memory, of every moment you’ve also experienced and those you wish you might have. You are left theorizing that Jeff’s life–not short of pain–is still just a few hints more magical than yours. But, you hope, it’s probably just his filter on life; a filter that’s available to all who choose to adopt it. Normal life lived intentionally; a choice to cherish the magic of moments on living room carpet, at funerals, moments of pennies in urinals, and of sun shining on a future wife’s hair.
What was it that Wendell Berry did for farm life? The same thing Philip Gulley did for small towns, David James Duncan did for the Pacific Northwest, and Eugene Peterson did for theology. Whatever that was, Jeff does for middle class, suburban America. I never imagined wanting to live a corporate sponsored, Midwestern life in a developer designed neighborhood till I read Jacobson’s reflections. These memories read like the musings of a Leif Enger novel…but they’re real.
Jacobson’s memoir is a tool for learning how to recall your own life. It’s a master class in cherishing that will rewrite your own memories as you tour through Jeff’s with a vibrancy you forgot was possible: memories in 4k.
Want to change your life–even the part you’ve already lived? Read Jeff Jacobson.