Have Mercy!

Alright, so that title has a dual meaning.

First off, I apologize with great fullsomeness of heart (brownie points for recognizing that quote) for the great delay between posts. Life has become hectic and I have not made this as great a priority as I should. I shall resume regular posts on the third day of the month of May anno domine two-thousand-and-thirteen.
The second meaning comes from a great devotional I heard from a friend about how the true Christian interacts with God. Our prayers today so often are "Lord, I want ___, I want ___, oh, yeah, help me to influence people for You. Amen."

What? How do we act this way? What possessed us to think that God is this genie who has nothing better to do than give us our petty desires and "needs" like a good grade on a test, a good day, or that job that I really wanted. Psalms 51:1-3 says


1) Have mercy upon me, O God,
According to Your lovingkindness;
According to the multitude of Your tender mercies,
Blot out my transgressions.
2) Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity,
And cleanse me from my sin.
3) For I acknowledge my transgressions,
And my sin is always before me

Many of our prayers and interactions with God should be a heart-felt asking for forgiveness since we have messed up, hence not serving Him as well as we could have. Instead of asking Him for our petty comforts, maybe we should ask Him to better let us serve Him. That should be our focus, not “I want… I want… I want…”



Oh, and a side note having nothing to do with mercy… I start working as an intern at Hewlett-Packard today. Wahoo!

The Prison - Part 3

It took my eyes a second to adjust to the light, but soon they did. There was a line of people in front of me, all grasping something in their bound hands. I saw some carrying bags of gold, others grasped documents that indicated they had studied at universities, while a few held letters of appreciation for acts of kindness.

I held nothing.

Up at the front of the line, there was a gatekeeper, and as each person came up to his desk, he would run his finger up and down a ledger, sometimes turning pages back and forth, then look up and say something to the prisoner. Then he would gesture toward a large, gaping hole in the wall from which came an eerie red glow.

As I neared the desk, I began to overhear the conversations that the gatekeeper had with the prisoners. One lady holding a large sack of money approached him.

“Name?” He asked.

“Olivia Affluent.” She replied.

He ran his finger up and down the ledger, turned two pages, and finally appeared to settle on her name.

“Ah yes.” He said. “Brought here by the watchman Drowning, yes?”

“Yes, but there was a mistake.” She began, her voice rising in tone and urgency with every word. “I had the money, I should have been allowed to sail where I did.”

“Money does not allow you to avoid arrest.” The gatekeeper replied.

“I will pay you to let me out of here.” She offered.

“Even if I did accept your money, it wouldn’t allow you to leave. Once committed to prison, only the King can allow you exodus.”

“But I’ve paid my taxes and much more!” She was nearly screaming now. “Surely the King will look kindly upon that and let me go free!”

“Is your money all you brought to the prison?” He asked, ever calm.

“Yes! It’s all I have!” She replied, but in a less screaming, but more pleading voice.

“Well,” The gatekeeper replied. “I have no word here from the King to release you.” He said gesturing to the ledger. “I’m afraid you must still enter.”

“No!” She screamed, and though she tried to run from the gaping doorway, the ground heaved and rolled and threw her through the open hole.

“You cannot escape the prison.” The gatekeeper commented to nobody in particular. “Once here, the prison itself will keep you here. Next!”

And with that, I walked up to the desk, holding my breath in anticipation.

How Does a Bored Tutor Spend the Time?

Why, proving the quadratic formula, of course!

Fridays are slow, especially the beginning of the semester... so I had to do something useful! The Prison Story will be finished, I've just had a lot of intervening ideas since then...

Neat Song

Have you ever heard a song that sounds like a prayer? I mean, there are the songs with lyrics that sound like a prayer, but the music doesn't reflect it.

I don't normally, but this morning I flipped the radio to the local "Christian Music" station, wondering if perhaps there was something good on (note the quotations earlier in the sentence), and I heard this song.

My first reaction when the words started was to reach for my cap, which I always remove whenever praying. It was completely reactionary - when I started to sing along, it felt just like a prayer. I have never had a song do that to me before. Hope that this song is refreshing to you as much as it was to me.

Note - I cannot necessarily reccomend any other songs that this group sings, but this one is amazing

The Prison - Part 2

We didn't walk very far before we came to a long, low structure.  It was dreary, very long, and no more than six feet high, though at one end, there was a tower. There were no windows, but one gate stood at the end facing me.

“I had no idea the prison was so close.” I remarked to the watchman as we walked.

“The prison is closer than any man knows.” He replied. “And even though you have passed this way before, you could not see, much less enter the prison until I came for you.”

“Are you the only watchman?” I asked.

“No.” He replied, “My name is Unexpected. I come whenever the warden sends, and am the swiftest and most sporadic in the arrests I make. There,” He said pointing to another watchman leaving the prison, “Is Sickness.  He often goes and arrests those whose bodies have succumbed to some ailment. Drowning often arrests those who swim without permission. There are also the watchmen War, Starvation, and Accident, to name a few.”

“What funny names.” I commented.

“We have dreary lives, and people fear us. Though in reality, they ought to fear the prison to which we take them. We are merely the routes whereby the Warden calls the people to the prison.”

“Does everybody go to the prison? Has everybody committed crimes so atrocious to be confined for life to the prison?”

“To answer your questions in order,” He answered with no trace of emotion in his voice. “I know only two who have never gone to the prison, though that was long ago. Everybody is committed to this prison, though the time spent here is actually very short.”

“What do you mean?” I asked. We were now at the front gate

“You will see as soon as you are inside. Now, I must bind your hands. If you have anything you must have in your hands, retrieve it now.”

I knew what he meant. I reached into my jerkin pocket and took out a small parchment of paper. On the bottom was signed my name, as well as the King’s. On it, I had declared that I truly believed that the Rock could save me. I handed it to the watchman, who looked at it, nodding.

“Is this all you need?” He asked.

“Yes.” I replied.

He then bound my hands, rolled up the document and sealed it, and opened the door.

“Enter.” He said. “I will deliver this document to the King.”