From the monthly archives:

September 2005

Purify my heart let me be as gold
And precious silver
Purify my heart let me be as gold
Pure gold
Refiner’s fire
My heart’s one desire
Is to be holy
Set apart for You Lord
I choose to be holy
Set apart for You my Master
Ready to do Your will
Purify my heart
Cleanse me from within
And make me holy
Purify my heart
Cleanse me from sin
Deep within

This song is from Brian Doerksen’s Today, one of those CD’s that the Spirit led me to at just the right time. It’s a beautiful, simple prayer for God to make us holy.

The Christian Science Monitor has an interesting article, Christianity in a nutshell: Britain's '100-Minute Bible'. This new Bible boils down the whole of Scripture to about 60 pages, with the goal of giving the reader a chronological understanding. The publisher and writer, an Anglican clergyman, also kept the focus on Jesus Christ: the gospels take center stage and the Old Testament, Epistles, and Revelation are packaged as pointing to and following up on Jesus. The title comes from the format: 50 sections that can be read in about 2 minutes each.

Sounds like a cool project to me, though critics complain that such an abridgement removes the variety of styles and genres in the Bible. One critic remarked, “What’s next? Downloading sermons from iTunes?” Obviously, this guy doesn’t know that plenty of people are taking sermons with them as mp3s or subscribing to religious podcasts.

You can read a sample, the Sermon on the Mount, on the 100-Minute Press site.

Tennyson’s “Flower in the crannied wall”

September 24, 2005

Flower in the crannied wall,
I pluck you out of the crannies;–
Hold you here, root and all, in my hand,
Little flower–but if I could understand
What you are, root and all, and all in all,
I should know what God and man is.

One of my favorite poems.

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rethinking worship

September 2, 2005

I recently searched a stock image site using the keyword “worship.” I got what I expected: white men photographed from behind, their hands upraised. The only thing that changed was the background: a sunset, a church, a white void.

It pains me that a gesture I find personally significant–raising my hands to my Father–has become a cliché.…

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