I really, really like this quote:

"The most powerful drive in the ascent of man is his pleasure in his own skill. He loves to do waht he does well, and having done it well, he loves to do it better. You see it in his science. You see it in the magnificence with which he carves and builds, the loving care, the gaiety, the effrontery. The monuments are supposed to commemorate kings and religions, heroes, dogmas, but in the end the man they commemorate is the builder."
-Jacob Bronowski

By the way, apparently Coldplay's song, "Lost!" has a version where Jay-Z raps on it. I'm not going to lie, it's pretty awesome.

a love letter skillfully crafted

It really wasn't that long ago that Christ chose to reveal himself to me. December 31, 2001 to be exact. I guess in some circles that would entail a "birthday" coming up. I typically veer away from the title, mostly because a birthday absent of cake or gifts has a depressing ring to it. December 31st awakened me and quickly thrust me into a love for God and a love for anything bearing the name of God. I inundated myself in Christian subculture; the bracelets, the horrible movies, the mediocre music, (thankfully not the t-shirts). I may not have been Ned Flanders, but I was a distant cousin. Wrapped up in the youthful zeal of my faith was a lot of ignorance. A lot.

I used to think hymns were outdated expressions of worship that probably displeased God. What God enjoyed was the new worship music, the ones with simpler, more heart-felt lyrics. The ones with better (and louder) melodies, not that stuff with an old muffled organ and wordy words I had never even heard of. Spontenaity was the purest and most powerful expressions of the heart.

I couldn't be further from that confession than I am now.

Imagine a man's response when he first hears that his wife and children have been taken captive by the enemy and slaughtered. He throws himself to the ground, cries out in tormet, rips his clothes, and rubs his head in ashes, until his energy ebbs into a pitiable, "No, no, no." Here is utter spontaneity, utterly real emotion, no studied design, no conscious constraints.

But picture this man a week later, when the services are over and the friends have departed, and he is alone with the weight of his loss. The excruciating pain of the first blast is gone, and now there is the throb and ache of an amputated soul. What does he do to express this deep and settling grief? Between the periodic heaving sobs he reaches for a form and begins to make his lamentation. Studied, crafted, pondered, full of power. When the time comes, he will read or recite this lamentation. But no one will say of this formed grief: "It is canned." On the contrary, it will strike deeper than the sobs. It will show more of what he has brought up from the depths. (John Piper)

Here's an old hymn that has got my heart lately:

Be Thou My Vision

Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art.
Thou my best Thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.

Be Thou my Wisdom, and Thou my true Word;
I ever with Thee and Thou with me, Lord;
Thou my great Father, I Thy true son;
Thou in me dwelling, and I with Thee one.

Be Thou my battle Shield, Sword for the fight;
Be Thou my Dignity, Thou my Delight;
Thou my soul’s Shelter, Thou my high Tower:
Raise Thou me heavenward, O Power of my power.

Riches I heed not, nor man’s empty praise,
Thou mine Inheritance, now and always:
Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,
High King of Heaven, my Treasure Thou art.

High King of Heaven, my victory won,
May I reach Heaven’s joys, O bright Heaven’s Sun!
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,
Still be my Vision, O Ruler of all.

There is legitimacy in spontenaiety and there is beauty in craft. Don't remain with the ignorance of your youth. Dig deep. Find that which lies behind every desire and every confession of your soul. It may take some work. It may arouse some hidden pain. The beauty you discover will be far exceeding.

May you live the deepest life possible.