punchworthy

A blog whereby I motivate myself, and my readers, to punch me in the mouth.



  "Punchworthy feeds our deepest Freudian wishes!" --Entertainment

  "The consumate rocker's rocker. Charming, personable... a sucking void of inescapable inner turmoil."
  --Newsweek
  

Monday, November 21, 2005

forever

I know, I know. It's been forever since I posted.

I am sure that most of you have long-since stopped bothering to check, dropping this "blog" thing into the category of "things that John got all excited about but then didn't really follow through on."

Well, I'm back, so HA!

{chirp... chirp... chirp...}

Alright, so nobody cares. But "ha", nonetheless.

Speaking of forever.. (yes, we were).. I have been thinking a lot about forever lately. About eternity.

See, the small group is reading this book, A Long Obedience in the Same Direction, about spiritual pilgrimage and discipline, and one of the things that has caught my attention is the idea that everything matters. Everything is eternal. Every moment is sacred.

Not because there's anything particularly special about the mundane. (otherwise, it would cease to be "the mundane") It's still pretty much of no consequence.

And there are still lots of moments... waiting for elevators, tying shoes, trying to get your kids not to read "The Enquirer" in line at the super-market checkout... that aren't anything very impressive, in and of themselves, either.

The psalmist said, "Unless God builds the house..." you've got a shack when you're done.

But, really, whether or not God is involved, the structure can end up looking the same, serving the same purpose, totally failing to remain standing.. whatever... right? So the house doesn't really change, physically, because of God's involvement.

It changes metaphysically. It changes on the spiritual plane of purpose. The moment changes.

Not because anything changed about the moment, physically. But because, once God is involved (though he was involved all along--so I guess once his involvement is acknowledged), and because he is ultimately working all things toward his purpose, toward his glory, toward the good of those who love him.. the moment becomes infused with purpose.

And suddenly, every moment is sacred.

It may still be stupid. But it's also sacred.

Sacred and stupid.


So there you go.

I am working on a song about this. I wrote it. And now I am trying to record it.

And it is totally failing--kind of like the post above--to capture the idea.

But whatever. I'm pretty sure that the abject failure is also sacred, so no doubt it'll all work out just fine. : ]

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