Bringing You Up to Date

I am on a treatment that is truly making me sicker. I know that it has the potential make me better, but meanwhile I’m suffering joint pain and abdominal abnormalities on a daily basis. If you are a praying person, I’d appreciate your support. And thank you.

We are two months into this treatment. It will last at least three months and perhaps as long as six months. It’s a double bind situation. You want to have hope and yet it really, really hurts.

A lot of my activities have necessarily been curtailed. It’s about all I can handle to get through my work stuff and the basics of life. I haven’t made any new photos since July except for one shot out the window. I’ve decided to stop publishing reworked old photos until I can make some new ones.

I also haven’t written on this weblog like I really want to. I hope to figure it all out soonish.

I’ve recently been noticing how hard my illness hits Carol. She is the best at being a helper and and health care giver. I think the frustrating part is knowing when there is really a crisis. Sometimes I complain so much that she thinks I must be ready to die in a few days. Then a half-day later I tell her I’m ok. That’s on me; she doesn’t need to carry that kind of load. I need to assess myself more realistically.

You could pray for her, too. Sometimes I believes it’s actually harder on her.

What is it like to write a commentary? | Psephizo

From a personal point of view, the whole process was a remarkable spiritual experience. To spend such an extended time immersed so deeply in a text of Scripture was a wonderful experience, and a number of my writing weeks offered me a profound sense of being in the presence of God. I hope to repeat the experience in future commentary writing.
— Read on www.psephizo.com/biblical-studies/what-is-it-like-to-write-a-commentary/

Here is a wholly enjoyable read from Ian Paul on his writing of the rather new volume on Revelation in the IVP OT and NT commentary series.

Barn Prints

My wife is a country girl, a farm girl. She wants barn prints for the wall. I’ll give her barn prints.

I printed this on at 12×18 inches yesterday. It’s the first print I’ve made bigger than 8.5×11. It came out pretty good.

5190817

Now I need to concentrate on acquiring assets. That’s photospeak for I need to take some pictures. I’ll be concentrating on that project for the next little while.

Reading the Psalms

I’ve been reading through the Psalms. It is kind of a tedious task for me (and I’m not proud of it) because there is a lot of repetition and I’m really not a poetry guy. I want to be a poetry guy and I try, but it doesn’t come easily to me.

One of my main observations so far is that the world of the Psalms is way different from my world. The Psalms are full of intrigue. Usually the prayer is about someone who wants to kill the pray-er and asking God for protection and help.

I have asked God for help many times, but as far as I know, no one has ever been out to get me. I mean, I have had little work rivalries and even some church rivalries where there was a mutual distrust and maybe even some ill-wishing. But I don’t feel like I’ve ever been threatened with death and destruction, nor have I wanted that for another.

Nearly every Psalm has some of that.

Today I read Psalm 71 and something hit home, though.

Verse 9 (NRSV):

Do not cast me off in the time of old age;
do not forsake me when my strength is spent.

Again, I don’t see this so much as a personal attack on myself, but I see it all the time where, as a class, older folks are forsaken.

Not by God, of course. But by mostly everyone else except those who make their living caring for old people.

And I’m thinking of especially the church. Church these days is for the young and vigorous, those who have something to offer. We have no voice anymore.

Maybe it has always been that way. I hope I haven’t disrespected old people the way we are disrespected. I don’t know.

But I will say that the Psalmists prayer has been answered in my life. God has not cast me off, nor has he forsaken me. Thank you, Father.