Reading Journal

For anyone who cares, I apologize for not updating the lit blog like I said I would.

I'm still reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. (I feel very blessed to finally be able to spell that word correctly on only the second try.) I also started Six Hours One Friday by Max Lucado. I intend to have Six Hours finished by May 31 so I can start on my 2010 issue of the Briar Cliff Review. Which I will be picking up on Saturday.

Things have kind of fizzled out with Zen and A of MM. Probably because I wanted more MM and less Zen. Six Hours is pretty good, as far as Christian literature goes. It's at least kept me interested through the whole book, even if I don't understand the organization of it. Both have provided me with some quotable passages over the past, erm, month. *sheepish grin* I've been busy, ok?

We'll start with Zen and Art of MM
p. 75
"A photograph can show a physical image in which time is static, and a mirror can show a physical image in which time is dynamic, but I think what he saw on the mountain was another kind of image altogether which was not physical and did not exist in time at all. It was an image nevertheless and that is why he felt recognition."
"He wanted to free himself from his own image. He wanted to destroy it because the ghost was what he was and he wanted to be free from the bondage of his own identity."
Who hasn't felt that?

p. 107
"...he is like someone or some creature that has found an exit from a cage he did not even know was around him, and is wildly roaming over the countryside visually devouring everything in sight."
I kinda wanna be like that.

p. 110
"People spend their entire lives at those lower altitudes without any awareness that this high country exists."

____________
Moving on to Six Hours...
The back cover holds a pretty good description of the book.
"No matter what the storm clouds bring, you can face your pain with courage and hope. For two thousand years ago--six hours, one Friday--Christ firmly planted in bedrock three solid anchor points that we all can cling to:
Our lives are not futile. Our failures are not fatal. Our deaths are not final.
For the heart scarred with futility, that Friday holds purpose. For the life blackened with failure, that Friday holds forgiveness. And for the soul looking into the tunnel of death, that Friday holds deliverance."
See why I wanted to read it?

I love his style and will share some excerpts now.

p. 21
"A witness could not help but ask: Jesus,...what holds you to the cross? Nails don't hold gods to trees. What makes you stay?"

p. 23
"The one who has the right to condemn you provided the way to acquit you. You make mistakes. God doesn't. And he made you."

"He only went in to prove he could come out."

I want to use chapter 3 in a lesson sometime. The whole chapter is good.

p. 40
Lucado recants the tale of the woman at the well. How she goes at midday to avoid the gossipy murmurings about her. Jesus is there, waiting, and tells her who He is. She then turns and runs into the city with the news.
"Did you notice what she forgot? She forgot her water jar. She left behind the jug that had caused the sag in her shoulders. She left behind the burdens she brought."
And where did she leave them, I ask? With the Messiah. What an insight!

p. 41
"For some of you the story of these two women is touching but distant. You belong. You are needed and you know it. You've got more friends than you can visit and more tasks than you can accomplish.
"Insignificance will not be chiseled on your tombstone.
"Be thankful.
"But others of you are different....
"You know what it's like to have no one sit by you at the cafeteria. You've wondered what it would be like to have one good friend. You've been in love and you wonder if it is worth the pain to do it again.
"And you, too, have wondered where in the world God is."

p. 52
Describing doubt, one of Satan's favorite tools.
"He'll pester you. He'll irritate you. He'll criticize your judgment. He'll kick the stool out from under you and refuse to help you up. He'll tell you not to believe in the invisible yet offer no answer for the inadequacy of the visible.
"He's a mealy-mouthed, two-faced liar who deals from the bottom of the deck. His aim is not to convince you but to confuse you. He doesn't offer solutions, he only raises questions.
"Don't let him fool you."

p. 56
"When a whip ripped his sides, he didn't turn and command the awaiting angels to stuff that whip down that soldier's throat."

p. 63
"Your complaints are not over teh lack of necessities but the abundance of benefits. You bellyache over the frills, not the basics; over benefits, not essentials. The source of your problems is your blessings."

p. 73
"I put a bumper sticker on my bicycle."

p. 100
Lucado speculation on some of what God may have been thinking during those Six Hours:
"Soldiers, you think you lead him? Ropes, you think you bind him? Men, you think myou sentence him? He heeds not your commands. He winces not at your lashes. It is my voice he obeys. It is my condemnation he dreads. And it is your souls he saves."

p. 108
I'm going to risk pilfering even more time and just tell the story in Lucado's words.
"My wife has a cousin named Rob. Rob is a great guy. His good heart and friendly smile endear him to everyone. He is the kind of fellow you call upon when you can't call on on anyone else.
"So when the Girl Scouts needed someone to dress up like the Cookie Monster at a fund-raiser, who did they call? You got it. Rob.
"There were a few problems. First, no one anticipated the day of the campaign would be so hot. Second, Rob didn't know that the costume would be so big. Third, who would have thought that Rob's glasses would fog up so badly he couldn't see? As he was sitting on the stage waiting his turn to speak, the heat inside the mask covered his glasses with fog. He couldn't wipe them off--his paws were too big to fit in the eyehole.
"He started to worry. Any minute he would be called upon to give a talk, and he couldn't even see where the podium was!
"He whispered for help. The costume was to thick; his cries went unheard.
"He began to wave his hands. What he heard in response were the squeals of delight from the kids. The thought he was waving at them!
"As I heard this story I chuckled...and then I sighed. It was too familiar. Cries for help muffled behind costumed faces? Fear hidden behind a painted smile? Signals of desperation thought to be signs of joy?
"Tell me that doesn't describe our world."

p. 113
"He [Christ] later stretched out his hands as open as he could. He forced his arms so wide apart that it hurt. And to prove that those arms would never fold and those hands would never close, he had them nailed open."

p. 123
"You only kill a king if he has a kingdom."

p. 141
"A man reaches a point where his desperation is a notch above his dignity. He shrugs his shoulders. 'What choice do I have?'"