The end!

This blog is defunct. If you got here it’s because I put a bad url somewhere.

The REAL blog is over at http://theilliteratescribe.com

See ya there!

Oops!

It seems that I’ve forgotten to let all you readers know that I’ve actually migrated back to Blogspot. As much as I like this pretty blog I can’t really work two under the nasty Internet connections I have here. Please update your links accordingly.

The Cook

Whose son?

I am a confused son of God
Ignorant of my family roots
Angry and bitter under the rod
Standing by the bush in my boots

I’m a clean looking child of Bhaal
A man after my father’s heart.
Trying hard to fight against it all
Trying hard not to fall apart.

But who is it? Yahweh or Bhaal?
Who is it who gave birth to me?
Now it feels like the Lord of the fall
Before it was the one in three.

This neighborly war is quite hard
I try to negotiate peace
between these two foes that I call ‘lord’
though the fighting may never cease.

My fathers are too far apart
to think that a treaty is nigh.
Perhaps I need to unite my heart
for a house divided must die.

One gives a road with lots of strife.
The other just gives double death.
The first one sprouts to eternal life.
The second will suck out my breath.

I don’t know the Spirit within
I assume he’s rather like me
Acquiescing to my every whim
And letting my passions run free.

So when I call fire from heaven
to consume my every foe
I forget that mine is the leaven
that’s contaminating this dough.

Armchair Athlete

Here is my place, behind the big brick wall,
Watching silly boys play cricket.
They’re throwing, hitting and catching the ball.
Knocking and saving the wicket.

I could play much better than them you know.
I’ve talent and lots of learning.
I could teach them all how to run and throw
If this sun wasn’t so burning.

And look at the size of that wooden ball
It could give you a bloody nose.
If it hits me square I’m liable to fall
And ruin my new cricket clothes.

And all this fast running and this throwing
Just cannot be good for the heart.
And the wind through my hair would be blowing
And wrecking my near-perfect part.

So I stay safely behind this barrier
Watching all the foolish boys play.
Running after the balls like a terrier
Wasting their whole entire day.

It’s true, yes, they may get some real glory
It’s true that they may gain some fame.
But you never will hear their own story
For they’re playing for the coaches great name.

I really do not think it is worth it
To run all around in this heat.
If I play I may get tired or (worse) hit.
And watching is ever so neat.

Sans risk and sans effort, that’s how I play
Sitting with my clean Cricket-Book
I’ll just hold it here most of this hot day
And try very hard not to look.

Because sometimes there are things that I read
That probably should not be read.
That when cricket is in word but not deed
It’s a game without players and dead.

Ariel

Ariel, Oh Ariel

I knocked. And, sure enough, it was opened to me. That was a good sign. The great gold-plated oak door swung inward and I was greeted by the lady of the house. She beamed at me with the smile of a sun.

“My dear traveler!” She said as she took my hand and pulled me into the mansion. “You are most welcome here! Thank you for coming and joining our beautiful home. Isn’t the house wonderful? My husband built it for me ages ago. It’s big and beautiful and wonderful and lovely! You will love living here, I know it! Come in, come in, please take off your shoes. I’d hate to have this wonderful floor stained. It’s imported marble, you know.”

Obediently I removed my shoes and placed them on the shoe rack which, I noticed, was piled ten feet high with various sizes of dirty shoes.

“Oh, forgive my manners.” Screamed the lady, as she led me out of the foyer, “I’ve forgotten to introduce myself. I am Ariel, and my husband is the master of this house. This big and beautiful house. You should meet him, for he is an interesting man. I’m sure he’s nearby.”

“Ariel! Oh Ariel!”

“Ah! You hear him? He’s calling me. Let us meet him together. Come, this way, I think.”

Ariel led me into a massive room, more glorious than the one before. Every inch of wall and floor space was covered in photographs and paintings, so that I could not tell what color of paint was on the walls. I had to step carefully so as not to destroy any pictures.

“Strange, I thought his voice was coming from here. No matter, you should see this room anyway. It is one of my favorite rooms. My husband’s picture is here somewhere. We shall find him together.”

And so we searched for the image of her spouse, though I don’t know if we ever found it. I saw pictures of every conceivable thing. Of crosses, acronyms, various types of currencies, chairs, foods, song books, social works, systems and plans and methods. But I found no picture of a man until the very end. Underneath a pile of ancient photos was a dusty, broken, out-of-focus picture of a wounded strong man. But I was pulled away before I could get a good look at it.

“Ariel! Oh Ariel! I love you so much!”

“Ah ha! There is my husband’s voice again. He’s such a lovely man and loves me so much. I think he was calling from the kitchen, let’s go there and meet him.”

Again she took me by the hand and, injuring my shoulder, pulled me from the photo I was trying to examine and brought me into the kitchen.

“Here is the beautiful room in which I do all my hard work for my husband. I serve him very well. He tells me so every day. This is one of my favorite rooms.”

The first thing that caught my glance was the kitchen sink which, contrary to ordinary sinks, was full of dirt and presently growing a lovely garden of dandelions. Ariel noticed my confusion.

“It’s true, the water from the sink was clean and clear. But these flowers are so much prettier. I keep it very well groomed for my husband.”

My attention then turned to the pantry, whose door was ajar. Looking inside I could see what food she prepared when the couple ate together. Mostly moldy bread and many bottles of expensive whisky. Again, Ariel explained.

“Indeed I used to have the best wine, but these days it’s mostly mixed with water. Whisky suits me just fine. The bread is optional.” Here she opened the refrigerator, which had only translucent milk inside. “Meat is fattening and bad for the heart. Skim milk is best for keeping bones and skin strong and beautiful. My husband would surely agree, if only he were here.”

“Ariel! Oh Ariel! You always do that which pleases me!”

“Ah ha! There he is again, I think he’s calling from the hall.”

As she took my arm again I noticed her bones sticking out from her skin. Her hand was cold and I wondered if she might be sick. We entered a large, glorious hall, upon which she released me and told me how large and glorious it was. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a view of a dusty, dark corner where a desk stood piled with papers. I went to examine. The papers were all notes from doctors hired by Ariel’s husband. They warned her about her lethally promiscuous lifestyle. They told her she needed to come in to see the doctor and take the bread and wine her husband made, as it was the only cure. Seeing my interest in these pages Ariel came to me and pulled me away.

“Oh don’t you bother with those. It’s true that I have a slight cold, but these silly doctors are overreacting. They are just jealous because of the wonderful freedom I have with my husband.” She said as she wiped a spot of blood away from her nose.

“Ariel! Oh Ariel! I’ll never leave you!”

“Ah ha! Now I know where he is. He’s in our special room.” She took my hand and led me into a special room indeed. It was a massive room with a carpet eight inches thick. A single massive chair sat in the middle, surrounded by televisions, stereos, book shelves, CD racks, swimming pools, liturgies, video games, sex toys, religious memorabilia and scores of other things I couldn’t recognize. “This is where I spend quality time with my husband. I’m sure he’s here.”

As my weak eyes took in this amazing site I was drawn to a corner similar to the
one I saw in the hall. It was dark and unused. It had a simple wooden chair sitting beside a boarded up window. I suddenly realized that it was the first window I had seen in the entire house. I wanted to go close so I could see what was through the crack, but again Ariel stopped me and began to pull me away.

“Ariel! Oh Ariel! You are my beloved and I will build you a house one day.”

I could have sworn that the voice was coming from outside. But I wasn’t able to tell Ariel that.

“Quick, quick! I’m sure I know where he is now!” She dragged me out of the special room to a simple hall that looked unused for many years. At the end of the hall was another boarded up window and a staircase. I wondered what was up the stairs, and so I asked Ariel.

“Oh nothing special. I think it’s a watchtower and a bell. You see, many years ago my husband was at war and I think I used to climb the bell tower to watch and warn people of danger. But that’s not needed anymore. My husband is a man of peace now and has no quarrels with anyone. He has matured much since marrying me…”

She seemed to lose herself in her muse and I was free to look through the cracks in the boarded up window. Across many a hill I could spy a battlefield. Countless foes poured over the hills into a valley to do violence on a lone warrior. Goblins and men threw arrows, swords and bombs against the valiant one, who never showed an inclination of retreat. I strained to look closer. I could see that the warrior was a beautiful lioness, though scarred and tired from the endless fighting. For a moment I though that she was fighting alone, without assistance, but then I heard a voice and saw a glorious man who resembled the man whose picture I saw in the photo room.

“Ariel! Oh Ariel!” he said to the lioness, “Ariel, fear not for I am your husband. Fear not for I will feed you with choice meat and bread and wine. I will heal all your wounds and keep you beautiful.”

I watched the continuing battle and saw how when the foes seemed too great the lioness’s husband would devour them with the breath of his nostrils. Or when the lioness’s wounds became too great he would pour wine on them and they would disappear. Or when she seemed to become too tired to continue he would give her meat that made her eyes dance and her fervor was made uncontrollable.

“Ariel! Oh Ariel! Once this battle is won I will take you home to a house I am building for you. I will have sweet fellowship with you forever and we will always be one and never separated. Fear not, I am your husband and have no spouse but you. Oh Ariel!”

I wanted to continue watching, I even thought about going out to the Lioness of God, but my thoughts were interrupted before I could make a choice. The woman of the house I was standing in pulled me away from the window and rebuked me for being more interested in the outside than in her great and glorious house. She then hugged me with a cold, bony hug and said, “I’m sure my husband is in the house somewhere. Wanna wait for him and watch a movie?”

Sunflowers

I was driving down the road the other day and we passed a massive field of sunflowers. The strange thing was that every single sunflower was facing away from the sun. I mean, they were facing the exact opposite direction. This is the product of that:

Sit here on the bench and please let me tell
Of a land you just may have seen
I’ll describe it, see if it rings a bell
If both of your ears are quite keen

Most things in this land are somewhat quite strange
With oddities much more than one.
The oddest through the land’s entire range:
Sunflowers face away from the sun.

And though this is one of the strangest things
It isn’t just one of a kind.
For flightless birds with big wonderful wings
Should also be blowing your mind.

Sheep and wolves graze together on a hill
And share their friendly intercourse.
And though sometimes a wolf a sheep may kill
The sheep will never change their course.

‘Tis odd enough that they do not bother
When the wolves devour their kind
But odder still, sheep eat their own brother
When green grass proves too hard to find.

Many springs flow there, both crystal and clear,
Always constant flow maintaining.
But to the springs no one ever goes near
Cisterns prove more entertaining.

In wide open fields some crops are still sown
Of thistles and dandelions.
They shoot up quite fast, and when they’re full grown
Are eaten with rocks and pylons.

All these things and more you’ve seen in this land
In words and in deeds and in song.
And one true thing is as clear as your hand:
This land cannot will not last long.

If you have seen this land that is dying
Perhaps you have asked yourself, “Why?
Why are there weeds and birds that aren’t flying?
And wolves and treacherous sheep nigh?”

The answer is plain, though it’s hard to grasp
I said it after stanza one.
The reason for troubles that make you gasp
Is sunflowers facing from sun.

The seeds of a sunflower in this strange place
Are the healing of the nation
If the sunflowers would only turn their face
To the sun who made creation.

It is hard to turn, yes that much is true.
It’s hard for them to change their ways.
But if they won’t drink the sun and the dew
Be scared: This world will be erased.

For what’s the use of a non-flying bird,
Or weeds and thistles in the ground?
Or sheep that tolerate wolves in the herd
Or sunflowers who love to face down?

So here is the charge, come from the mountain:
To two great evils do we turn.
We’ve left the sun – our almighty fountain
For our broken, poisoned cistern.

My wife

What can I say? I love her.

A choice

It seems that Pakistan has lifted its block of blogspot.

And so the question arises. What will Matt do? Should I continue to chill here or should I run back to blogspot? Here’s some pros and cons I’m thinking about:

Blogspot

Better customization options.

Will be more popular on search results

I started there four years ago, would be a shame to lose it all now.

Better software, all-around

WordPress

Easier. Don’t need to do anything if I stay with WordPress.

Blogspot may very well become blocked again in the future.

Post some comments and help me figure this out. What do I do? Where do I go? I’ll let the public decide.

The watchman

Reading through a J.I. Packer book these days and I came across a reference from Ezekiel.

“Son of man, I have made you a watchman over the house of Israel. Whenever you hear a word from my mouth, you shall give them a warning from me. If I say to the wicked, ‘You shall surely die,’ and you give him no warning, nor speak to warn the wicked from his wicked way, in order to save his life, that wicked person shall die for his iniquity, but his blood I will require at your hand.”

Two things struck me as important to comment on.

First, we have all been made watchmen over the people we live with, over the people who fall into our sphere of influence. We have heard the warnings of God to those who live in unbelief. If we ourselves have turned it is our responsibility to warn those who have not yet turned. If they die with their sin without hearing warnings from us, then God will judge them and hold us accountable for the death of their souls.

Secondly, we often try to apply justify what we do. In evangelism we justify our lack of action by reasoning that those around us would probably not listen to us if we did warn them. But God highlights a very pertinent point. If you don’t warn them they will not turn. Certainly they may not turn even if you do warn them. But you can be assured that if they are never warned they will never turn. No one can turn to Christ without someone or something pointing them to Him.

I’ve not much to say about this, it’s pretty clear. To whom much is given much will be expected. We have been given the eternal and powerful gospel of Christ. What are we doing with it? How many people’s blood will be on our hands on the last day?

‘Cuz I’ve been through the desert in a car with no name.

I recently found out that my town is a mere thirty minutes from the edge of the largest desert in Pakistan. The Thar. Pretty kewl, eh? So we’ve taken a couple trips there and I wanna show off the pics.

Here we have a beautiful snake charmer and his beautiful snakes. We stumbled across an entire village of snake charmers out in the desert. I plan to visit them again this Saturday. Lovely folks. We asked what happens if the cobras bite. They said that was no problem because they have special magic that will bring you back to life. Eww.




Ahh, finally driving after two years of being driven. I feel like a man again.

So if you wanna see a nice desert, come on out and visit!