Carpenter

He always saw better with his eyes closed. You can feel the wood that way. Little else mattered now, the doctors said he hadn’t much longer to live. He always saw better with his eyes closed. What really mattered now? Well? What else was there? Nothing. So he got out of bed because he had one more day. He left his room because he had one more day. He went out to his shop, because he had one more day. One more day to see the world, to feel the grains, to hear the sound sandpaper makes when it runs over the Pine skin. Smoothing it, like grit of life inextricably glued to the paper of his existence preparing him for the end. Preparing him for…well? It was about process, something about process. Something about enjoying the ride, about doing something and enjoying it while you did it, not just doing something for the sake of killing time. That was the way he saw it now, what a fool. Oh how he wished he could go back now. To relive his days…but this isn’t that kind of story. He went out to his shop, closing the door behind him, sealing it, and then he started his last project. His own coffin.

A carpenter never dreams of something like this. Never. Never in a million years do they ever think about doing something this morbid. What else is there? What could possibly be more morbid than building your own coffin from treated pine, and hard maple? He inspected the boards, much like his own frame, some grains neatly in line with what you’d expect from a specimen of wood, others misaligned, knotted spots, like marks on a reputation. Still, mostly good; Good enough. He mercilessly threw it on the sander. Life hadn’t been nearly as kind with his father’s divorcing his mother – shattering his family early on. He had been ten. He threw another piece on. The death of his grandparents. Trauma – makes you smooth – takes off the roughness, his had been mental – the board cried out as the sander hit a knot. Suffereing, it sharpens you. He kept reasoning. He kept working. He kept thinking. Because he had one more day.

He took out an old jigsaw – the oldest in his family – the same things that had plagued him at the beginning – would plague him now. Still the same fights, just different patterns, different kick backs, different jarring moments when the saw would jump off the wood sending splinters into his memory. What else is there? He put the saw back on the board. Pulled the trigger – moved the long electric cord – kept going. Why? Because he had more day. Because it was the right thing to do. Because it was all there was to do. You can’t quit. You can’t give up. You might be at the end, but as long as you have breath? Well? What else is there? He grabbed some finishing nails. The best kind – some left on reserve (but what was the point of having reserve now? Or insurance? Or even policy? Or protocol? Or even a title on his house?) The best kind he had. Set them aside. No need to stain it – what was the point? He finished the cutting. That was it. Right when you thought a piece was finished, right when you thought everything was going to be okay. Everything was going to be fine – going to be a light at the end of a tunnel – that’s when the nails start. That’s when the four cornered steel blades precisely split you without mercy. He had flunked out his first year of college. Stranded in the middle of some town no one could remember. That nail…one he’d never forget. Then when it’s done driving itself home, you get another – bills. And another – news. Well? What else was there? There was always good. Always good with whatever happened. He joined the two boards, set the glue, clamped it shut. The glue seeped out – things that freeze splinters; a pay raise, a tax break, his projects, a girlfriend. You always had to have glue. Keeps things together. He joined the sides – the pain was over. He knew what nails would come. He took the hardwood maple and started the sanding and the cutting and the thinking…all over again.

Jeremiah 33:3

While digging through my archives...

1 AM, journal entry 5/7/2007

"Dear Lord, My 'Calculus-MATH-152-I-think-I'm-gonna-die' test is tomorrow-I'm SO stressed out. That exam tonight - even though it was practice - made me feel SO unprepared. Lord, I need confidence. For some/most of the answers it felt (once I knew the answer) like I was just a 'step' away. Lord, when you created me why didn't you make me math smart? I really feel like engineering is where You want me-or am I wrong there?! Not being good in math is confusing. I get stuff jumbled up and backwards - I just can't keep it straight - that's why I'm so in need of your help. Man, I wasted so much time - will I ever learn? God, I have no idea how I'm going to do on this test tomorrow. NO IDEA. I mean, it's like if they ask the question one way - I can get it. Another way? I'm screwed. Ugh, it's frustrating when all my friends are getting A's and I'm barely scraping for a 'C'. I guess this semesters going to tell a lot huh? I mean, You could fail me pretty easy - see? NO CONFIDENCE! Lord, be my confidence - even though I don't even understand what that means.

I got an 85 on this test. The highest grade I've ever received in a college calculus class up until that time.

"Call to Me and I will answer you, and I will tell you great and mighty things, which you do not know" - Jeremiah 33:3 (emphasis added)

Comment on Paradise Lost 7.542

While I am not quite certain as to whether or not I am writing as a result of some profound inspiration or rather, having read far too much Milton (or drinking two cups of coffee), I have a couple observations that I would like to explore here within John Milton's Paradise Lost.

Written as the only "English" Epic, or example of Epic poetry written in the English language for English culture, is a story about the fall of Lucifer, mankind, and written in the Epic style following that of Homer and Virgil (i.e. the Iliad, the Odyssey, and the Aeneid).

What I would like to explore is found in a scene set amidst a sort of re-telling of the Creation, and the comment is made about the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. It reads:

"...but of the Tree
Which tasted works knowledge of Good and Evil,
Thou mai'st not; in the day thou eat'st, thou di'st;
Death is the penaltie impos'd, beware," - Paradise Lost 7.742-745

Keeping in mind that "The wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Jesus Christ our Lord" (Romans 6:23)

It's interesting to me that God has maintained His standard of zero tolerance and, yet, infinite mercy - since the beginning. That is, He is a profoundly consistent God.

Even sitting in lecture having come to the conclusion that the atheistic world view is not one to vehemently disagree with, but rather to pity. It is out of ignorance, not valid thought, that they have arrived at their conclusions. Let the argument begin at a mere 'showing' of the spiritual realm in terms of simple cause and effect cited by the Spiritually Elect (John Calvin theology aside, let this stand to be anyone saved by grace - Romans 10:9, Ephesians 2:8). That is, for example, that when I go to sleep after praying the Armor of God over myself (Ephesians 6) I sleep far better than on the nights that I don't. On the latter nights, I have awoken from dreams being chased by cannibalistic tribes and out-of-control car accidents - should I intentionally fail to pray these things to generate more evidence? Or what of the girl in my lifegroup who, after being tormented by nightmares for several months, came to the Lord, and mid-nightmare (having memorized every subsequent 'scene') sees herself crying to the Lord, Him coming, and the dream evaporating - and the dream is yet to return? Miracles are for today. It's this sort of thing that I think His mercy reaches to, that atheist are simply not familiar with. So keep Romans 2:4 in mind, and kindly illustrate when the opportunity arises (and not a moment before). It is this sort of unreasoning to which the Word speaks "and they will overcome by the blood of the Lamb, and the word of their testimony" (Revelation 12:11). So share first the testimony of our consistent God, the workings of His in your life, and share second the wrote memorization of the gospel tract. Let this be our default, unless the Spirit Himself leads otherwise.