Greetings and Update

Advent Blessings! I have been state-side for a few weeks now looking after a few family and personal matters. Having finished all the requirements for my Masters of Arts in Biblical History and Geography, I am now looking to lead trips to Israel and to get more involved with the Olive Branch Institute. The Olive Branch Institute is an Israel based ministry providing a network of support services for Sudanese refugees, Bedouin, single-parents and orphans, which includes: providing food coupons; counseling services; skills training; support groups; children’s camps, and much more.

My family has been going through all kinds of transformation - two funerals, a wedding, and a new born. All of my brothers are hitched and the kid-count is up to 5 with 2 on the way – niece and nephew fun!

I am experiencing my own kind of transition coming back to America. I am not convinced there is a suitable way to prep for re-entry, as it were. Often the challenge is trusting that God will provide in his time and in His way; this, in the face of all kinds of questions.

           

Here as a representative of the Olive Branch Institute, I have been traveling around meeting with Pastors, teachers, colleagues and friends. After being home for a time, I have taken to the road again. My latest adventures have taken me through North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, Washington and British Columbia, Canada intentionally seeking counsel and support of friends and ministries along the way.

While I don’t have this next chapter figured out, I am learning day by day to trust that God will finish what he started. The exciting bits about this advent season are the barrage of reminders that God condescended in His Son, a redeemer providing real means of real escape from the consequences of real sin. The affects establish grounds of faith we can live in… even when so much is unknown and hard!

Thanks so much for your support and prayers.

It is all very meaningful,

Blessings and Love,

Grace and Peace,

Seth Hague 

December 25, 2011

(Psalm 139 ESV)

O LORD, you have searched me and known me!
You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
you discern my thoughts from afar.
You search out my path and my lying down
and are acquainted with all my ways.
Even before a word is on my tongue,
behold, O LORD, you know it altogether.
You hem me in, behind and before,
and lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
it is high; I cannot attain it.
Where shall I go from your Spirit?
Or where shall I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there!
If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
If I take the wings of the morning
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me.
If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light about me be night,”
even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is bright as the day,
for darkness is as light with you.
For you formed my inward parts;
you knitted me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
my soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there was none of them.
How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!
How vast is the sum of them!
If I would count them, they are more than the sand.
I awake, and I am still with you.
Oh that you would slay the wicked, O God!
O men of blood, depart from me!
They speak against you with malicious intent;
your enemies take your name in vain.
Do I not hate those who hate you, O LORD?
And do I not loathe those who rise up against you?
I hate them with complete hatred;
I count them my enemies.
Search me, O God, and know my heart!
Try me and know my thoughts!
And see if there be any grievous way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting!

(Psalm 139 ESV)

Something I found somewhere...

Its over... situates endings in an uncomfortably personal sense... its terse and final... gone. The concession commits itself to the irredeemable, its drama and death. The last goes finally... griping the jugular in order to feel the pulse break.

Tell me what to make of the silence... save the whispers... or when you hear her voice as if she were near you only to realize she pushed you away... off the ledge to watch you fall...

your journey down wouldn't have been so long had you stop the cycle before it swallowed you up... tally the investments only to find that at one point everything you had was signed over... makes the fire hotter... the fire she started just to watch you burn...

thing is you still love her... why? just as much rational as she gave you when she told you she didn't want to see you anymore... the day after she told you she wanted life with you... complexities will themselves to irreconcilable endings... nothing good... nothing good...

Only sense... primitive and surviving looks for breath above the buried... scratches the surface and builds on these last strings... sad for the cut-off... more difficult to pray that mercy is granted to those who purposely handed you the hell you have had to live in... Its the catch that you either get or you don't... Getting it keeps you alive... at least for now.

Aunt Erma

        Erma Elizabeth Augsburger was born and raised in Adams county, Indian, born on February 10, 1919, born to Samuel and Leah (Shertz) Augsburger. Erma's stories survive her: stories about Leah's soap-making, knitting, meal-prep for the company of thresher's on Threshing day; and her stories about Samuel's hunger for the Bible and diligence on the farm; among many, many others.

I remember Erma as the story-telling minister, ready to offer a word of thanks to God for any little thing; I remember her as a service-ready pianist, always in her heart a melody; and, I remember her as the friend of sinners, ready to make a sandwich to break up any tension or negativity. I can still hear her voice “Do you want something to eat?” "Can I make you a sandwich?" Her appeals were tender and her company, sweet.

Whatever prompted this kind of solidarity? Perhaps it was Samuel's eagerness to get his family to every possible revival and then his intentional, biblically-driven critique of each message. Maybe it was Velma, Erma's oldest sister, who was an exemplar and Christ-exalting care-giver, community-servant, nanny and mother. Or maybe it was the ministry of Ralph Neighbors and the Gospel Temple in Fort Wayne who sent Ivan, Erma's brother, and Erma into the mission field (Ivan to the Dominican Republic; Erma to the rural communities in Ohio and Indiana.). Whatever influences God used, He wooed her to himself and captivated her affections.

As of consequence, Erma left her position at GE for Fort Wayne Bible College in the mid 40's. Her and Ivan were both sent out by the Gospel Temple in the latter half of the 40's. Erma got involved in Bible club ministries during the height of the Bible Club Movement. During which time she ran a club in Fletcher, Ohio where she met a Jean Evelyn Zirkle, who became her best friend, life-long partner and right wing in their later ministries including more club meetings, church work at Mansfield, Brazil, Rockville with the Rural Home Missionary Association, the Bookstores, and finally at Central Baptist Church. Their love for the local church persisted not because they were particularly impressed with the normative structures or the institutions but because they loved the Lord.

What made Erma so attractive was that there was so much continuity between her message and her life; between her affirmations and affections. Two weeks ago through the strains of dementia and age she managed to say two things. I love you and I love Jesus which she repeated again and again and again... I mention this because its indicative of the entire memory that she has left to us. She was unashamedly Christian and in love with Jesus. This was her story and song.

In transit

Mercy flavored coffee begs a deafening advance
and pretends a bigger end than is planned

late and touching passion that divides into a curse
Platonic kind of lovers holding hands until it hurts

Placid kind of friction totaled into yesterday
and dividing those that conquer by the choices that they've made

When you find it hard to breath
You will find it hard to speak
then you will find it hard to leave this one alone

Clarity

You got that sweet smile 
steeped-well taste


You got that hazed-blue,
got you face


You got that good try,
bad guy make




the bottle has spoken to me
the cupid persisting to lead
Sometimes a bonds got you free
Baby, Don't tattle tell on me




You got your smoke screen
Eyes winked black


You got the walled-wake,
pains-baked back


You got the blistered,
embitter mask




the bottle has spoken to me
the cupid persisting to lead
Sometimes a bonds got you free
Baby, Don't tattle tell on me!




You got the daylight,
chide eyed scorn


You got the chapped past,
stead-fast thorn


You got the dark-cloud
skies-loud storm


Sometimes a bonds got you free
Baby, Don't tattle-tell on me
Baby, this jokes told on me...
Baby, this jokes told on me...


Bridge:
And nobody's runnin you through
And I don't know what to do
repeat...

Aunt Jean... Life-lines and Legacies...

   Aunt Jean… logical, hardworking, sensible, practical… winsome, lovely, athletic and calculating… I suppose we all could think of adjectives that would accurately caricature Jean Zirkle at any one point in time along her journey. She girded up the Zirkle’s, arranged the becoming Hague’s, and entreated herself to the Augsburger’s! The last girl of a large clan, Aunt Jean developed a sensitivity and stature that would serve her well over the course of a long commitment to ministry and family…

   81 years and an obituary with a newspaper-limit can muffle off a few accomplishments without ever appreciating the real enduring contributions that a person leaves behind – that Jean left behind. Hers is not an edifice or an endowment, not a bible store or a bike ride – we are her legacy and she was our life-line.

She devoted so much care an attention to our details constantly bugging us about our bills and choices; our friendships and loves; our notions of conservatism and whether or not we were eating well. “You are too skinny”. “You are just trying to get out of work”. “Money doesn’t grow on trees”. “The Bible is not just about Genesis”. She adapted and became for us what we needed when we needed it, saying what she thought regardless of how it might come across.

   Though I have many friends who would grow tired of the stories that were told about war-time, the happy 50’s and so on and so forth. She had a way with her stories, these personal-bits: momma making underwear ‘cause there was no money for it; daddy dying in the factory and leaving us to defend for ourselves; baseball with a stuffed cloth and a stick; imaginations ignorant of boredom; a 25 dollar prize for daring a big-rig bike ride; sisters and brothers fighting over principle; Bible school and Erma; Ministry and Baptists; gossip and gossip that could never dissolve their commitment to the local church; Uncle Ivan’s visits; Mom and Dad, before they grew to love each other; Uncle Richard and the toilet lid; baseball news and church drama somehow proverbial in nature… Stories and stories with big moments and morals…

   These and countless others are the messy-tales told with truisms that have given us all a more attuned perspective to the way things are. After all life is not fair, and whether or not you like your situation you have got to play the hand you are dealt. Her contributions are pent up in her commitments – her commitments to people. No matter how annoying or intolerant or misunderstood, family is family, friends are friends and at some point you learn to love them or risk living without them.

   May God be praised! Here’s to a Christian woman who lived well! May her memory be blessed.

Dusty Living

roses are red at least in the light
and only the ones that bleed from the night
their blooms bear beauty - divinely arrayed
the mist disappears and the rose petals fade
though cycles and life-lines reel round and round
and dust to dust journeys return men to the ground


Here, in the moment the whispers today
still and small noises we'll hear on the way
the reeling may burden and break a mans back
but ours have been steadied and risen from black
The journey in beauty from blood red to grace
the time tested drama in this faith to faith race


A good thing is found in a good friend's embrace
a better thing won best face to face
the eye to eye vision reflecting the soul
the man in the mirror will be resurrected and whole 
this moments exchange soon gone with the wind 
is better resolved in the love of a friend 

Arad, Jonas, and Jerusalem

Last Tuesday afternoon I traveled down to Arad, volunteering at the Olive Branch. As usual the ride to through the territories is an adventure to say the least. Passport in hand and pedal to the metal, we arrived without incident about an hour an hour later. I was given the evening and the morning of the next day to work on my thesis and then I met up with my Director for lunch. He had the volunteers over and I learned more about the kinds of people that are attracted to his compassion-institution.

After lunch he took Jonas and me to the Bedouin village where we met Muhammad, the principal of the school. Then he took me to the Laundromat and set me up with a few tools and supplies. He had a washer with a loose front panel. I took his only flat-head screwdriver into the hardware store on my way to pick-up bolts and nuts and the receptionist asked what I was doing with a dentist tool... Use what you have, I suppose. I finished up and made my way back to the shelter just in time to finish up a few chores before packing.

Thursday morning, we headed back to Jerusalem and my director asked me to take one of his volunteers around. After grabbing a bite to eat at school and showing Jonas the gardens, we started out in front of the school where I gave him a lecture on the main geographical features in Jerusalem and how its Hills and Valleys are connected with the world around it. This also included a brief sketch on the major happenings in the biblical world. We then went up to the summit of the Western Hill atop the, so called, tomb of David. The room of the Last Supper is venerated in this location and we climbed to the roof in order to look toward the east. Here, I introduced many horizon markers, which helped to orient the rest of the trip. There we had a chat about overlapping Jewish, Christian, and Islamic traditions and land-claims, etc.

Then we went inside and read a few stories from the Gospels thinking about Jesus' interaction with the Disciples in the "Upper-room". After this we made our way to the city of David noting important views and features along the way: Zion gate, Nea tower overlook, etc. The city of David is a fantastic site full of regalia and legacy. The view from the overlook atop the Cinema at the City of David park sets a context that fits Ps 121 so well: "I look to the hills where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord!" The encircling mountains and the compact city both stand as a witness to the sentiments alive in the early inhabitants of this ancient city!

We talked quite a lot about the significance of Jerusalem in the Hebrew Bible and in the New Testament making sense of why David chose to conquer, etc. Then we went through the so called Palace area down through area G. There I made quite a number of comments regarding Jerusalem's last stand against Nebuchadnezzar and the living context alive and well in periods before this e.g. Ahiel's four room house. We moved into the Water system and talked quite a lot about the represented MB and Iron Age periods. Then we walked through the tunnel down to the Siloam pool. I had heard the night before that the Herodian drainage line had been made accessible all the way up to the Davidson Archaeological park. So after a word about John's record of Jesus healing the man born blind in John 9, we made our way through the ancient refuse shaft up to the "pinnacle of the temple" or if you prefer the southwest corner of the Temple mount. Here, I retraced a bit and talked/ made sense of Herod's coming into power and then we talked about the features that you can see exposed by Benjamin Mazar's dig: the agora over the Cardio Valencias, the place of the trumpeter etc. We made our way around to the southern stairs and talked a bit about ritual-purity laws/ the institutionalization of cleanliness laws in the second temple period... all that is required to enter the sacred precincts on top of the Temple Mount. We talked about teachings and teachers found on these steps in the first century: what they said and why - interfacing the geographical/ archaeological witness with texts that we have on these things. 

Then we went for lunch and made our way to St. Anne's for a chat on Asclepion and Jesus - John's record of Jesus' healing of the lame man and the dialog that followed. Then we traveled back to the Western Wall esplanade, then to the Holy Sepulchral where we chatted briefly about the second Wall and its significance in the discussion of the validity of the Holy Sep. as the site of Jesus' death and burial and resurrection. There are so many more things I would like to tell you about our time together in Jerusalem but I don't have the time. 

All in all, I Jonas had a good time and we both learned a lot from each other. I am confident that our love for the God grew. It did as we reflected time and again on Gods involvement with a city and a people within  particular historical setting in the face of Jesus.

Soli Deo Gloria

Photos from the trip

Run in with Shimon Gibson and the Albrights

On my way to the post office, I ran into a tour led by Shimon Gibson. Riding past the Western course of the 16th century Old City wall, I caught a waving hand out of the corner of my eye. Debbie and Kyle, friends from various archaeological projects, were touring with Dr. Gibson. He was lecturing on the finds and features within and under the wall just north of the Ayyubid tower at the southwestern corner of the Old City. Shimon Gibson was the editor of The Illustrated Dictionary & Concordance of the Bible. He also wrote in The Final Days of Jesus: The Archaeological Evidence and Shimon led the team that found the 10-line ritual cup on Mt Zion.

To find out more info

Majrasa, Sea of Galilee Belvoir and Tiberias

Sunday, the campus cleared out heading north for Campus appreciation day. The long track up to the Bethsaida wadi, proved to be a useful sleep-catcher for most students. Once at Majrasa, we were told (most probably because they were told) that we needed a good 3 hours at the site. Everyone was able to walk up and down the Jordan tributary within the reserve in about 20 min. Providing the group with an opportunity to study for Monday's exam or to throw stones at stones (the new game invented by the undergrads). After a bit of wading and waiting around, we decided to add a stop at the Galilee to our trip. We stopped at a water-park(not for the water-park) to access the lake front from their property. Just south of Tel Hadar a number of us took the opportunity to visit to see what has made it so uninteresting to so many travelers. We found the remains of an Iron Age building and wall. We stuck around until 2 p.m. and then headed for the Crusader castle of Belvoir. It was a construction put up in the mid 12th century by the Hospitallers only to be taken in 1197 by Saladin's Islamic Reich. The good view of Belvoir makes it a worthwhile stop. An ice-cream treat put people in pretty good straights for the trip home. Two days later, on the heels of a scene full of unfortunate events, I found myself busing up to Tiberias. Its the first time I have taken my bike with me on the bus. It proved to be a really enjoyable trip. Though the trip took a lot longer than I remember, my trip to Hamat Tiberias was only interrupted by a stop at Tel Tiberias just north of the Synagogues. I met with the lonely park ranger, had a few dates and guavas, walked around a bit, took some pictures and then made my way back to town. I stopped inside the 18th century city walls inside Tiberias and learned they were destroyed by a flood in the early half of the 20th century. I was reminded again just how easy it is to project exact images onto biblical landscapes dressing the biblical narrative in a way that is suited by the modern lay of things. Its more complicated than this!

Blessings... enjoy the pictures at http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.629768702724.2115721.141303260&type=1

Jerusalem and Arad

"The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field" (Luke 10:2).

Since Fall of 09, I have been living in Jerusalem, Israel and I have been working on my Masters Degree at Jerusalem University College. I just handed in my final project and am now focusing my energies on my Thesis, which I hope to get done by the end of the semester. The scene in Jerusalem is full of progress and sureties in question. The new light rail is up running through the center of town as more and more tourists and potential citizens flood its streets hoping to make sense of their love of this historic city. The September UN-vote - anticipating the formation of a Palestinian state - continues a long-standing drama centered around land-rights here; hence, the "progress" and tension.

I am also working for the school. I have worked myself into an Assistantship under our Campus Manager for which I am chiefly responsible for the grounds and gardens on campus. Even though the pay is meager, it has been a lot of fun working the gardens, especially because so much of the work has a correlative in the biblical text. We are on the front end of pomegranate and almond season, our roses are in full bloom and the grapes have been enjoyed already by the new group of students who arrived last week. All kinds of biblical images can be seen and thought about from a walk through our garden from the pomegranates, almonds, and figs, to the olives, netzers and (poppies) "lilies of the field".

I have been here for almost 2 years and I feel as if I am only beginning to understand how needy and spiritually interested Israel travelers are. I volunteer on the weekends in Arad at a beautiful ministry called the Olive Branch Institute. They have a number of engaging compassion-ministries including orphan care, single mothers programs, English classes, Bedouin integration. Most of my students are Sudanese refugees who came to Israel by foot having fled violence in their home-land and seeking a refuge in Israel (finding refuge in Israel - ring any bells?). Its has been a wonderful experience for me. God knows that this kind of ministry is very near to my heart - engaging people where they are! Your prayerful support is extremely important to me as I look to follow where the Lord leads.

C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves (1960; Harcourt: 1988) 21-22.

Nature ‘dies on’ those who try to live for a love of nature. Coleridge ended by being insensible to her; Wordsworth, by lamenting that the glory had passed away. Say your prayers in a garden early, ignoring steadfastly the dew, the birds and the flowers, and you will come away overwhelmed by its freshness and joy; go there in order to be overwhelmed and, after a certain age, nine times out of ten nothing will happen to you.

We look back on history and what do we see? Empires rising and falling, revolutions and counter-revolutions, wealth accumulating and wealth dispersed, one nation dominant and then another. Shakespeare speaks of 'the rise and fall of great ones that ebb and flow with the moon.' In one lifetime I have seen my own fellow countrymen ruling over a quarter of the world, the great majority of them convinced, in the words of what is still a favorite song, that, 'God who's made the mighty would make them mightier yet.' I've heard a crazed, cracked Austrian proclaim to the world the establishment of a German Reich that would last a thousand years; an Italian clown announce that he would restart the calendar to begin his own assumption of power. I've heard a murderous Georgian brigand in the Kremlin acclaimed by the intellectual elite of the world as a wiser than Solomon, more enlightened than Ashoka, more humane than Marcus Aurelius. I've seen America wealthier and in terms of weaponry, more powerful than the rest of the world put together, so that Americans, had they so wished, could have outdone an Alexander or a Julius Caesar in the range-scale of their conquests. All in one little lifetime. All gone with the wind… Behind the debris of our self-styled, sullen supermen, there stands the gigantic figure of one person, because of whom, by whom, in whom, and through whom alone mankind might still have hope. The person of Jesus Christ.

~Malcolm Muggeridge

musings

Think you will find this interesting... I left a note on my facebook wall about a tour I was invited to go on with a number of Albright Fellows to the City of David archeological park led by the director of the excavation, Prof. Ronni Reich. He took us into areas that have not been opened to the public: the floor of the rock-cut pool, the entrance of the Siloam tunnel, and Parker's breach in the northern wall of the MB tower. It was a lot of fun. I could give more details but the story I mean to tell is more particular in scope. It involves the Director, the Fellows, me and a green coin.

Extending down-slope from the park entrance in Kenyon's section or area A, Ronni was shooting the breeze about the drama surrounding excavations in the City of David, past and present, this toward the end of our morning tour. As I was judiciously penning bits of data I thought note-worthy, I looked down from my notepad and, lo and behold, a green round edge. I knew immediately that I have found a coin but I didn't quite know how to break the news. After all, I was standing next to a world-renown archeologist surrounded by Fellows from the Albright. What would you do?

Discreetly, I exposed more of the coin with my toe, took a deep breath and picked it up. Then I waited for a pause in Ronnie's closing thoughts, nudged his arm, and handed him the coin. "Ah, you have found a coin..." he said. He bent down and grabbed a potsherd and began to scrap off the dirt. He continued to answer questions on the site while he played with the coin only to interrupt himself with comments about how these things are found all over the city promising that he would give it to me. Turns out, he was able to distinguish AUG for Augustus. And, while its true that these are common all over the city, they aren't common in the City of David. He kept it for the IAA...Such is life, funny what you find when you least expect it.

“The Knowledge of the Holy.” pg 79 -80

“I think it might be demonstrated that almost every heresy that has afflicted the church through the years has arisen from believing about God things that are not true, or from overemphasizing certain true things so as to obscure other things equally true. To magnify any attribute to the exclusion of another is to head straight for one of the dismal swamps of theology; and yet we are all constantly tempted to do just that.

For instance, the Bible teaches that God is love; some have interpreted this in such a way as virtually to deny that He is just, which the Bible also teaches. Others press the Biblical doctrine of God’s goodness so far that it is made to contradict His holiness. Or they make His compassion cancel out His truth. Still others understand that sovereignty of God in a way that destroys or at least greatly diminishes His goodness and love.

We can hold a correct view of truth only by daring to believe everything God has said about Himself. It is a grave responsibility that a man takes upon himself when he seeks to edit out of God’s self-revelation such features as he in his ignorance deems objectionable. Blindness in part must surely fall upon any of us presumptuous enough to attempt such a thing. And it is wholly uncalled for. We need not fear to let the truth stand as it is written. There is no conflict among the divine attributes. God’s being is unitary. He cannot divide Himself and act at a given time from one of His attributes while the rest remain inactive. All that God is must accord with all that God does. Justice must be present in mercy, and love in judgement. And so will all the divine attributes.“
~ A. W. Tozer

Anson Rainey (11 January, 1930 - 19 February, 2011)

"I have just been informed that Professor Anson Rainey passed away today, after a blessedly short battle with pancreal cancer. Details about the funeral arrangements are not yet available.

Barukh Dayan Emet.

Yigal

Dr. Yigal Levin

May he rest in peace."

It all happened so suddenly...
Sometime toward the middle of January he went into the hospital because he had intestinal discomfort, turns out the doctors diagnosed him with cancer of the pancreas. Anson Rainey passed away early yesterday afternoon. The funeral will be held at the cemetery in Barkan at 12 pm today (Sunday, Feb. 20)


A biography can be viewed at his Tel Aviv University webpage.

May his memory be a blessing!

Valentine's day musings

No Valentines day parades. No unexpected cupid-ized, naked baby pictures. In Jerusalem its a foreign holiday; enough to post up a greeting or two, but nothing to write home about... I got a candy bar and a hologram; a letter and an email. These are simple and sweet ways that affection is conveyed from one person to another. Its meaningful and good. The whole holiday motion triggered a chain of responses in me that I am trying to process... I hope its worth sharing.
As it turns out that this holiday sweeps the western world off its feet because it... love's well? with exemplar style? hosting unequivocal love savvy? Hmmm... I mean no disrespect, after all I am a part of that lineage and I am very thankful for it, but seriously... There seems to be some kind of elaborate disconnect, no? I mean, it is not as if we don't feel deeply connected with people. It is not as if those connections are not authentic. It just seems that along with our short attention spans comes a pathetic kind of resolve. How is it that our statistics prove that our stereotypical Hollywood fantasies turn romance into nightmares? This is sad. The stat on divorce and its blemish on the western world is a characterizing statement for us, is it not? It seems to me that it is now part of our narrative. So many of our loved ones have been exposed to it, caught up in it, and part of it in some way or another. It runs deep. Perhaps this is indicative of our own working definitions. Perhaps commitment or the old definition of it has lost its appeal: too many complications, too many heart breaks, too many crimes, too many mothers with unmotivated husbands, too many husbands with self-centered wives, too much egotism, too much cruelty. Perhaps, the tragic results of commitments made-and-broken seem worse than commitments unmade lobbing us into a catch 22 that burns on both edges. If my judgments ring true with anyone, it seems we have found ourselves in a desperate condition. Do we dare admit it: admit that we do not have a clue what love is.
Recite your favorite love song and tell me that it provides a profound alternative to the present and living definition expressed in our own context. 9 out of 10 songs rage against a machine toe-tapping to another tripped up excuse to sleep around. Its shameful. Really really shameful. Perhaps I am angst ridden, but these observations are justifiable...That is what is so blasted scary about our own prospective futures, committing and hoping your partner commits just the same.
I presume that we all do have some examples that test the current drama and re-run. And I'd like to think that whether or not they know it, true and enduring affection has a prevailing center pent up in one principle: reconciliation. A Dr. James Grier spoke at Cedarville University and suggested that reconciliation stands as a bulwark and breakwater against conflict. And don't misunderstand, his efforts were to place Christ at the center of our purview, such that reconciliation would be seen as impossible without Him in the life of church and in the life of marriage. Christ's meritorious life and death and resurrection mark the epicenter and its effects are seen in fragmented shadows and types all over: rain-fall, morning sunshine, sparrows singing, and lilies of the field; not least, relationships that enduring through terrible loss, and marriages that survive in-spite of sin. While I have seen very few marriages so motivated by their debt of gratitude for God and his electing grace and for the love of God expressed in Christ and his accomplishments, they are wildly attractive. They are attractive for their resolve and their ability to forgive quickly... They are wonderfully simplistic and virile... and so contra-normal... Would to God that our relationships would be revived, cast this kind of caricature and give a turn of face to the current melodrama of Valentine's day!

Betty May Zirkle Hague

FLETCHER - Betty M. Hague, 84, of Fletcher, passed away in her residence at 11:13 a.m. Friday, Jan. 14, 2011.

Betty was born Jan. 16, 1926, in Miami County, a daughter of the late John R. and Elsie May (Martin) Zirkle.

She married Ernest Hague on Jan. 18, 1946, and he survives.

Together they raised two sons, Keith (Maxine) Hague of Cedarville and Richard Hague of Fletcher. She is survived by six grandchildren, Keith, Samuel, Caleb, Joseph, Seth and Grace Hague; and four great-grandchildren; a sister, Jean Zirkle of Richmond, Ind., also survives.

In addition to her parents, she was preceded in death by three brothers, Charlie, Carl and Tillman Zirkle; and a sister, Ann Johnston.

http://www.tdn-net.com/main.asp?SectionID=12&SubSectionID=13&ArticleID=112460&TM=23229.36

"Preach to yourself' by D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones

"Have you realized that most ofyour unhappiness in life is due to the fact

that you are listening to yourself instead oftalking to yourself? Take those thoughts that come to you the moment you wake up in the morning. You have not originated them, but they start talking to you, they bring back the problems ofyesterday, etc.

Somebody is talking. Who is talking? Your self is talking to you. Now this

man's (the writer ofPsalm 42) treatment was this; instead of allowing this selfto talk to him, he starts talking to himself. 'Why art thou cast down, 0 my soul?' he asks. His soul had been depressing him, crushing him. So he stands up and says: 'Self, listen for a moment, I will speak to you.' ...

The main art in the matter of spiritual living is to know how to handle yourself. You have to take yourself in hand, you have to address yourself, preach to yourself, question yourself. You must say to your soul: 'Why art thou cast down' -what business have you to be disquieted?

You must tum on yourself, upbraid yourself, condemn yourself, exhort yourself, and say to yourself: 'Hope thou in God' -instead of muttering in this depressed, unhappy way. And then you must go on to remind yourself of God, Who God is, and what God is and what God has done, and what God has pledged Himself to do.

Then having done that, end on this great note: defy yourself, and defy other people, and defy the devil and the whole world, and say with this man: 'I shall yet praise Him for the help of His countenance, who is also the health of my countenance and my God.'"

-D. Martyn lloyd-Jones,

Dahab

A bit of travel was in order. We had spent ourselves, slaving over finals and then campus responsibilities that we had barely left campus: stuck inside the confines of our our gates and bars, as it were. The hub-bub and excitement of the vacation-potential buried us in a general kind of apprehension as we planned to take a trip to Dahab, Egypt. Dahab is a coastal city half way down the eastern coast of the Sinai peninsula. Planning was delayed and delayed and it wasn't until the Eilat bus tickets were purchased that I found myself wanting to sit this “vacation” out. I have never really spent much time thinking about what vacations are or aren't because I had not spent a lot of time vacationing. In any case there was too little time to back out. These are my musings on our 6 day trip to Egypt.

Before we left I had to make sure the campus was ready for the Wright's return (our directors went to America for Christmas) and that my bag was packed. I had far too much to do and ran out of time. I was throwing things into my bag as we exited campus, hopeful that we would have everything we needed once we found shelter on the shore of the Sinai.

Our bus to the Jerusalem station was especially nice, a quick 10 minute ride early Christmas-eve morning, Emily and I usually walk. The bus to Eilat was on time and boarding was a breeze. The ride was a little hard on our stomachs due to lack of sleep and food e.g. Emily's sudden need for a trash can. Four and a half hours later we were in Eilat. We took a cab from the Eilat bus station to the boarder and then after crossing into Egypt, we took a bus southwards to Dahab without too much hassle (the Israeli taxi driver's musings on the modern shark crisis and the Taba Hilton bombing were a bit ironic, but so it was).

Rachel's dad had a booking for us in a Hilton and the resort was elegant and beautiful: the grass thick and the service friendly. After the exertion of a bit of dramatic energy, we settled and went for a walk on the shore of the gulf of Aqaba. The views were striking and impressive. Our entire horizon played on the juxtaposition of mountain and shoreline. The rise of the Saudi Arabian ranges sat behind the wash of strange blues and greens coloring the surface of the deep. The gulf of Aqaba carries a Bedouin history and one that has bearing on Israel's own movement through the Sinai. Would they have seen a sight like this? Would it have been as impressive? Was there opportunity here for them?

After a little hike we decided to find dinner. We took a taxi into Assalah and found ourselves questioning the sanitary conditions of the Bedouins here. It seemed prudent to walk back toward the more familiar and start with the known before venturing too far into the land of the unknowns. We found the board walk. It was gimmicky for sure, though there was an aura of brightness and color to the whole feel. Every vendor took us as a potential customer. The appearance of kindness was at least fun. We played with them and realized that we could talk our way into a relatively good thing. After having walked halfway down we gave in to the pleads of “come into my restaurant, give me just this one chance to serve you.” The meal came with a free appetizer, desert, shisha and a 30 percent discount. We had heard things in Dahab were more toward our pathetic budgets, but we didn't think it would be this easy. The dinner was spot-on. We decided to watch a movie to celebrate Christmas eve, so we fell asleep to Baby Mama on my laptop. Perhaps we really just needed a distraction. Christmas isn't the same alone.

The next morning, Christmas morning, we knew that we had until noon to get things organized and check out. We went for a morning swim in the Red Sea and then got ready for brunch. After an amazing brunch at the Hilton we made our way into Mashraba, a district of Dahab on the shore. After a bit of discussion with Hawash on the current shark news and the general Egyptian thought about Israel, we found a place to stay that cost each of us around 10 Egyptian pounds or $2.50 American a night. Assama, at the Auski camp, treated us really well offering us towels, more blankets and pillows. The pretense of security was a little unsettling: the latch of the door was pinned with a couple of nails which we could lock shut with a miniature pad-lock. We were more cautious the first day and then realized things were pretty laid back.

We met up for a walk once our things were put away and tried our limited Arabic with marketers and vendors as we passed. We settled on a place for dinner and celebrated Christmas as we ate. We read the Christmas story back at the dorm and then went to bed. I laid awake thinking about our own Christmas traditions: Dad's reading, sibling tension and family drama's all that contribute to the tastes and smells of Christmas for me. It's all very endearing.

The next morning we decided to go for a walk southward toward what is called the Three Islands, a coral reef south of Mashraba. It is important to remember your snorkel gear if you plan a trip to Dahab. The enticing rift table will eventually lure any tourist courageous enough to try.

We walked a bit past the reef and found a spot on the beach. I had some homework I tried to get through. I listened to a lecture under the drape of my blowing Kafia (Arab head-dress) while Emily laid in the sun. Todd and Rachel were the first to venture out into the water to snorkel. They introduced it to me. I mean, I knew the basics but I had only played around with some shotty gear in our above ground 24X4 pool. Honestly, I have a general aversion to water, especially big bodies of it. Its like I cannot get the ideal of “big fish, little guy” out of my head. So I passed on the first day of snorkeling though Todd and Rachel came back with some fantastic stories about the fish and all.

The next day I asked Todd to take me out and he walked me through the basics. Our gear wasn't of the greatest quality but we managed alright. Timid and a bit nervous I bellied in for a swim out to Island one. At first the water was quite shallow and I felt rather vulnerable. The what ifs, though irrational, came flooding to mind mind like a nightmare. I could see weeds and black worms: unnerving, that's all. It always gets worse before it gets better, doesn't it? The ground below us seemed to grow more porous and more creatures came into view. The strange mix of fear and awe triggered an adrenaline rush in me. The drone of my heavy breathing and sudden movements apparently worried Todd a bit. Here and there I would scream through my snorkel shocked by the kinds and colors of fish and coral. The reefs holes turned into vertical caves and then... nothing: small dots in the distance disguised by this eerie unending blue - the reef drop-off (that's what they call it in Nemo). My palms would have been sweating had I not been submerged and my heart raced as I edged toward the precipice. Its like having the opportunity to float out over the edge of the Grand Canyon at dusk in the Jurrasic period (big birds). Would you do it? The whole experience was filled with powerful images full of natural splendor pent up with creative force. The further around the Island we went the more we could see. It was literally breathtaking.

The days went by quickly after Christmas and we found different ways to keep ourselves preoccupied so that we wouldn't think too desperately long about how much we wished we were with family for the holidays. We had a little ice-cream party two nights later, the night we watched Finding Nemo. One of the last days, Emily and I went for a walk and found a little pasta place that served a nice local Egyptian dish for 5 pounds. It was really nice: three pasta, bean and spices. What more could you ask for?

The last night I had planned to take Emily out on a date to an Indian place on the shore. On our way to the restaurant, the skies opened and ruined (or fixed... to not) our plans to sit under the stars in Dahab's one-rain-a-year-rain (Cedarville ought to be known for its strange and peculiar weather patterns and I miss the the sudden summer rains. It reminded me of home). We walked in the down pour for a little bit and stumbled into a nice, hole-in-the-wall place flooded with people. We found a cozy spot in the corner next to the fire and had a nice meal.

We made our way back to the Auski camp only to find the entire floor pooling with rain water. Funny how the unexpected can make or break a mood. The ceilings were dripping with it and the beds were soaking it in. We separated our wet and dry belongings and tried to make sense out of how we were going to get some sleep. We rearranged our stuff and the beds so that the major dripping would fall onto the floor. Then we flipped the mattresses and tried to get so sleep.

We had made plans to wake up early and snorkel, which apparently were foiled by the drama of the unexpected. We managed to run out to the beach for one last dive and look at the reef before we needed to leave. After a warm shower and some last minute packing we found ourselves on a bus headed for Israel.

With the trip over, we began to feel like Egypt had followed us back to Israel. We had purchased falafals for breakfast and lunch (12 of them - 3 each), taking them with us on our buses, naturally. The bus trip back was pleasant and relatively stress free. By afternoon the next day, we knew that the paradigm “feel awful” for falafal was at least believable. We were stricken with a kind of diarrhea that only left us with enough strength to get to the bathroom and back. Indigestion and cramping worsened before it cycled out.

In spite of all this, the trip turned out to be a nice break from our duties: refreshing and good. The time away gave me time to think about how I use my time and how important it is to redeem it. Too little is left in life and so goes the drama of living.