The inexorable moustache.
I have noted, lately, that I am being asked less often now when I can expect to no longer be a minor. Apparently, I appear to be in the vicinity of 15-17. Perhaps because most of the people assuming so are in their last decade or two of life, and any young adult (which is merely a statement of my actual age, not of that which I act) seems nearly infantile to them. The reason for the cessation of inquisitiveness is, I presume, is the fact that I have, for the past two and one half weeks, been sporting my 'too lazy and stressed to shave my face' look. I fear I am actually finding a need for that moustache cup that was bestowed upon me by my grandmother a few years ago. It is a bally nuisance to find that one cannot sip from one's drinking vessel without finding its contents adorning one's upper lip. I do not believe that I shall ever understand why some chaps prefer the facial hair. My only reasonable guess is that they find the bother of employing the razor to outweigh the burden of wearing a thicket on their complexion. My dad, however, has had a perfectly situated moustache for over 40 years. I believe it has, once it was established, never left him. Baffling, that such care would be given to one's face. I do not find myself lazy in general matters of hygeine, but certainly I do in this one.
I look beyond the empty cross
forgetting what my life has cost
and wipe away the crimson stains
and dull the nails that still remain
More and more I need you now,
I owe you more each passing hour
the battle between grace and pride
I gave up not so long ago
So steal my heart and take the pain
and wash the feet and cleanse my pride
take the selfish, take the weak,
and all the things I cannot hide
take the beauty, take my tears
the sin-soaked heart and make it yours
take my world all apart
take it now, take it now
and serve the ones that I despise
speak the words I can't deny
watch the world I used to love
fall to dust and thrown away
I look beyond the empty cross
forgetting what my life has cost
so wipe away the crimson stains
and dull the nails that still remain
so steal my heart and take the pain
take the selfish, take the weak
and all the things I cannot hide
take the beauty, take my tears
take my world apart, take my world apart
I pray, I pray, I pray
take my world apart
To love you - take my world apart
To need you - I am on my knees
To love you - take my world apart
To need you - broken on my knees
-Jars of Clay
I saw shattered lives last weekend. It was not the first time, but it brought a fresh consideration of the state of mine own. I recognised my fragmentedly set heart, but I supposed there was little actually standing between myself and following the Lord. Something, perhaps, but not only a simple matter or two, what? I prayed and I searched, though, and as I did so I began to half absently keep track of the number of disgraces to Christ I almost regularly have displayed for quite some time now. Perhaps a month, as the issue seems to have been following this semester quite closely. On my fingers I counted as I began to recognise more and more problems. In shame, I ran out of fingers, continued the tally by closing my hands and starting again, and nearly had all fingers extended again by the time I could find nothing more.
And the man of all sorrows, he never forgot
What sorrow is carried by the hearts that he bought
So when the questions dissolve into the silence of God
The aching may remain, but the breaking does not
The aching may remain, but the breaking does not
In the holy, lonesome echo of the silence of God
-Andrew Peterson
I look beyond the empty cross
forgetting what my life has cost
and wipe away the crimson stains
and dull the nails that still remain
More and more I need you now,
I owe you more each passing hour
the battle between grace and pride
I gave up not so long ago
So steal my heart and take the pain
and wash the feet and cleanse my pride
take the selfish, take the weak,
and all the things I cannot hide
take the beauty, take my tears
the sin-soaked heart and make it yours
take my world all apart
take it now, take it now
and serve the ones that I despise
speak the words I can't deny
watch the world I used to love
fall to dust and thrown away
I look beyond the empty cross
forgetting what my life has cost
so wipe away the crimson stains
and dull the nails that still remain
so steal my heart and take the pain
take the selfish, take the weak
and all the things I cannot hide
take the beauty, take my tears
take my world apart, take my world apart
I pray, I pray, I pray
take my world apart
To love you - take my world apart
To need you - I am on my knees
To love you - take my world apart
To need you - broken on my knees
-Jars of Clay
I saw shattered lives last weekend. It was not the first time, but it brought a fresh consideration of the state of mine own. I recognised my fragmentedly set heart, but I supposed there was little actually standing between myself and following the Lord. Something, perhaps, but not only a simple matter or two, what? I prayed and I searched, though, and as I did so I began to half absently keep track of the number of disgraces to Christ I almost regularly have displayed for quite some time now. Perhaps a month, as the issue seems to have been following this semester quite closely. On my fingers I counted as I began to recognise more and more problems. In shame, I ran out of fingers, continued the tally by closing my hands and starting again, and nearly had all fingers extended again by the time I could find nothing more.
And the man of all sorrows, he never forgot
What sorrow is carried by the hearts that he bought
So when the questions dissolve into the silence of God
The aching may remain, but the breaking does not
The aching may remain, but the breaking does not
In the holy, lonesome echo of the silence of God
-Andrew Peterson