Philippians 2:8

"Jesus is the great teacher of lowliness of heart. We need daily to learn of Him. See the Master taking a towel and washing His disciples’ feet! Follower of Christ, wilt thou not humble thyself? See Him as the Servant of servants, and surely thou canst not be proud! Is not this sentence the compendium of His biography, "He humbled Himself"? Was He not on earth always stripping off first one robe of honor and then another, till, naked He was fastened to the cross, and there did He not empty out His inmost self, pouring out His life-blood, giving up for all of us, till they laid Him penniless in a borrowed grave? How low was our dear Redeemer brought! How then can we proud?

Stand at the foot of the cross, and count the purple drops by which you have been cleansed; see the thorn-crown; mark His scourged shoulders, still gushing with encrimsoned rills; see hand and feet given up to the rough iron, and His whole self to mockery and scorn; see the bitterness and the pangs, and the throes of inward grief, showing themselves in His outward frame; hearing the thrilling shriek, “My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?” And if you do not lie prostrate on the ground before that cross, you have never seen it: if you are not humbled in the presence of Jesus, you do not know Him. You were so lost that nothing could save you but the sacrifice of God’s only begotten. 

Think of that, and as Jesus stooped for you, bow yourself in lowliness at His feet. A sense of Christ’s amazing love to us has a greater tendency to humble us than even a consciousness of our own guilt. May the Lord bring us in contemplation to Calvary, then our position will no longer be that of the pompous man of pride, but we shall take the humble place of the one who loves much because much as been forgiven him. Pride cannot live beneath the cross. Let us sit there and learn our lesson, then rise and carry it into practice. “

- C.H.S.

Thank you, Jesus Christ, for humbling Yourself to the lowest place on earth. Though You are God, You placed Yourself into the hands of a cruel and disobedient creation, to mock, mangle, and murder You. The sins of the entire world—from the past to the end of time—were heaped upon You, and You willingly drank the righteous cup of wrath of Your Father on my behalf. You beckoned us to come to Yourself, and invited us to eat and drink the food and water of life that we could never pay for. You cloaked us in Your righteousness, You placed on our fingers golden rings and fine clothing, and lovingly welcomed us as sons and daughters of the Creator Himself with an inheritance that can never perish, spoil, or fade. You give us Yourself. Spirit, You who rose the Son from the dead, came into us to breath new life into our dead souls, secure us to Christ, and loosen the bonds of sin that held us captive to darkness. You enabled us to see, and joyfully live in light of Your glorious mercy, grace, and love. Thank you so much! God, may you praised and glorified always! I love You.


Little by little I’m picking at C.S. Lewis’s Weight of Glory sermon, and I can’t help but enjoy this quote about the use of intellectual life in a Christian’s life. Not that I think I’m a very intellectual person, but I am a very curious person who likes to know things—sometimes for my benefit, and a lot of the times, not so much. Sometimes intellectualism is thrown to the extremes: either highly revered to the point of idolatry and hung up as a shiny badge that allows for condescension towards others, or it is thrown out of the chapel window because it is regarded as secular and the spiritual and intellectual should not be intermixed. Here is what Lewis says: 

"The intellectual life is not the only road to God, nor the safest, but we find it to be a road, and it may be the appointed road for us. Of course, it will be so only so long as we keep the impulse pure and disinterested. That is the great difficulty. As the author of the Theologia Germanica says, we may come to love knowledge—our knowing—more than the thing known: to delight not in the exercise of our talents but in the fact that they are ours, or even in the reputation they bring us. Every success in the scholar’s life increases this danger. If it becomes irresistible, he must give up his scholarly work. The time for plucking out the right eye has arrived.”

Yet, there is a place for an intellectual life. He continues on: 

"If all the world were Christian, it might not matter if all the world were uneducated. But, as it is, a cultural life will exist outside the Church whether it exists inside or not. To be ignorant and simple now—not be be able to meet the enemies on their own ground—would be to throw down our weapons, and to betray our uneducated brethren who have, under God, no defense but us against the intellectual attacks of the heathen. Good philosophy must exist, if for no other reason, because bad philosophy needs to be answered. The cool intellect must work not only against cool intellect on the other side, but against the muddy heathen mysticisms which deny intellect altogether.  Most of all, perhaps, we need intimate knowledge of the past. Not that the past has any magic about it, but because we cannot study the future, and yet need something to set against the present, to remind us that the basic assumptions have been quite different in different periods and that much of which seems certain to the uneducated is merely temporary fashion."

Fun stuff! All in all, knowledge can be used for good and bad. Let us be people that possess knowledge, not for being knowledgable’s sake, but rather, in order to lovingly, humbly, and graciously bless others. 


I was walking down the messy travel aisle at work today asking people if they needed any assistance when I ran into an older white couple wearing jeans and jean jackets. They asked if I could help them find a backpack that was sturdy enough for walking around China with their laptop—which is something they do because they live in China now. They hand me 3 different backpacks and ask me the differences among them. I point out a backpack. 

"Yes, this backpack will do. It has great support on the shoulders and back, and a nice built in neoprene sleeve for your computer." 

"Oh wonderful! I think we’ll take it. It helps that she likes the color! " He proceeds to wink at his wife. 

The wife asks me if I’ve ever heard of the poem about getting old and wearing purple. And I said no. She tells me to look it up. So I do. Here is the poem: 


When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people’s gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple. 

Jenny Joseph, 1961
Haha. I think that’s cute. 

Amazing that blind will spend so much of their time trying to lead the blind, telling them that all this beauty happened by chance, when they themselves intrinsically understand, the instance of phenomena breathtaking, incredible awesome; In their rebellious deliberate ignorance, they have no idea how much it will cost them. 

We are without excuse, unable to say,

Nothing made the sun rise today. 

By Your works, Your Creation declares You. 

Little by little we have gone astray, 

Falling for the treacherous tricks and meticulous marketing of the one who lurks in the shadows, waiting to pounce and steal seeds away. 

Our glorious purposes relegated to a demeaning rote routine, Short bursts of  many pursuits of false gold and decaying things. Only You can save us, Jesus. 



                That you were at the time separated from Christ

                Alienated from the commonwealth of Israel

                And strangers to the covenants of promise,

                                  Having no hope and without God in the world. 


                 Now in Christ Jesus you who were once far off

                 Have been brought near 

                                                          by the blood of Christ.

For He himself [no one else, or nothing more] is our peace,

Who has made us [the Church] both one

And has broken down in His flesh 

                                                    the dividing wall of hostility

                   By abolishing the law of commandments expressed in ordinances

                   That he might create in Himself

                                            One new man in place of two,

                                            So making peace, 

                          And might reconcile us both [Himself and us] to God

                                                               in one body [marriage]

                                                                       through the cross

                                                                                  thereby killing the hostility.

And he came and preached

            Peace to you who were far off

            And peace to those who were near. 


For through Him, we both have access in one Spirit to the Father. 



-Ephesians 2:12-18 


Spiritual maturity is not primarily measured by our sanctification, but in the measure of growth in our faith and dependence on God for all things. 


So far it’s been a year of taking science/mathy classes. God’s grace alone has gotten me through. For sure. 

Time for a breather, and back in I go. 


sfijsfosfso!!! 3 more weeks. ! ! ! 

Photo Set

note for self: for future reference 


Patricio Betteo

Source: theartofanimation