Well I am back to school, to show my folks I’m not a fool. And my first week of class is in the books (technically–I only have two days of class). The return at first was a bit weird. My brain was struggling to remember old routines and whatnot. I felt at home,but it felt different, not quite the same. Something was out of place and I couldn’t quite place it (still can’t, to be honest, I guess it was just moving shock..?Is that real?). The classes I’m taking will prove to be a lot of reading. But after taking Hermeneutics I don’t feel too overwhelmed. But projects and assignments are always daunting. It’s somewhat comforting to think that I’m almost done since I’m only going for an A.A.
Now we must come to a real topic to sit on..you know,in order to make this more interesting. What shall I talk about? Should I talk about how over-read we are here at Boyce? Maybe some thoughts on education? Perhaps a satirical piece on the money-spending ways of Southern Seminary? Nay, I shan’t talk of these things. Why? ‘Cause I don’t want to get in trouble…yet. And I don’t feel like expounding on any of those things anyway..
In fact, at this point in the blog,it would be absolutely pointless to say anything substantial. But I will say this: sometimes it’s easy to think we are wise and are making smart decisions. We’re doing what “feels right” and it feels so good to have such power. But maybe we’re being fools. Maybe we need to stop and have some patience. Maybe we should be still for a while and let God speak. Maybe we should listen to others and condemn our pride. Maybe if we did we’d have less heartache…
Evening Star by Edgar Allen Poe
'Twas noontide of summer, And mid-time of night; And stars, in their orbits, Shone pale, thro' the light Of the brighter, cold moon, 'Mid planets her slaves, Herself in the Heavens, Her beam on the waves. I gazed awhile On her cold smile; Too cold- too cold for me- There pass'd, as a shroud, A fleecy cloud, And I turned away to thee, Proud Evening Star, In thy glory afar, And dearer thy beam shall be; For joy to my heart Is the proud part Thou bearest in Heaven at night, And more I admire Thy distant fire, Than that colder, lowly light. Taken from: http://www.poetryloverspage.com/poets/poe/poe_ind.html