“The result is that we no longer trust our memories.”
“It strikes me that the current fetishization of analog technology has less to do with nostalgia than it does with the urge to slow down the transfer of data from the internal to the external, from the individual to the collective, and to make it all less instant, less ephemeral, less interchangeable, and more tangible, more linear and more contextual.”
I thought there would be a grave beauty, a sunset splendour In being the last of one’s kind: a topmost moment as one watched The huge wave curving over Atlantis, the shrouded barge Turning away with wounded Arthur, or Ilium burning. Now I see that, all along, I was assuming a posterity Of gentle hearts: someone, however distant in the depths of time, Who could pick up our signal, who could understand a story. There won’t be.
Between the new Hembidae and us who are dying, already There rises a barrier across which no voice can ever carry, For devils are unmaking language. We must let that alone forever. Uproot your loves, one by one, with care, from the future, And trusting to no future, receive the massive thrust And surge of the many-dimensional timeless rays converging On this small, significant dew drop, the present that mirrors all.
Grant me, O Lord, to know what I ought to know,to love what I ought to love, to praise what delights Thee most, to value what is precious in Thy sight, to hate what is offensive to Thee. Do not suffer me to judge according to the sight of my eyes, nor to pass sentence according to the hearing of the ears of ignorant men; but to discern with a true judgment between things visible and spiritual, and above all, always to inquire what is the good pleasure of Thy will.
“I began to cry as never before, for a greater blessing from God. The hunger increased; I really felt that I did not want to live any longer. I kept on crying all the time that God would fill me with His Spirit. Well, one day in the City of New York — oh! what a day, I cannot describe it, I seldom refer to it. It is almost too sacred an experience to name. Paul had an experience of which he never spoke for fourteen years. I can only say, God revealed Himself to me, and I had such an experience of His love that I had to ask Him to stay His hand.”—
D. L. Moody
"It was so overwhelming, he felt as if he was going to be physically crushed. The love of God! That is what is meant by ‘the love of God shed abroad in your hearts’. That is the baptism of the Spirit. That is what turned D. L. Moody from a good, regular, ordinary minister, into the evangelist who was so signally used of God in this and in other countries."
The call of God is not a reflection of my nature; my personal desires and temperament are of no consideration. As long as I dwell on my own qualities and traits and think about what I am suited for, I will never hear the call of God. But when God brings me into the right relationship with Himself, I will be in the same condition Isaiah was. Isaiah was so attuned to God, because of the great crisis he had just endured, that the call of God penetrated his soul. The majority of us cannot hear anything but ourselves. And we cannot hear anything God says. But to be brought to the place where we can hear the call of God is to be profoundly changed.
“For every house is built by someone, but the builder of all things is God.”—
Take care, brothers, lest there be in any of you an evil, unbelieving heart, leading you to fall away from the living God. But exhort one another every day, as long as it is called “today,” that none of you may be hardened by the deceitfulness of sin.
somewhere, on an unnamed dirt road, a place most people would consider “the middle of nowhere”, you will find a her with a group of squealing little girls and boys, dancing, if you would be polite enough to call it that. maybe to avicii, justin beiber, lupe fiasco, or even a little gospel. (they…