and still He seeks the fellowship of His people and sends them both joy and sorrow to detach their hands from the things of this world, to attach those hands to Himself.
[j.i. packer]
1 year ago
Friday, September 25, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
tuesday goodness.
costly grace is the gospel which must be sought again and again, the gift which must be asked for, the door at which a man must knock.
such grace is costly because it calls us to follow, and it is grace because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ. it is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life. it is costly because it condemns sin, and grace because it justifies the sinner. above all, it is costly because it cost God the life of his Son: 'ye were bought at a price,' and what has cost God much cannot be cheap for us. above all, it is grace because God did not reckon his Son too dear a price to pay for our life, but delivered him up for us. costly grace is the Incarnation of God...
when we are called to follow Christ, we are summoned to an exclusive attachment to his person. the grace of his call bursts all the bonds of legalism. it is a gracious call, a gracious commandment. it transcends the difference between the law and the gospel. Christ calls, the disciple follows: that is grace and commandment in one. 'i will walk at liberty, for I seek thy commandments.'
discipleship without Jesus Christ is a way of our own choosing. it may be the ideal way. it may even lead to martyrdom, but it is devoid of all promise. Jesus will certainly reject it.
[dietrich bonhoeffer]
such grace is costly because it calls us to follow, and it is grace because it calls us to follow Jesus Christ. it is costly because it costs a man his life, and it is grace because it gives a man the only true life. it is costly because it condemns sin, and grace because it justifies the sinner. above all, it is costly because it cost God the life of his Son: 'ye were bought at a price,' and what has cost God much cannot be cheap for us. above all, it is grace because God did not reckon his Son too dear a price to pay for our life, but delivered him up for us. costly grace is the Incarnation of God...
when we are called to follow Christ, we are summoned to an exclusive attachment to his person. the grace of his call bursts all the bonds of legalism. it is a gracious call, a gracious commandment. it transcends the difference between the law and the gospel. Christ calls, the disciple follows: that is grace and commandment in one. 'i will walk at liberty, for I seek thy commandments.'
discipleship without Jesus Christ is a way of our own choosing. it may be the ideal way. it may even lead to martyrdom, but it is devoid of all promise. Jesus will certainly reject it.
[dietrich bonhoeffer]
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
He set his face.
On Sunday, we will celebrate Christ’s resurrection; on Friday, we will remember his death. Until then, I pray that my heart does not forget what happened before.
Luke tells us that “when the days drew near for him to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem.”
He set his face. Four words that changed history. For in that moment, once and for all, he chose death. He knew what he was doing and what awaited him. Indeed, he told the twelve: ”see, we are going up to Jerusalem, and everything that is written about the Son of Man will be accomplished. For he will be delivered over to the Gentiles and will be mocked and shamefully treated and spit upon. And after flogging him, they will kill him, and on the third day he will rise” (Luke 18:31-32).
He set his face. To certain death.
The events surrounding Jesus’ crucifixion were not a surprise to the Son of God; that Judas would betray him for money, that his own people would forsake him for criminals—it was all known to him. We cannot deceive ourselves into thinking that what took place some 2000 years ago was a matter of mere happen-stance or luck; He knew what was to come—He set his face towards it. He knew that his incarnation had lead to this moment—the moment he would physically show his children the depth of his love. His skin thrashed, his limbs nailed to a cross, the one who knew no sin became sin so that we, me, would know life.
And he chose it. He chose me. He redeemed me—a broken, sinful, twenty-three year old law student who gets overwhelmed by silly things like memos and outlines and case readings. He loves me, us—oh, that I might know this daily. That I might push aside the distractions of life to hear His call to me. Follow me, He whispers. Follow me, and I will show you life everlasting. Lord, let my every breath be hallelujah.
“come and listen,
Luke tells us that “when the days drew near for him to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem.”
He set his face. Four words that changed history. For in that moment, once and for all, he chose death. He knew what he was doing and what awaited him. Indeed, he told the twelve: ”see, we are going up to Jerusalem, and everything that is written about the Son of Man will be accomplished. For he will be delivered over to the Gentiles and will be mocked and shamefully treated and spit upon. And after flogging him, they will kill him, and on the third day he will rise” (Luke 18:31-32).
He set his face. To certain death.
The events surrounding Jesus’ crucifixion were not a surprise to the Son of God; that Judas would betray him for money, that his own people would forsake him for criminals—it was all known to him. We cannot deceive ourselves into thinking that what took place some 2000 years ago was a matter of mere happen-stance or luck; He knew what was to come—He set his face towards it. He knew that his incarnation had lead to this moment—the moment he would physically show his children the depth of his love. His skin thrashed, his limbs nailed to a cross, the one who knew no sin became sin so that we, me, would know life.
And he chose it. He chose me. He redeemed me—a broken, sinful, twenty-three year old law student who gets overwhelmed by silly things like memos and outlines and case readings. He loves me, us—oh, that I might know this daily. That I might push aside the distractions of life to hear His call to me. Follow me, He whispers. Follow me, and I will show you life everlasting. Lord, let my every breath be hallelujah.
“come and listen,
come to the water’s edge all you, who are thirsty, come.
let me tell you what He has done for me,
He has done for you,
He has done for us.
come and listen,
come and listen to what He has done.”
let me tell you what He has done for me,
He has done for you,
He has done for us.
come and listen,
come and listen to what He has done.”
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
ignored, but not forgotten.
Until last night, I had not walked on the main campus of UT in probably five months or so. And now, I'm sitting outside the business school, enjoying a beautiful Austin day, and taking in sights that I had seen nearly every day for the last four years--the PCL (though I think I only ventured in there once during my undergraduate career), the creepy statute outside the b-school, the UCC, the West Campus bus, business students in suits...it's strange. The law school is kind of its own monster--self-sufficient and outside the sphere of undergraduate students (except for those few who sneak in to the law library--and don't think we can't tell who you are--graphing calculators are a big tip-off :)). And so while I have been a student at UT for the last six months or so, I haven't taken a step anywhere on the campus except for those few that take me from the parking garage to the law school. Again, I reiterate, it's strange--it's strange to think that those four years passed by so quickly, that those people who were so much a part of this experience for me have left, and that I'm nearly done with my first year of law school. Woah! Time, where have you gone?
In any sense, this blog, like the UT main campus, has been much ignored by me. My apologies to those of you who actually read my ramblings--I will try to do better, but with finals coming up, I might have to defer until this summer...
In any sense, this blog, like the UT main campus, has been much ignored by me. My apologies to those of you who actually read my ramblings--I will try to do better, but with finals coming up, I might have to defer until this summer...
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
law school in a nutshell...or a couple of paragraphs.
My old roommate Kelsey gave me this funny book for my birthday called “Ivy Briefs: True Tales of a Neurotic Law Student.” It’s hilarious and gives a hugely accurate depiction of what being a law student is like. Here is one of my favorite passages which reflects my own experience:
“Elite law schools pride themselves on the fact that they instruct students on how to think like lawyers instead of teaching them the actual law that they need to know in order to be lawyers…professors make you figure [out the law] for yourself. They do this by employing the case method, where they force their students to read hundreds of judicial opinions during the course of the semester, somehow decipher what each case is saying, and then try to piece the rules extracted from each case together to understand how they work in unison to form an entire body of law. It’s not dissimilar to trying to work an eight hundred-piece jigsaw puzzle made up of only plain white pieces…
The professors know what [the cases] mean. But do they explain the meaning to the students? No. No, they don’t. Instead, they rely on a medieval torture device called the Socratic method…a process whereby venerated law professors reduce innocent law students to quivering heaps of jelly by questioning them relentlessly in front of a large class filled with their peers…the professor asks. You answer. He says, “but what about this? How do you reconcile your answer with this?” You dig deep within yourself and find a response. He then says, “okay, so how about we twist the facts of the case around, then how would you respond?” This process is then repeated ad nauseam until, at some point, the professor has backed you into a corner and proved that you are nothing but a monumental idiot.”
“Elite law schools pride themselves on the fact that they instruct students on how to think like lawyers instead of teaching them the actual law that they need to know in order to be lawyers…professors make you figure [out the law] for yourself. They do this by employing the case method, where they force their students to read hundreds of judicial opinions during the course of the semester, somehow decipher what each case is saying, and then try to piece the rules extracted from each case together to understand how they work in unison to form an entire body of law. It’s not dissimilar to trying to work an eight hundred-piece jigsaw puzzle made up of only plain white pieces…
The professors know what [the cases] mean. But do they explain the meaning to the students? No. No, they don’t. Instead, they rely on a medieval torture device called the Socratic method…a process whereby venerated law professors reduce innocent law students to quivering heaps of jelly by questioning them relentlessly in front of a large class filled with their peers…the professor asks. You answer. He says, “but what about this? How do you reconcile your answer with this?” You dig deep within yourself and find a response. He then says, “okay, so how about we twist the facts of the case around, then how would you respond?” This process is then repeated ad nauseam until, at some point, the professor has backed you into a corner and proved that you are nothing but a monumental idiot.”
16.67% Completed.
I made it.
Barely. I survived my first semester as a 1L in the twilight zone known as law school. And now, as I have to start earnestly thinking about buying books and doing my reading (yes, reading—which was assigned around the beginning of December, though we were yet to suffer through finals), I feel like my life is on pause while the rest of the world storms past me in fast forward.
It’s all so surreal; my roommate now works 60 hours a week at her job, my best friend is getting married in July, other friends are bringing new life into the world, and I’m stuck in a black hole of grad school, a place where adults pay hundreds of thousands of dollars to pretend to be college students again. So while Rachel tends to Ben Bernacke and Kara saves lives, I’m sitting in a lecture surfing Facebook or playing Tetris. I don’t work 40 hours a week or bring home a salary or raise children. Nope, I still live my life in semesters. I fill my brain with an unending amount of case law and study for finals and pretend to pay attention in class.
So it’s strange. It’s strange to feel like a kid though you’re about to turn 23 and your friends are off doing grown-up things like working and getting married and having kids of their own. But I made it. I survived the hellish experience known as being a 1L. I didn’t sleep, I read thousands of pages of court cases, I started drinking caffeine again, and I became a big fan of B minuses. I made it.
Uh, only 2.5 more years to go?
Barely. I survived my first semester as a 1L in the twilight zone known as law school. And now, as I have to start earnestly thinking about buying books and doing my reading (yes, reading—which was assigned around the beginning of December, though we were yet to suffer through finals), I feel like my life is on pause while the rest of the world storms past me in fast forward.
It’s all so surreal; my roommate now works 60 hours a week at her job, my best friend is getting married in July, other friends are bringing new life into the world, and I’m stuck in a black hole of grad school, a place where adults pay hundreds of thousands of dollars to pretend to be college students again. So while Rachel tends to Ben Bernacke and Kara saves lives, I’m sitting in a lecture surfing Facebook or playing Tetris. I don’t work 40 hours a week or bring home a salary or raise children. Nope, I still live my life in semesters. I fill my brain with an unending amount of case law and study for finals and pretend to pay attention in class.
So it’s strange. It’s strange to feel like a kid though you’re about to turn 23 and your friends are off doing grown-up things like working and getting married and having kids of their own. But I made it. I survived the hellish experience known as being a 1L. I didn’t sleep, I read thousands of pages of court cases, I started drinking caffeine again, and I became a big fan of B minuses. I made it.
Uh, only 2.5 more years to go?
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