my stream of consciousness this week regarding stories

They say stories like that make a boy grow bold

Stories like that make a man walk straight...

I've been reading a little more, probably due to my extra snow days. Last month I finished a work of fiction that was compelling enough to stay in my thoughts for days after I finished the book. The book was allegorical, almost to Bunyan-like proportions, yet the plot line still had me on the edge of my seat.

I realized a few days later that in my mind I was starting to presuppose the author's beliefs. In other words, Author X believes things I don't; yet after this masterful allegory I was subconsciously beginning to assume her ideas were truth.

And then I thought to myself, how wise was Jesus to use stories to teach truth.

But then I thought, how unoriginal of me to have that thought, since every trendy pastor and philosopher wanna-be has been saying the same thing for a while now.

But it is true! Not in the sense of let's throw out propositional truth for 'localized narratives' (my 'I've-heard-one-sermon-about-philosophy-and-I'm-gonna-refer-to-it' sentence) but in the sense of 'let's communicate truth with stories.'

I think there was a difference in my ten-year old mind when faced with a moral dilemma and I could remember the fictional 'Johnny' returning extra change to the store clerk. Remembering a 'thou-shalt-not' was helpful; but remembering 'Johnny's' mental anguish while making his decision, and comparing it to my own, was even more helpful.

It's surprising the children's stories that come back to me. And speaking of children's stories, I have for the past year, been heralding (in my mind) folk tales as the champion which will restore appreciation for beauty to a overstimulated culture. I had a very 'old' first grade last year that was bored of my first grade games and songs. They were riveted by simple folk tales, though. I started telling Brer Rabbit stories because beauty and simplicity and attention span are more important than covering my curriculum. That is a different topic though, and hopefully I will uncover some evidence for this last thought soon.

For me this week, Chesterton's Father Brown, to relax when I'm done work. Hoping it won't turn me into a priest, though, or conversely, a criminal mastermind.

Awkward Sunsets

My family owns ten acres of open farmland, and we get to see great sunsets all the time. My mom will often see a sunset and start exclaiming about it and we consequently all have to get up from the dinner table to go look. We are pretty dutiful about it, we don't join in with her exclamations, and we are always ready to go back to the dinner table.

Now one of three things could be true about the slightly awkward moments that sunsets incur. Number one could be that none of us really have the sensitivity to enjoy the sunset. Number two could be that we do enjoy looking at the sunset but we are really hungry. Number three, though, (which is my best guess) deserves a little explanation.

I understand how my mom feels. I felt at an early age, although I didn't put it this way, that beauty hurts. I would look and look at the Appalachian mountains. But all along I didn't know how to describe those mountains. I didn't know how to tell someone else how I felt about them.

But that was just it. There is no way to describe mountains and sunsets, because God created them for us to look at with our eyes. Words are not for mountains and sunsets. Eyes are. (Music education plug here: words are not for music either, to quote one educator, "talking about music is like dancing about architecture.") The reason we feel awkward when Mom tells us to look at the sunset is because we are used to incessant talking, and there's nothing we can say when it comes to sunsets.

I want to praise God for all of the senses. I appreciate the visual arts, because they are "visual." I appreciate music that I can hear, and I appreciate words that I can speak and write. Praise the Lord for his "goodness to the children of men."

My blog name

I named this blog after a Rich Mullins song, "Such a Thing As Glory". One friend, the only other Rich Mullins aficionado in my life, says that I hated this song at first listen. And I probably did then (given the simplistic repetition in the bridge), but the second or third time the lyrics started to resonate with me.

There is such a thing as glory
And there are hints of it everywhere
And the hints are overwhelming
And its scent is in the air
It's more powerful than morning
Oh the morning can't compare
With such a thing as glory...

The whole idea reminded me of a thought introduced to me by my brother and developed by C.S. Lewis. C.S. Lewis takes the 'hint of heaven' idea much farther than anything like the traditional teleological argument and argues that our innate, sometimes undiscovered, and always unsatisfied longings are irrefutable evidence that we were made for 'another country.' (No doubt I will be blogging about Weight of Glory.)

At any rate, whether it is in the simple sense of talking about beauty and order, or whether I am bearing my secret desires for heaven, I want my blog to show "hints of glory". There is a heaven, and there is a Christ.

I have been and will be writing rudimentary or off-beat thoughts about aesthetics, theology, and educational theories; and my hints of glory will probably be culled from those realms of thought. If that doesn't grab anyone's interest that's ok - this blog is for me, to practice writing, and for my 8th grade music students, who are not going to read this but definitely don't need me to be pontificating on aesthetics in class. If I can get a little online fellowship from the blog that will be an added bonus.

While I'm on the topic though, two of my family members started blogs about the same time I did with the same goal - to show hints of glory - and are "doing it better." First, my sister-in-law Jenny explains her goals to create beauty through the small things in life here. My cousin Mary finds hints of glory in the small moments of every day. Visit her beautiful blog here.