This post is dedicated to Bobby Bowden, winningest coach in college football and a living legend.  30 years without a single losing season… even this year.

 

FSU 44, UCLA 27.  Questions anyone?

12-22-06

 

Waking at night, the silence consumes

Comforts the hurts and deadens the wounds

Listening still for the voice of my soul

But finding instead an emotionless hole

Left open to only despair.

But never, not only, no, not even now,

For I know that the answer has always been there.

 

It sees me each morning when the sun rises new,

When hope springs within, an old life turned into

A thing of rare beauty – of worth without price,

Whose choice then, that this heart should at once turn to ice?

For what I fear most at the dawn of the day,

Is that hope that once governed me, ere I was astray,

The knowledge that I must again turn away,

From the hand so freely stretched out.

 

Tears fall, and I wrestle alone with my doubts,

Where once there was faith, somehow found without

The price of that freedom, and starting to learn

Of sacrifice, dying – what it is to burn

Now do I see, now do I know

Consider the cost and find it so

That all that I have is nothing at all

My knowledge, my confidence – plaques on the wall

Of my arrogance, envy, and hypocrisy,

Cover my face to pretend I’m not me,

Where now is the pride I embraced?

 

Forsaken, not I, but the void I’ve become

By choices abundant – not many, but one

One here and one there; opportunities passed

‘til ever, and even, the dread choice at last

Holds no choosing at all, for what’s left, as you see

Is traces of nothing – the choice that is me.

 

Waking at night, the silence consumes

But now find I solace in its thickening fumes

And bask in its shade – as one in a tomb

And here in this moment, the difference know I,

Between dying to live, and living to die.

 

……………………………..

Whoa.  Only at this time in the night can my self analysis fall into rhyme.  The universe is so crystal clear at times like this; I have to take advantage while the vision lasts.  And don’t laugh – Dr. Hake would be proud.

Today is gonna be the day
That they’re gonna throw it back to you
By now you should’ve somehow
Realized what you gotta do
I don’t believe that anybody
Feels the way I do about you now

Backbeat, the word is on the street
That the fire in your heart is out
I’m sure you’ve heard it all before
But you never really had a doubt
I don’t believe that anybody
Feels the way I do about you now

And all the roads we have to walk are winding
And all the lights that lead us there are blinding
There are many things that I would
Like to say to you
But I don’t know how

Because maybe
You’re gonna be the one that saves me
And after all
You’re my wonderwall

Today was gonna be the day
But they’ll never throw it back to you
By now you should’ve somehow
Realized what you’re not to do
I don’t believe that anybody
Feels the way I do about you now

And all the roads that lead you there were winding
And all the lights that light the way are blinding
There are many things that I would like to say to you
But I don’t know how

I said maybe
You’re gonna be the one that saves me
And after all
You’re my wonderwall

Wonderwall – Oasis

Theology question running in my head the last several months:

If God does not change, grow, or learn, how can He be perfect?  Limitless creativity necessitates limitless adaptation, by definition; but to say that God can ‘adapt’, ‘repent’, or ‘learn’, is to place bounds on his power and knowledge.  In other words, creativity cannot exist apart from change, and yet we know that God, the Author of all creation, does not change, “neither is there shadow of turning in him”.  Is it possible that God does not have to fit our definition to hold the office of God?