My Blog
Pieces of Clay
This is my personal blog. Words about faith, life, word, and art. Not so much a journal of living as a journey of learning. About how God, the Master Potter, molds together the many pieces of our lives to subtly shape us into vessels that he can use, or just enjoy. These are some of my “pieces of Clay.”
I was contemplating the role of the artist in my life of faith. I envisioned myself inside an enclosed room, walled in on all sides by this thing called time. Outside the solid yet opaque walls of my time box was eternity—the endless expanse of time and space. But there were windows in the walls of the time box.
They are the hands of God. These hands.
Just common, corporeal stuff. But mine.
These uncommon wonders of God’s design.
He put himself into my hands. His life is in my hands.
I enjoy writing poetry, though I am little more than a novitiate of the poetic craft, a tyro in training. Why poetry? I am drawn to the mystery and magic of words, and the rhythm and rhyme of verse and form.
How can we turn an otherwise secular Thanksgiving Day into a Christian family day of thanks? Easy. We just ask: “What would Jesus give thanks for?”
Winnie-the-Pooh died today. Or, rather, his father died today. Not his real father mind you. And not this day, but on this day. Oh, dear. I mean, on another day that is the same as this day. A different kind of same day. I mean. Oh, bother.
This was a Lenten season sonnet. It is a reflection on Christ as the bread of life. We need bread to live, just as we need Christ to live. God gives us bread, just as he gave us Jesus.
Music is a piece of my life, a part of my puzzle. Once upon a time I thought I would become a “singer-songwriter,” but the “singer” part eventually un-hyphenated itself. Now it’s enough to be a songwriter. Just a songwriter.
Most authors probably have said it at least once: Their books are like children. I certainly don’t disagree with that familiar sentiment, but when I say those same words about my books I think I mean them differently.
This blog is a journey of learning. I learned from my first attempt at a Pieces of Clay blog in 2014-2015, so I’m trying again, but I don’t mean that kind of learning.
[From 2015] Music anchors memories for me. While a few songs are forever tied to a specific event or place in my mind, I think almost every song that I’ve ever enjoyed is tied to a particular season or time in my life. They’re like the soundtrack of the mental movie of that part of my life. When I hear the song, I see that part of my story.
[From 2015] The term “discipleship” never really occurs in Scripture. It’s a relatively recent English word coined to capture the essence of Christ’s parting command to “make disciples of all the nations” (Matthew 28:19).
[From 2015] I have called myself an evangelical since 1974. Back then, we knew what the word meant. Now, it’s a challenge to reconcile what that word means to me with what the word has come to mean in culture.
[From 2015] The Civil War ended 150 years ago, but we’re still fighting over its most visible artifact. The racially-motivated murder of nine African American Christians in a church in Charleston, South Carolina, has only underscored and elevated a long-simmering charge that the Confederate flag has become a divisive symbol of oppression, racism, and discrimination.
A quarantine sonnet inspired by a photo on a late afternoon walk near Monument Rock, and written out of the pensive pool of pandemic ponderings about light and life on the way to seventy.