Sunsets and Romantic Thoughts

I’ve always loved sunsets, how the sun changes hues from lightly sparkling yellow to deeply molten red, the light slowly giving way to the darkness all the while, and strange romantic thoughts suddenly striking the mind, seemingly from nowhere.  Whenever I really sit down and look at a sunset, I feel a strange contradiction of emotions — a deep sense of wellbeing washing up with the last of the fading beams, yet on the other hand, a sense of missing potential as though life was meant for something more than what I’ve yet lived.

Whenever I watch the sun slowly descend upon the world, I’m always struck by a strange and timeless notion that the world is still full of possibility.  I feel a connection to the grand, elusive scheme intertwining all of humankind, and am struck by something indefinable, that though I cannot define, still compels me to want to do better with my life than what I have done so far.  Those of you who know me know that I love to quote my favorite authors.  This one is one of my absolute favorites from Henry David Thoreau.  “When we are unhurried and wise we perceive that only great and worthy things have any absolute and permanent existence, that petty fears and petty pleasures are but the shadow of reality.”

Perception is such an odd thing.  Most of my days, I perceive very little beyond the duties of the day and the simple pleasures found within each one.  But then, every so often, when I genuinely stop to gaze at a sunset, or walk a moonlit path, suddenly I perceive something more, something grand and compelling that seems to fill up the night.  And once that happens, once I perceive something truly great and wonderful, I am compelled to do better with my life.  I cannot simply live resigned to simple pleasures and routines.  It’s so odd to me that I can be manipulated by such whimsical forces.  But I’m glad for the fact, glad that every now and again, something can break me free from the normal day to day and give me a glimpse of those welcomed romantic thoughts I often push away from my mind.

I’m sure that I’m not the only one who experiences this strange romantic phenomenon.  And this is not the phenomenon of regret, where being alone causes a person to think about all the mistakes they’ve made, and the things they’ve lost that can never be gotten back.  This is something different, something hopeful and full of potential.  For those of you who aren’t in a place where you get to see beautiful sunsets, here’s an awesome romantic poem from Thomas Moore about a sunset:

“How dear to me the hour when daylight dies
And sunbeams melt along the silent sea.
For then sweet dreams of other days arise
And memory breathes her vesper sigh to me
And as I watch the line of light that plays
Along the smooth wave toward the burning west
I long to tread that golden path of rays
And think, twould lead to some bright isle of rest.”


Ecclesiastes Study — Everything Beautiful

I often like to study the book of Ecclesiastes in the Bible.  I feel drawn to it for some reason, it’s bleak outlook on life augmented by the poetic nature of the writing.  I’ve always been very intrigued by the book, trying to understand its wisdom and complex and developed views on death, pleasure, wisdom, foolishness, vanity, meaninglessness, life and truth, to name a few.  It’s one of the most interesting parts of scripture, or even historical literature.  It’s quite an experience to read the unadulterated, explicit thoughts about life written so long ago, especially from a man (the preacher) who, in his day, had it all.  And though the book is rife with poetic woe and not for the faint of heart, there are portions of it that are very simple and relevant to life in our modern age.  One observation I particularly like is this: “I saw that all labor and all achievement spring from a man’s envy of his neighbor.” That one hits close to home.  But in my study of Ecclesiastes, flipping slowly through ancient thoughts on life, meaning, and purpose, one verse in particular struck me as important.  In 3:10-11, it says:

“I have seen the burden God has laid on men.
He has made everything beautiful in its time.”

At first glance, this appears almost like a contradiction.  Why would making something beautiful be seen as a burden — not only a burden, but the overarching burden the writer feels that God has placed upon humankind?  It’s an interesting question, one which I didn’t have an answer for, for a very long time.  But as my study of Ecclesiastes and also of life continued, I began to find an answer.

In our world, if pressed about it, most people would admit that inwardly they struggle with finding meaning in life. People go to school, they work, they get married and have kids, and inevitably arrive they at a crossroads where they’re struck by the brevity of life and time. We wake up one morning, and realize that half our lives have been spent, but we still haven’t found the meaning in life we thought was out there somewhere. This type of event is most commonly labeled a midlife crisis. The Bible references this type of feeling in many places, one of which is Psalm 39:

“Each man’s life is but a breath,
Man is a mere phantom that goes to and fro;
he bustles about, but only in vain;
he heaps up wealth not knowing who will get it.”

I believe the burden he’s referring to in Ecclesiastes can be most accurately summed up by this quote:  “Melancholy is at the bottom of everything, just as at the end of all rivers is the sea. How can it be otherwise in a world where nothing lasts?”  Henri Frederic Amiel. The word that describes this phenomenon is futility — that nagging natural law that slowly strips the meaning away from all the things we thought we’d always cherish.

According to the ancient writer, the overarching burden of life is that beautiful things just don’t last, they only have their time, and the time they have is brief.  When I thought about this notion, I couldn’t help but wonder what a world would be like where beautiful things didn’t fade away, where things were beautiful and meaningful always.

Imagine, if you will, a world where the fire of passion and depth of human emotion never faded — where meaningful activities and relationships never grew cold, retaining their vivacity for all of time. One could sit on the shores of a quiet beach, watching the waves lap against the sand, and be perfectly content, every moment holding the same feeling of peace and contentment as the one before. Never would he grow bored or impatient, though he spend days and weeks enjoying only the simplest things in life. Also in such a world, one could maintain the fire and flame of love burning with the same vivacity for all of time. People would never “fall out of love” or “lose that lovin feeling” as the song goes. It would last forever, just as the fairytale books tell us.

Shadows on the Edge of Town If you liked this post, you’ll love Ben’s book Shadows on the Edge of Town — a Theological Allegory packed with deep symbolism.


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When I Saw You


When I saw you it was as though a morning had dawned

Round night mists yet gathered on a silent, still pond.

And the light of your smile was the first gleam of day,

And your eyes, the slow river that brought me away.


Away from the land where my troubles abide,

Once restless and raw as the shifting tide.

At last to the glow of the bright boundless sea.

Where deep calls to deep, and she calls to me.




At Home Across the Sea If you liked this poem, you’ll like Ben’s book At Home Across the Sea.


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Cutting Firewood and Wild Berries

I wandered into the backwoods of my aunt and uncles property yesterday to cut some trees for firewood.  The air was cool beneath the quiet dark, and we roamed it slowly, searching for crop of deadwood still standing that we had seen before.  On the way we happened upon something unexpected, a patch of wild berries, which we stopped awhile to eat.  And sitting for a time beneath the swaying limbs of trees, my mind was coaxed to life by the sweetness of the nectar and something inexplicable beneath the ever-dark’ning woods, thoughts of wild berries and cut firewood give way to something larger.

It’s an odd thing to do a job which men before have done for thousands of years — and roam beneath a forest older than even the town it now encircles.  Something about it brings strange aspirations and feelings to mind.  Here, life is simple, traditional… satisfying.  I have noticed something interesting while sitting on my chair overlooking the woods.  Thoughts seem to set their own pace.  In the city where I grew up, thoughts seem more hurried, more in want of solutions than of anything else, and they stomp through the mind in search of their answers.  But here in the woods, thoughts seem more a restless wanderer, inviting me to along to see what may be found.  And what are we looking for?  Perhaps nothing at all.  Perhaps simply marveling at life, overtaken by that familiar deep sense of well-being just to be alive at all.  A storm’s coming.  Glad to have the firewood underneath the woodshed.

Seeking God

Seeking God is a very interesting phrase.  In my earlier years, there came a point in my life when conviction compelled me to decide whether I was going to merely continue to believe what I had always thought was true, or whether I would actually seek out the truth on my own, apart from what I’d been told.  Up to that point, I had known very little of the world, of philosophy, and even of the Bible itself.  There’s an interesting pair of verses in the Bible that talk about seeking God.  The first is in Jeremiah 29.  “You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.

The second comes in Psalm 10: “In his pride the wicked man does not seek Him.  In all his thoughts there is no room for God.”  These verses, paired together, show an interesting association between pride and truth.  For most of my younger life, though I was unaware of it, I had a strong spiritual pride.  I didn’t feel like seeking God because I thought I knew the truth well enough already.  I was, in fact, very similar to the wicked man in the second verse, too busy with my own small plans to think about the things in life that really mattered.

But then, something struck me once I graduated from high school.  I read a quote by C.S. Lewis which said, “Of all bad men, religious bad men are the worst.“  And suddenly, I felt a strong conviction and guilt over the attitude I had had for all my life up until that point.  Spiritual pride is among the worst of things in the world.  God requires that a person seek him.  When we think we know everything, and no longer think about striving after God, truth, and knowledge, we come to a very bad place.

So what is seeking God?  What is seeking truth?  In my mind, it’s all about the attitude we have.  Pride keeps a person locked away in their own small world.  Humility gives a person the perspective that the world is a big place, and maybe they haven’t gotten it all figured out just yet.  For my own part, I prefer what life looks like through the lens of humility– knowing that I can control very little of what goes on around me, that life is much bigger than I, and maybe, just maybe, something truly grand is out there for me to seek and to find.  I guess I’ll have to wait and see.


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