Empyrean Bestowal, Part II: Hope Revealed

A Visit from Red
To read Part I, click here!

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Within six feet, my foot slipped, and I hit the pebbly ground, slicing my hands, face, arms, and legs. I closed my eyes as I began to feel the familiar pain of sliding down a rocky slope. But wait, I wasn't sliding. I jerked my head up to see the Stranger holding on to one of my bloody, numbed hands. He pulled me up; I don't know how He did it. Somehow, He did not fall. Sooner than I expected, I stood before Him, though it was I who was panting, and not He.

 

He put His hand on my shoulder, and explained. "You can't do it yourself. Let Me lead, and you follow."

 

The road...it did not become easy of a sudden. The first ditches we mounted were ones I thought I knew to be insurmountable. He went before me, and somehow always gained the upper edge of the trench. Then, He would reach down for me. He'd pull me out the hole, and I know not how He managed to always do so, for the ditches were great.

I recognized many of these pitfalls. Most of them, on my downward, backsliding way, I had willingly slid into, thankful for a brief respite. Some, I know, were caused by my sliding. But one and all, both the ditches I had made and those I had fallen into, He pulled me out of. After every ditch and bramble, I found it easier to trust Him, grasping His hand with mine as He lifted me out from the depths. At first, I tried to hurry the process of getting up. Running, climbing or scurrying, up the ditches' side, I would inevitably fail. It was only when He was there to help me, and I let Him work with me, that I was able to mount those looming barriers. 

 

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At last, we reached a part in the road that slowly leveled out. Looking ahead, I saw before me a city of wondrous size resting upon the summit. Even from the distance yet before us, it shone like a lamp on a stand. As we journeyed nearer, time seemed to slow, so anxious was I to reach the Shining End. However, this last leg did not take long; although time seemed to last forever, only moments had passed before we stood beneath the jasper wall, in front of a gate fashioned of pearls. (There were three like it, and we entered by the middle). I was brought through it to the Palace of the King, along streets of gold. It is indescribable - the awesomeness of the city and the Palace within. But all grew dim - the gold, the sapphires, the emeralds, the countless other jewels and gems, the multitude of palace servants honoring the King - when I saw Him - the King of kings, the Lord of Lords, the Alpha and Omega - and the Lamb, seated at the right hand of God, Who left His throne above and gave His all for me.

 

I fell to my knees. What a Blessing I had received, without it belonging to me at all: that the King of the universe, the Creator of all, God Himself, came to me, that I might live with Him. He sent His Son down the path of life, to save me from my own destructive ways. "...Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost." (I Timothy 1:15b). May I never forget this ultimate blessing, the Greatest of Ethereal Treasures!

Empyrean Bestowal, Part I: The Final Hope of Mundi Cursum

A Visit from Red

Ahhh, friends, what can I say to you about Josh, or "Red" as he is called in the blogging world? He's my friend and partner in crime adventure. He has impeccable taste in books and amazing potential with the violin. He's learning the bagpipes. He's attentive and generous. He's the guy who seats me at dinner each night, who will be in stitches with me over something nobody else in the room finds funny (their loss), who's game for just about anything, but who maintains a balance of common sense that some of us...require. What better way to wrap up this party than with a fabulous allegory he wrote? Be patient...Part II will appear on Monday. :)

Allow me the pleasure of introducing my 15-year-old brother, Red.

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I was on Mundi Cursum, travelling like the rest. The downward slope was not too great, but at times I would find myself losing my foot hold. At other times, I would collapse into one of the deep ditches, scattered on the road at frequent intervals. This was not as bad as it may seem at first; for, while the ditch's top would be parallel to the road, the road's great slant allowed a certain ease in exiting these ditches. Naturally, one climbed out on the side that led to the down-going road, for it was impossible to climb up the slope. I had seen some try, and even tried myself; but climbing only threw the person further down the path, with a cascade of dirt and rocks following him. All who tried never, ever succeeded...at least, any of the individuals I'd seen.

 

There were many beliefs about where the road led. Some asserted that it led to a luscious plain, just beyond the thick fog (the fog - such a strange aroma it held...). Others thought that at the bottom of this hill was another hill, and another, and another, until one could find a way to extricate himself from this endless journey. Still others believed that we would die on the trail, and that would be it. These - mostly hopeless - beliefs drove many to attempt the climb upward, but after the inevitable failure, the upward trek seemed evermore unfeasible.

 

We could not exit the path off to the side, for a wide, deep ditch filled with bramble as long as a man flanked the path. More than likely, some had ventured to cross the ditch, but I did not know any who were so foolish. Death certainly met those who tried. The situation was fatally grim. Some, in desperation, threw themselves forward, hoping to reach the end before they died. Their cries were the last we heard of them. I just wanted to get somewhere, and in my youth firmly believed in a "better place;" but years of aimless, tiresome, and endless travelling changed that; I, too, no longer contested, but confirmed, the assertion that the path was meaningless.

 

That's when I met Him.

 

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He looked like the rest. Apparently, He wasn't an able climber...that's what I first thought. Cuts, bruises, and multiple wounds adorned Him. I had seen Him for some time, for instead of stumbling down the path with all, He was struggling upward. He paused at every person; His words were spoken earnestly, though gently, and never hurried. I saw those with whom He spoke look upward, back at Him, and then shake their heads, continuing their descent. Finally, I reached Him (or, He reached me...which is, I believe, the more proper verbiage).

 

"My son, do you care to travel upward?" He asked. I, like the others, turned my gaze to the path behind me.

 

"Why, Sir?"

 

His steadfast gaze held mine as He answered. "Because this road leads to death. Upward leads to life." Again, I glanced to the towering slope, which appeared to have a sharper incline, more pits, and greater brambles. Many of the ditches spanned the whole road. They would be impossible to climb out of, if one attempted the feat.

 

"Can You...how will You bring me up?" I had seen some try. All had failed. For an answer, His steady, kind eyes held mine. With that, I did not need any other answer: I knew that this Man had the ability to make it to the top. I, exhausted of this road, the falling, the cuts, summoned the resolve to grasp this final straw of hope. My head sank in acknowledgement, and I turned my back on the Cursum's plummet.



This is Test...

...in which I attempt to embed an mp3...

...in a blog post...

Since this is a test...

...I'm just doing an old composition of Ben's....

 But if you want to know why I'm giving this a trial....

...you should check out Papa's Blog within the next day or two.

Definitely. Worth. It.

Ciao!

In Case You're Wondering...

For the record, I like watching movies with my bros. I like that they don't mind watching "period films" (aka "chick flicks") with us. It makes me smile when they comment to each other about the gentlemanly manners of the hero. But...sometimes it gets interesting.

Take tonight, for instance.

Emmy, Rachel, and I settled down to watch a movie of the above genre, and Benj and Josh joined us. All was going well (of course, they threw out a few comments, but...), until the end, when they dubbed  the hero + heroine their "favorite football team" and sports-casted the "touchdown" (kiss)...

I sure hope Rachel threw that remote hard enough those welts and bumps on their heads heal soon.

My Week - Part Two: Class of 2011

Saturday, July 23rd.
Benjamin's high-school graduation. (Took place on the Twinkles' real birthday). I am so proud of him!
First, his actual graduation pics...such a handsom bro I have!



Er...how did this picture get in there??

And now, the graduation pics...Yes, I know they're not the best quality.

But better poor pics than no pics at all, right? :)

 

It was a good day. :)

Dear Ben: Don't Forget

I'm sitting here in a cute little coffee shop (the only place I can find internet! :), sipping the yummiest Vanilla Chai I've ever had, in lovely, 80-degree-weather. We are on vacation in sunny California! Unfortunately, Benjamin had to stay home from this amazing trip. Something about having a job? I don't know... Anyway, we missed him so much, we wrote him a letter! Enjoy! :)

Watch-It Wednesday: Battle for Skandia

Ladies and Gentlemen! Presenting, for your viewing pleasure, the professionally-filmed video of "Battle for Skandia", conducted by Benjamin Coder!

Disclaimer: the quality of the performance is in no way connected with the quality of effort put forth by cameraman, composer, or conductor (these persons are perfect, and of course, leave nothing to be desired); and as such, the afore-mentioned persons should not be held accountable for any aspect of the performance. This includes, but is not limited to, the intonation, energy, and precision of the musicians. However, if any of the performance is offensive to you, there are no persons available to sue. Sorry.

Sweet Beginnings

I was sorting through my memory box this morning when I stumbled upon it. A letter-sized, white, sheet of paper, slightly stained with a mysterious substance (I'm guessing chocolate), that made its way into my possession about 9 years ago...

I had only been taking from my new piano teacher for a couple months when she gave me the insurmountable assignment: find a poem I liked, and put it to music. Coming home that morning, I was filled with trepidation. Grapple with the time signature, key signature, and the actual logistics of writing a melody and accompaniment out on a sheet of paper? Much as I loved the idea of composing my own songs, I was certain that a purposeful tune of my own was beyond my abilities.

But an assignment is an assignment. I struggled through the process, eventually finding myself with a piece that fit together, worked with the poem, and met all the theory requirements. Nonetheless, I was disheartened by the result. Benjamin, however, thought "The Captain's Daughter" was wonderful, and could daily be found pounding out the minor tune on the piano, until I finally cried in exasperation: "Ben, write your own piece!"

And so he did. A few days later I found a sheet of paper, folded in quarters, sitting on my bed.

Opening it up, my eyes beheld a two-line tune that switched meter not only unconventionally, but also unnecessarily, considering that the beats did not always add up anyway. I knew as I looked at it that the tune was unplayable - my musical prowess at the time was such that I could not understand playing a piece without the exact beats. Yet, I was touched by the title, and went to find Ben and thank him for "my song." "Yeah, well, I figured that I want to write lots of music, and if I ever get famous, I wanted the first song I had written to be for you," my 9-year-old little brother told me, gazing proudly at the sheet in my hand. I had him play it for me, and then copied his performance to the best of my abilities, using the paper to be sure of the notes. And so Ben's first composition was performed in the quiet of our music room - just he and I, sitting on a piano bench, sunshine warming our backs.

Several years later, in 2010, another piece of his was performed, this time for a much larger audience, when friend Jenny and I played the piano-cello duet he composed specifically for us: "Forgotten Fantasia." And again, this spring, another ensemble of his, "Time," was played by Emmy, Rachel, and friend Jo.

But tomorrow is the real deal. At 3pm, in the sanctuary of Mount Scott Church of God, Benjamin will conduct OPAYCO in the first performance of his orchestral piece, "Battle for Skandia." Exciting, beautiful, and just plain fun, it has been such a privilege to be a participant in the premiering of his music. Tomorrow, as the grin slides over my face in response to the catchy cello motif, or the throb of the timpani beat, or the melancholic measures of the English horn, I'll look at Ben, and remember his first song. I'll remember that afternoon, swinging our bare feet from the piano bench, playing "My Sister Sarah." And I'll be proud of my famous composer-brother.