Stop Press...

After months of procrastination and hem-haw-ing, I've finally got backlog of my post-thesis road trip posted up for your viewing pleasure! Enjoy!

In order: 
1. [A] [B]Orange and inland NSW
2. [C] Broken Hill and Silverton
3. [D] [E] [F] Adelaide and Kangaroo Island
4. [G] [H] Great Ocean Road
5. Apollo Bay and what happened there
6. [I] [J] [K] Melbourne, Canberra, and Dust


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Tried, Tired.

*plop*

I tried and I'm tired. Tired of waiting, of hoping and wondering; tired of thinking and guessing; tired of planning and worrying. Tired of believing, tired, worn, weary and exhausted.

I'm wholly thankful, that's for sure, but boy am I still grouched. Meh. Kick the dust off my feet, arise and go to Jesus, fall into his strong arms in embrace, take a deep, wholesome sleep.

I Will Arise (Come, Ye Sinners)

Joseph Hart (1835)

Come, ye sinners, poor and needy,

Weak and wounded, sick and sore;

Jesus ready stands to save you,

Full of pity, love and pow’r.

I will arise and go to Jesus,

He will embrace me in His arms;

In the arms of my dear Savior,

Oh, there are ten thousand charms.

Come, ye thirsty, come, and welcome,

God’s free bounty glorify;

True belief and true repentance,

Every grace that brings you nigh.

Come, ye weary, heavy-laden,

Lost and ruined by the fall;

If you tarry till you’re better,

You will never come at all.

View Him prostrate in the garden;

On the ground your Maker lies;

On the bloody tree behold Him;

Sinner, will this not suffice?

Lo! th’ incarnate God ascended,

Pleads the merit of His blood:

Venture on Him, venture wholly,

Let no other trust intrude.

Let not conscience make you linger,

Not of fitness fondly dream;

All the fitness He requireth

Is to feel your need of Him.

Dream On...

Have we stumbled out of our skins,

into the cold barren land of futility?

Have we lost ourselves in our own woods,

into the thicket of things that could be?

Have we sat on our precious petty bottoms,

until the pins prick and we are icy numb?

Have we trapped our dreams in neat little boxes,

and kept it deep underground, safe and cosy?

Have we made captives of our hopes and visions,

mummified in glass, put pretty on a pedestal?

Have we held on to our flights of fancy much too tightly,

strangled it lifeless refusing to let go?

Have we missed the forest for the trees,

and made mountains out of moleskins?

Have we woken up too early,

and forgotten our dreams?

... ... ... ...

Have we smothered our inspiration,

taken too deep a breath, yet failed to exhale?

Have we sought out safety at the expense of adventure,

given in to fear of failure and scorn of men?

Have we made totems out of our poles,

and standing out of our stones?

Have we made monuments out of movements,

museums out of homes?

Have we fought wars and made battle,

or is there nothing worth dying for?

Have we given in to desires,

or are our passions not strong enough?

Have we loved, have we run,

have we truly raced?

Have we lived, have we died,

have we walked on grace?

Psalm 126 (NASB)

Thanksgiving for Return from Captivity

A Song of Ascents

    ¹When the LORD brought back the captive ones of Zion,

         We were like those who dream.

    ²Then our mouth was filled with laughter

         And our tongue with joyful shouting;

         Then they said among the nations,

         "The LORD has done great things for them."

    ³The LORD has done great things for us;

         We are glad.

    ⁴Restore our captivity, O LORD,

         As the streams in the South.

    ⁵Those who sow in tears shall reap with joyful shouting.

    ⁶He who goes to and fro weeping, carrying his bag of seed,

         Shall indeed come again with a shout of joy, bringing his sheaves with him.