The new blog design reflects a similarly drastic change in my own surroundings.
A week ago I left Washington State (after only about 20 days at home) for a new job in Colorado Springs. It's with a Christian publisher called David C Cook, and truly, I could not have designed a more ideal "first job." It's exactly what I've wanted to do ever since I was 15 and discovered the world called publishing. In many ways, it's the culmination of many years of study, both as an English major at Grove City College, and my somewhat strategic pursuit of a Digital Publishing MA at Oxford Brookes.
I'm overwhelmed with how quickly God brought me to this next stage, and how He continues to demonstrate His absolute and intimate knowledge of me. Of course the transition was hard -- I expected to have several months back in Washington to catch up with friends I hadn't seen since I left for England. But in other ways I think this is for the best.
Sitting at my desk this week, I had to laugh when I realized that I am being paid to read and edit books all day. And not just any books -- books that have a deeper purpose than the publisher's profit line or tuning out the world for a few hours. Of course there's nothing intrinsically wrong with those things, but it is deeply satisfying to know these books have the potential to communicate the love and truth of Christ, to transform their readers.
And maybe their copy editors.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
Goodbyes
With a sigh
You turn away
With a deepening heart
No words to say
You will find
That the world has changed forever
The trees are now turning from green to gold
And the sun is now fading
I wish I could hold you closer
(Howard Shore, "Arwen's Song")
You turn away
With a deepening heart
No words to say
You will find
That the world has changed forever
The trees are now turning from green to gold
And the sun is now fading
I wish I could hold you closer
(Howard Shore, "Arwen's Song")
Monday, August 16, 2010
The End is Near
In just over two weeks I will hand in my major project and freedom will commence. After spending most of July and the first part of August locked in the computer lab, I'm pleased the ebook files I've created are working! Earlier today I was able to read one of them on an iPad...very gratifying.
I'll be leaving England and flying back to Seattle on September 20th...a bittersweet prospect. But I have most of September to say my goodbyes and pack in as much travelling as possible, including just over a week in Ireland. I'm going to take a two-day horseback riding trip around the Dingle Peninsula, then spend a few days in Dublin, Belfast, and surrounding areas.
On the day I fly out, I will have spent exactly a year and a day in England. Oxford will never again be just a word on a page -- I know it now. And part of me will never really leave -- or maybe it's better to say part of it will never leave me. You can never really go back once you've been so touched, so changed by a place. Although changed might not be the right word. Renewed, reborn, restored to what I thought was lost and dead.
Before I left the States I wrote a post about time and how it puts more distance between me and my best memories while carrying me into unknown trials. In those months I dimly guessed that there might be good things ahead, but in my mind they would never live up to what was gone. If only I could have known how every joy of the old days would be swallowed up and fulfilled in what lay ahead.
I will not fear time again. It might bear me away from Oxford, but I'm still on my way home.
Switchfoot says it better.
I'll be leaving England and flying back to Seattle on September 20th...a bittersweet prospect. But I have most of September to say my goodbyes and pack in as much travelling as possible, including just over a week in Ireland. I'm going to take a two-day horseback riding trip around the Dingle Peninsula, then spend a few days in Dublin, Belfast, and surrounding areas.
On the day I fly out, I will have spent exactly a year and a day in England. Oxford will never again be just a word on a page -- I know it now. And part of me will never really leave -- or maybe it's better to say part of it will never leave me. You can never really go back once you've been so touched, so changed by a place. Although changed might not be the right word. Renewed, reborn, restored to what I thought was lost and dead.
Before I left the States I wrote a post about time and how it puts more distance between me and my best memories while carrying me into unknown trials. In those months I dimly guessed that there might be good things ahead, but in my mind they would never live up to what was gone. If only I could have known how every joy of the old days would be swallowed up and fulfilled in what lay ahead.
I will not fear time again. It might bear me away from Oxford, but I'm still on my way home.
Switchfoot says it better.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
From the Trenches
Apologies again for the long break.
The July sunshine is streaming through my window, making my keyboard hot to the touch. People who say it rains all the time in England obviously haven't lived here in the summer. It has been an idyllic one with long hot days and peaceful nights. Last week was the 4th of July, which obviously isn't recognized over here by the Brits, but nonetheless there was a carnival in a nearby park that some American friends and I co-opted for our own celebration.
Most of my time is now consumed with my major project (on ebook construction) and job hunting. Both are draining and frustrating processes at times. I've had to confront my various reasons for wanting to stay in the UK and the practical/emotional call of returning to the States. All that to say I still don't know where I will be living in two months, which is definitely a new experience for me -- so used to having life planned out months/years ahead. It's an exercise in trust and remembering the thousand ways God has proven His love and care over the years. How can I not trust that the same Father who brought me here to Oxford will lead me to the next phase of the adventure?
Last year I received a special graduation gift from some dear friends -- a book of Puritan prayers called The Valley of Vision. Various passages from this book have spoken to me over the months, but today I wanted to share the end of a prayer called "Contrition."
"In all my affairs may I distinguish between
duty and anxiety,
and may my character and not my
circumstances chiefly engage me."
That prayer reflects the same desire that awoke in me when I read this description of Brother Lawrence in Practicing the Presence of of God (find a copy and read it!) :
"He was neither hasty nor loitering, but did each thing in its season, with an even, uninterrupted composure and tranquility of spirit."
That's what I hope to do and be in my (possibly) last few weeks in Oxford...and with the rest of my life.
The July sunshine is streaming through my window, making my keyboard hot to the touch. People who say it rains all the time in England obviously haven't lived here in the summer. It has been an idyllic one with long hot days and peaceful nights. Last week was the 4th of July, which obviously isn't recognized over here by the Brits, but nonetheless there was a carnival in a nearby park that some American friends and I co-opted for our own celebration.
Most of my time is now consumed with my major project (on ebook construction) and job hunting. Both are draining and frustrating processes at times. I've had to confront my various reasons for wanting to stay in the UK and the practical/emotional call of returning to the States. All that to say I still don't know where I will be living in two months, which is definitely a new experience for me -- so used to having life planned out months/years ahead. It's an exercise in trust and remembering the thousand ways God has proven His love and care over the years. How can I not trust that the same Father who brought me here to Oxford will lead me to the next phase of the adventure?
Last year I received a special graduation gift from some dear friends -- a book of Puritan prayers called The Valley of Vision. Various passages from this book have spoken to me over the months, but today I wanted to share the end of a prayer called "Contrition."
"In all my affairs may I distinguish between
duty and anxiety,
and may my character and not my
circumstances chiefly engage me."
That prayer reflects the same desire that awoke in me when I read this description of Brother Lawrence in Practicing the Presence of of God (find a copy and read it!) :
"He was neither hasty nor loitering, but did each thing in its season, with an even, uninterrupted composure and tranquility of spirit."
That's what I hope to do and be in my (possibly) last few weeks in Oxford...and with the rest of my life.
Monday, May 24, 2010
A Thousand Words
Classes have been over exactly one week, and today I started back on my major project with considerably more enthusiasm than I expected. I must admit, I got used to writing about publishing for my class blog, so if some industry ramblings show up here occasionally, that's why.
Over the weekend I wrote a little piece for the Brookes website about my experience of the course so far. It was good to reflect on the last eight months, for despite my frustrations with myself and the course in general, I am incredibly grateful for my time here.
A picture is supposed to be worth a thousand words, and I would need at least that many to give you a proper update. So here are three.
Easter Sunday in the Scottish Highlands
Loch Ness
Spring in Oxford
Over the weekend I wrote a little piece for the Brookes website about my experience of the course so far. It was good to reflect on the last eight months, for despite my frustrations with myself and the course in general, I am incredibly grateful for my time here.
A picture is supposed to be worth a thousand words, and I would need at least that many to give you a proper update. So here are three.
Easter Sunday in the Scottish Highlands
Loch Ness
Spring in Oxford
Arise, my love, my beautiful one,
and come away,
for behold, the winter is past;
the rain is over and gone.
The flowers appear on the earth,
the time of singing has come
Song of Solomon 2:10-12a
Monday, May 17, 2010
Freedom
It has been too miserably long since I've written to attempt a proper catch-up, so I'll just jump right back in media res.
I'm sitting in the computer lab right now finishing my last bits of coursework for the year. Freedom is nearly here, and I intend to fully enjoy the summer holidays. However, my thoughts are beginning to turn to what I'll do in September, when my major project will be finished and I'll find myself facing the world beyond Oxford.
One of my many hypothetical plans is to get a publishing job in Scotland. (I visited it for the first time over Easter and can definitely see myself living in Edinburgh.) BUT I just discovered a rather discouraging article that said one of the very publishers I was interested in (St Andrew Press) is "on the brink of closure." There is a glimmer of hope, however, in that one of the executives of Publishing Scotland said the industry "is moving to digital, publishing on demand, or the internet and blogs."
Maybe this MA in Digital Publishing degree will be enough to earn me a spot in Braveheart country?
I'm sitting in the computer lab right now finishing my last bits of coursework for the year. Freedom is nearly here, and I intend to fully enjoy the summer holidays. However, my thoughts are beginning to turn to what I'll do in September, when my major project will be finished and I'll find myself facing the world beyond Oxford.
One of my many hypothetical plans is to get a publishing job in Scotland. (I visited it for the first time over Easter and can definitely see myself living in Edinburgh.) BUT I just discovered a rather discouraging article that said one of the very publishers I was interested in (St Andrew Press) is "on the brink of closure." There is a glimmer of hope, however, in that one of the executives of Publishing Scotland said the industry "is moving to digital, publishing on demand, or the internet and blogs."
Maybe this MA in Digital Publishing degree will be enough to earn me a spot in Braveheart country?
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Hello Love
“Love itself is our most selfish emotion.”
That’s the gist of an article that somehow ended up on my Google News alerts this week. So in the spirit of Valentine’s Day, here’s my rebuttal.
This is the author’s argument: “When you love someone it is purely to satisfy your ego. . . Every expression towards those you love is also a mutual trade between two people for reciprocal advantage and to regard love as sacrificial or altruistic makes it, and the relationships that result, pointless and contemptible.”
When I got over my initial irritation at this statement, it struck me that HE’S RIGHT. Love, as understood and practiced in our culture, is all about self. Romance is a cycle of emotion in which happiness is contingent upon how good the other person makes us feel.
Interestingly, this view of love fits perfectly with Richard Dawkins’s claim in The Selfish Gene: “Now they [the genes] swarm in huge colonies, safe inside gigantic lumbering robots... They are in you and me; they created us, body and mind; and their preservation is the ultimate rationale for our existence.” In an atheist, postmodern culture, love is simply what we call the relationship between two sets of genes using each other to reproduce. All the flowers, chocolate, lingerie…just natural selection marching on.
So why, if you read this article to your date tonight, would you get a slap in the face? Because, at our core, we know that love transcends self. It’s not just Christian tradition that asserts itself here. A quick review of popular films reveals the same theme. Consider the sacrifices in Band of Brothers, We Were Soldiers, The Dark Knight, Schindler’s List, even Terminator. On the girl side, think Titanic and Twilight. All involve putting your own desires and even life aside for the good of another.
Why this dichotomy? Why do we recognize that love SHOULD be selfless, yet remain trapped in self-interest?
I think it’s because we’ve mistaken human love for what it’s supposed to point to. Yes, love can deliver some of the best life has to offer: companionship, passion, understanding, pleasure, and the rest of the Valentine’s Day adjectives. But inevitably, something breaks down. Love fails, leaves us empty or broken. We become cynical, convinced that romance is just two people using each other, ready to move on as soon as the deal isn’t mutually profitable.
The fact that love cannot completely satisfy—even though it brings great joy—I think points to a far deeper reality. We were created for relationships, not just with each other, but with God. Only he offers the perfect love and faithfulness we crave (even though we may mock it). His love is unconditional, unearned, constant. Why he desires us is a mystery, but he does. We were made for his delight and to delight in him. And love is what he did to win us back. “This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers” (1 John 3:16).
Selfless love happens when we realize we are already loved perfectly. It’s not selfish to desire joy—the problem simply comes from looking in the wrong place. The best of human love offers a stunning picture of God. When we turn from the picture to the artist behind it, only then do we know Love.
As usual, C. S. Lewis says it best:
That’s the gist of an article that somehow ended up on my Google News alerts this week. So in the spirit of Valentine’s Day, here’s my rebuttal.
This is the author’s argument: “When you love someone it is purely to satisfy your ego. . . Every expression towards those you love is also a mutual trade between two people for reciprocal advantage and to regard love as sacrificial or altruistic makes it, and the relationships that result, pointless and contemptible.”
When I got over my initial irritation at this statement, it struck me that HE’S RIGHT. Love, as understood and practiced in our culture, is all about self. Romance is a cycle of emotion in which happiness is contingent upon how good the other person makes us feel.
Interestingly, this view of love fits perfectly with Richard Dawkins’s claim in The Selfish Gene: “Now they [the genes] swarm in huge colonies, safe inside gigantic lumbering robots... They are in you and me; they created us, body and mind; and their preservation is the ultimate rationale for our existence.” In an atheist, postmodern culture, love is simply what we call the relationship between two sets of genes using each other to reproduce. All the flowers, chocolate, lingerie…just natural selection marching on.
So why, if you read this article to your date tonight, would you get a slap in the face? Because, at our core, we know that love transcends self. It’s not just Christian tradition that asserts itself here. A quick review of popular films reveals the same theme. Consider the sacrifices in Band of Brothers, We Were Soldiers, The Dark Knight, Schindler’s List, even Terminator. On the girl side, think Titanic and Twilight. All involve putting your own desires and even life aside for the good of another.
Why this dichotomy? Why do we recognize that love SHOULD be selfless, yet remain trapped in self-interest?
I think it’s because we’ve mistaken human love for what it’s supposed to point to. Yes, love can deliver some of the best life has to offer: companionship, passion, understanding, pleasure, and the rest of the Valentine’s Day adjectives. But inevitably, something breaks down. Love fails, leaves us empty or broken. We become cynical, convinced that romance is just two people using each other, ready to move on as soon as the deal isn’t mutually profitable.
The fact that love cannot completely satisfy—even though it brings great joy—I think points to a far deeper reality. We were created for relationships, not just with each other, but with God. Only he offers the perfect love and faithfulness we crave (even though we may mock it). His love is unconditional, unearned, constant. Why he desires us is a mystery, but he does. We were made for his delight and to delight in him. And love is what he did to win us back. “This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers” (1 John 3:16).
Selfless love happens when we realize we are already loved perfectly. It’s not selfish to desire joy—the problem simply comes from looking in the wrong place. The best of human love offers a stunning picture of God. When we turn from the picture to the artist behind it, only then do we know Love.
As usual, C. S. Lewis says it best:
“We were made for God. Only by being in some respect like Him, only by being a manifestation of His beauty, lovingkindness, wisdom or goodness, has any earthly Beloved excited our love. It is not that we have loved them too much, but that we did not quite understand what we were loving. It is not that we shall be asked [in heaven] to turn from them, so dearly familiar, to a Stranger. When we see the face of God we shall know that we have always known it. He has been a party to, has made, sustained and moved moment by moment within, all our earthly experiences of innocent love. All that was true love in them was, even on earth, far more His than ours, and ours only because His.”
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Back to the Books (Bodley style)
Well, I'm back. To Oxford that is, if not to lectures (those start February 1).
Mom and I enjoyed a whirlwind two and a half weeks travelling around England. She was here between December 22 and January 13 and we certainly covered a lot of territory. It was amusing to count the number of transportation methods we used (many of them in a single day): bus, underground, train, taxi, private vehicle, and of course walking. Lots of walking.
My favorite part of the trip has to be the three days we spent in the Peak District. We came to the Peaks directly from the bustle of London (Boxing Day sale at Harrods...NOT a good idea). After a very long day of train delays and waiting for buses in the dark, I can't describe how good it was to arrive at Hartington Hall, a 17th century manor house turned youth hostel. The glow of the fireplaces through the window welcomed us in from the cold, and the home-like beauty of the house itself could only be matched by the surrounding countryside.
The hostel often reminded me of the Prancing Pony from Tolkien's Lord of the Rings. In stark contrast to our London hotel, where we spent the evenings cloistered in our room with the television, at Hartington we joined a merry group of wanderers clustered around fireplaces with books, games, and pints of ale in hand. Tolkien's words regarding Rivendell, The Last Homely House, perhaps best describe it: 'a perfect house, whether you like food or sleep, or story-telling or singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all.'
Our departure from Hartington was accompanied by many wishes to return. I still have much more exploring to do in the Peak District.
It seems unfair to skip over the rest of our English travels, but suffice it to say we both enjoyed the time immensely and were very sorry to say goodbye when it was time for her to fly back to Seattle.
Yesterday, though, I set off on a new adventure: to get my Bodleian Library card. Oxford University has kindly deigned to allow us Brookes students access to the reading rooms and 8 million volumes in the library's collection. Before obtaining the 'Bod Card,' that golden ticket of Oxford legitimacy (it also allows you access to certain colleges), I had to collect multiple signatures certifying that I was on a course of 'serious study' and solemnly read the Bodleian Oath before an admissions officer:
'I hereby undertake not to remove from the Library, or to mark, deface, or injure in any way, any volume, document, or other object belonging to it or in its custody; nor to bring into the Library or kindle therein any fire or flame, and not to smoke in the Library; and I promise to obey all rules of the Library.'
The admissions officer then reminded us that no one is allowed to take books out of the library, and that the last person who asked to do so had his head cut off (Charles I was beheaded in the English Civil War, but not by librarians). With this warning in mind, us four Brookes students took our newly minted cards to Radcliffe Camera, probably the most recognized and certainly most photographed reading room of the library.
Walking proudly past the 'No Visitors' sign, we had our bags searched and then headed up the massive spiral staircase. Once we reached the first level, we ascended a tightly-wound metal staircase (the kind every library should have) to the 'Upper Camera' gallery, where nothing separated us from the great dome but shelves and shelves of books.
I wish I could have taken a picture to show you the inside, but you'll just have to imagine. We settled down at desks and pulled out the reading material we brought along, dutifully taking notes and every once in awhile glancing up in delight. Picture a Little League baseball player suddenly set down in the middle of his favorite team's stadium. That's something like how I felt. Amazement I was actually there, and inspiration to tackle my studies with renewed enthusiasm.
It often seems most of my life is online. It's where I study, stay in touch with friends, and find out how to defrost chicken. Even though my course is digital publishing, I crave the the sense that my studies are grounded in something real, that they're part of a larger conversation and the rich history of books epitomized by the Bodleian.
That's why I'll be back many times this next semester. Laptop in hand.
Mom and I enjoyed a whirlwind two and a half weeks travelling around England. She was here between December 22 and January 13 and we certainly covered a lot of territory. It was amusing to count the number of transportation methods we used (many of them in a single day): bus, underground, train, taxi, private vehicle, and of course walking. Lots of walking.
My favorite part of the trip has to be the three days we spent in the Peak District. We came to the Peaks directly from the bustle of London (Boxing Day sale at Harrods...NOT a good idea). After a very long day of train delays and waiting for buses in the dark, I can't describe how good it was to arrive at Hartington Hall, a 17th century manor house turned youth hostel. The glow of the fireplaces through the window welcomed us in from the cold, and the home-like beauty of the house itself could only be matched by the surrounding countryside.
The hostel often reminded me of the Prancing Pony from Tolkien's Lord of the Rings. In stark contrast to our London hotel, where we spent the evenings cloistered in our room with the television, at Hartington we joined a merry group of wanderers clustered around fireplaces with books, games, and pints of ale in hand. Tolkien's words regarding Rivendell, The Last Homely House, perhaps best describe it: 'a perfect house, whether you like food or sleep, or story-telling or singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all.'
Our departure from Hartington was accompanied by many wishes to return. I still have much more exploring to do in the Peak District.
It seems unfair to skip over the rest of our English travels, but suffice it to say we both enjoyed the time immensely and were very sorry to say goodbye when it was time for her to fly back to Seattle.
Yesterday, though, I set off on a new adventure: to get my Bodleian Library card. Oxford University has kindly deigned to allow us Brookes students access to the reading rooms and 8 million volumes in the library's collection. Before obtaining the 'Bod Card,' that golden ticket of Oxford legitimacy (it also allows you access to certain colleges), I had to collect multiple signatures certifying that I was on a course of 'serious study' and solemnly read the Bodleian Oath before an admissions officer:
'I hereby undertake not to remove from the Library, or to mark, deface, or injure in any way, any volume, document, or other object belonging to it or in its custody; nor to bring into the Library or kindle therein any fire or flame, and not to smoke in the Library; and I promise to obey all rules of the Library.'
The admissions officer then reminded us that no one is allowed to take books out of the library, and that the last person who asked to do so had his head cut off (Charles I was beheaded in the English Civil War, but not by librarians). With this warning in mind, us four Brookes students took our newly minted cards to Radcliffe Camera, probably the most recognized and certainly most photographed reading room of the library.
Walking proudly past the 'No Visitors' sign, we had our bags searched and then headed up the massive spiral staircase. Once we reached the first level, we ascended a tightly-wound metal staircase (the kind every library should have) to the 'Upper Camera' gallery, where nothing separated us from the great dome but shelves and shelves of books.
I wish I could have taken a picture to show you the inside, but you'll just have to imagine. We settled down at desks and pulled out the reading material we brought along, dutifully taking notes and every once in awhile glancing up in delight. Picture a Little League baseball player suddenly set down in the middle of his favorite team's stadium. That's something like how I felt. Amazement I was actually there, and inspiration to tackle my studies with renewed enthusiasm.
It often seems most of my life is online. It's where I study, stay in touch with friends, and find out how to defrost chicken. Even though my course is digital publishing, I crave the the sense that my studies are grounded in something real, that they're part of a larger conversation and the rich history of books epitomized by the Bodleian.
That's why I'll be back many times this next semester. Laptop in hand.
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