The Title Explained: Why my blog is called what it's called.

I've never really explained why my blog is called "Aspiring Spurgeon," which, I guess, is a huge over sight in the realm of the blogger types. So I'd like to take a couple posts and explain the name. First, however, I want to give you a quote from one of his sermons, then later we can jump into why a blog has a certain name.

"... The more vile a man is, the more eagerly I invite him to believe in Jesus. A sense of sin is all we have to look for as ministers. We preach to sinners; & let us know that a man will take the title of sinner to himself, & we then say to him, 'Look to Christ and you shall be saved.' 'Look,' this is all he demands of you, & even this he gives you. If you look to yourself you are damned; you are a vile miscreant, filled with loathsomeness, corrupt and corrupting others. But look here - see that man hanging on the cross? Do you behold his agonized head dropping meekly down upon his breast? Do you see his hands pierced and rent, & his blest feet, supporting the weight of his own frame, rent well-nigh in two with the cruel nails? Sinner! Do you hear him shriek, 'Eloi, Eloi, lama sabbacthani?' Do you hear him cry, 'It is finished?' Do you mark his head hang down in death? See you that side pierced with the spear, & the body taken from the cross? O, come you here! Those hands were nailed for you; those feet gushed gore for you; that side was opened wide for you; and you want to know how you can find mercy, there it is, 'Look!' 'Look unto me!' Look no longer to Moses. Look no longer to Sinai. Come you here and look to Calvary, to Calvary's victim, and to Joseph's grave. And look yonder to the man who near the throne sits with his Father crowned with light and immortality. 'Look, sinner,' he says this morning to you, 'Look unto me and be saved.' It is in this way God teaches that there is none besides him; because he makes us look entirely to him, and utterly away from ourselves."

I bet you're beginning to see why this preacher from one hundred years ago has made an impact on me. It's exciting to get to tell you how God used this man in my life so long after his death. 

Confession: This Semester

Before I get into this’n it’s been freeing to say, “I was wrong.” At the end of the summer I planned out the semester, 12 hours of classes didn’t seem too bad. I’d taken a couple grad level classes before in undergrad so it seemed like it’d be doable. Mom said it was too much – she was right, I wasn’t.

It’s safe to say this has been one of the most difficult semesters I’ve had. Sure some undergrad semesters were hard, and when finals came they were really gross, but this one is taking the cake in the realm of stress, tiredness and changes. There’ve been a few breakdowns.

Taking the workload from school, the job at the church, fostering a new relationship and the normal things of life all together has been rich and difficult. Rich because there’s much to learn and much to be humbly amazed by; difficult because I’m prideful and thought I knew it all and this has been three months of being wrong. (In some ways I feel like a raw blister - hyperaware of failures.)

Yet there are three thoughts, which have made this semester more bearable:

1) Bear your burdens well.

Sure they’re heavy and sure they’re daunting, but they’ve been given to you by God to bear, so bear them well. Be emboldened by the simple fact of knowing God – for his own reasons – planned this.

 2) It’s good to be carefree.

When the moments of relaxing come, take them. Whether they’re on Skype, a phone call, staring at the stars from my front porch, in a book, with the roommates, or holding a sleeping nephew whenever and wherever learn to relax in a moment. 

 3) (This has been the most difficult to remember) your biggest problem has been taken care of by Jesus.

This one is beautiful. At the end of any day you can lay your head down on your pillow and remember it’s not your education that saves you, your job that saves you, your interactions that save you, but it’s Jesus’ death on a Roman cross two-thousand years ago that has saved you.

Sure I don’t remember all of these all the time. But at the end of my life – whenever that may be – this semester will be just a simple dark place in the patchwork of life – the dark tiles of a mosaic without which the picture is lost. You see it’s a perspective thing seeing life from the vantage point of farther along.

After Vaca Thoughts

1) I don't want to be back cause it'd be safe to say it was one of the best weekends I've had in quite some time.

2) Saw real dolphins for the first time (not like on the TV but in the real life wild)! They were jumping out of the ocean!

3) Ate my way around a city.

4) Shook hands with many lovely people.

5) It's really hard to order a pizza when you a) have no idea which store to call, b) what the closest major intersection is and c) aren't from that city.

6) Indians, the PCA, and a small child who fancied Angry Birds where my travel companions on the flights home.

7) Jumped straight into life when I got off the plane, hellooo life.

8) 'We're the wretches in need of grace; we're the beggars in want of mercy..."

9) The Atlantic Ocean, it's big.

10) My cousin is probably one of the coolest guys I know. Fact.

Re-defining Hope

A couple weeks ago I wrote about re-defining goodness, perhaps there’s a series of posts inside this “redefining” theme – or not. There’s at least this one.

"Hope," it meant something different to me as a kid than it does now.

You see, now I bank all I am on a hope. Then I would’ve hoped to go to Disney World, or whatever.

We hope for eating Oreo’s for dessert and having a good day. We hope for finding the one we love and marrying them. We hope for children who grow healthy and strong. We hope to see a good movie. Does that demonstrate the diversity of the word? Hope. (I’m not a big political guy, but I do know Obama used hope as a campaign slogan in 2008.)

Yet if we redefine it then it ought to be understood something like this, hope: an earnest expectation.

There’s a reason the symbol for hope is an anchor. Because our hope is the foundation of faith (perhaps), it will not be put to shame. It is the earnest expectation that God will do what he has promised to do and save our souls. It’s knowledge of the factual reality that God will make all things new. It’s the feeling persuasion of spiritual things. It’s what we bet all of life and all of love and all of all against that God will be God and we will be men and this is for our good.

My anchor holds within the veil.

So hope isn’t just a want or desire for something to happen or change – no – it’s an expectation that it will change and it will happen. And the expectation is of such a fervently firm nature that we are willing to plan the rest of today (cause that’s all we’re semi-sure of) and dare to plan 80 years of life upon.

My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.