A Dutiful Explanation

I feel obligated to write an illustrious and tantalizingly meaningful "first post," but whether it be my own admitted laziness, or an anomalous wave of humility, I will spare anyone reading this the exhausting thought of a self-aggrandizing, heart-felt, thought-provoking addition and simply state the simple matter.

I wrote this to be read, whether it be only by myself, or others.
I write this to remind my reader(s) of the kingdom of God, of our heavenly aspirations, and the eternal perspective from which (I believe) all Christians are consigned.

An explanation of this ledger's heading, "Miðgarðr" is as follows:
Due to my own fascination with mythology, particularly Norse mythology, as well as my own inclination for creative writing (and all its literary morsels like symbolism, metaphor, analogy, irony, yum yum yum), I have, in essence, stolen this word for my own purposes and aligned it with my own agenda in mind.* Miðgarðr is, in Norse mythology, that realm occupied by the creatures subject to the will of the gods. Those who, in vain efforts, struggle against their own mortality and dysfunction. That is, Miðgarðr, is the world of humans. It is literally the "Middle World." Simply put: it is our world.

I parallel with the scriptural passage found in John 15:19 (referenced in your address bar above after the "HTTP://"). It reads as follows:

"If you were of the world, the world would love its own; but because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, because of this the world hates you."

I select this to remind myself that though I am an occupant of Miðgarðr, that the futile struggle is left here. That I am not a creature of, nor am I bound by the peurile conflicts and rebellion against mortality like those trapped in Miðgarðr, but am chosen out of the world by an everlasting source. No longer am I the rebel or broken warrior in a struggle against the gods, but the one God is now my exclusive source and ally. My battle is now against the holds of Miðgarðr alone, which imprisons me only for a short while, and though it hate me, I will relish upon this realm the same story of the God and merciful sacrifice of His son that has so freed me. This effort is not in vain, but comes to a glorious conclusion:

A final seat in the hall of Valhalla, the heavenly feasting table that awaits the broken warrior.





*Whether this is a heavenly agenda remains to be seen, I'm crossing my fingers, though.