The Burnt-Over Blog: Oktober Fest

Monday, October 11, 2010

Oktober Fest

Last weekend was Oktober Fest in Nashville's own Germantown Historic District. Didn't even know there was one until now! It was a lot of fun especially as it was all free! They had a lot of fun stuff for the kids, like this huge blow up slide.

It was quite the climb.

Once Linc made it to the top, he was too scared to slide down. Finally some girls coaxed him down.

He wanted to go again but this time with Daddy.

They even had pony rides there, and for free! Sure beats paying, like at the fair!

Then they got to color their own puzzles.

Lincoln is getting better at taking pictures.

This is Bekah's attempt at taking a picture.

A beautiful Catholic church there in Germantown.

They had a ton of these blow-up things for the kids.

I can't remember the last time Bekah took a nap! We must really have worn her out to have her fall asleep so quickly and in such an awkward position!

Oktober Fest was awesome and definitely a keeper for next year!

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Doctrine and Covenants 163:10a-b

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I ain't never seen 'em, but my common sense tells me the Andes is foothills, and the Alps is for children to climb! Keep good care of your hair! These here is God's finest sculpturings! And there ain't no laws for the brave ones! And there ain't no asylums for the crazy ones! And there ain't no churches, except for this right here! And there ain't no priests excepting the birds. By God, I are a mountain man, and I'll live 'til an arrow or a bullet finds me. And then I'll leave my bones on this great map of the magnificent...

The Meaning of Christ on the Cross

At the heart of divine love is sacrifice-the willingness to be diminished so that another may be increased. This is the meaning of Christ on the cross. God, who could have insulated himself from pain, descended to earth, assumed the aspect of his children, and bore the greatest pain in his own person. Rather than hoard the heavenly feast for himself, he invites beggars to his table. He breaks bread with us and drinks from the cup our lips have touched. When he speaks to us, it is no longer from a great white throne, centered in a vortex of light, surrounded by celestial griffins, warding off the unwashed. He speaks to us eye to eye, from a traitor’s gibbet, with his blood and sweat and shame upon him for all to see, and with his wounds forever open. He comes not as king, but as slave. He comes not as judge, but as accused. He comes not as patriarch, but as bastard. He comes not to punish us, but to let us punish him. He does not ask us to love him until we are first certain that he loves us. He is the great failure who saves us from our success. He is the great fool who spares us from our wisdom. He is the rejected lover who will not, in turn, reject his love. He is a prophet without honor, a citizen of a despised nation, a poor relation, an unwanted guest. He is the voice of one crying in the wilderness of every human heart. He is the God of grief and sorrow who is the joy of our desiring. He is utterly good because he loves us in our sins and imperfections, because he freely made himself equal to us, and because he freely opened the way whereby we may be made equal to him.

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