The Love Child of Java and the BCP

What would happen if the Book of Common Prayer collided with some rudimentary Java programming?

This:

A mashup of audio and text, I am finding this interactive form of the Book of Common Prayer highly useful. 

Of course, the program doesn't yet *look* pretty, but it's mostly functional. I still have to add the correct readings from the lectionary (which will require some serious database manipulation), but it's at the "useful" stage, which means I can use it for my personal prayers!

Some worship God through art. Others worship Him through writing. I worship Him by programming.

Soli Deo Gloria.

Reading a Stranger's Diary

The internet is a strange place. Some places are stranger than others, but in the last week I have been on a journey with a woman whom I know nothing about. Jennifer Harris Dault's baby died in her womb and Jennifer chronicles the pain, emotion, and grief of the miscarriage. As of today, her story is not over because her body has yet to expel the baby and where most people bury the pain of miscarriage deep within, Jennifer has chosen to share it and I have entered her word cautiously. Cautiously, because I was unprepared for the flood of emotion. Cautiously, because I have no similar experience with which I can relate. Cautiously, because this is a sacred place--a place of faith and loss and motherhood--and I am not sure what to do in this space.

You might argue this is no different than reading a book and entering that world, but I would argue there is a fundamental difference. This woman's story is unfolding in real time and I am entering her world as it unfolds. This is not the same as reading Anne Frank's diary because when reading her diary I am aware that those events have already happened. In this story, I enter Jennifer's pain as she is living it. I can pray for her because her story is ongoing. I am a part of her world in the present. She is my sister in Christ and we meet at the Father's throne. She doesn't know me and I don't know her, apart from a series of blog posts, but it doesn't matter because for this week at least, I have heard her voice and listened to what she has said and my heart breaks with her for baby Avelyn Grace.

Jennifer's eloquence and raw description of the darkness have moved me indescribably. Reading this woman's diary has been a rare privilege afforded by the internet and I am humbled and dare I say changed by it.

Our prayers are with you, Jennifer Harris Dault.