Lost in the Eternity of the Here and Now

Happiness

2010-04-16T16:27:00.004-06:00

Our Christianity tends to focus on things that really have nothing to do with Christianity at all. We hear sermons and bible studies that tell us that God is interested in you, that He wants to know you, and that He wants to bless you. In essence, the focus is taken away from the namesake of Christianity (the Christ) and shifted to the most insignificant of objects in the equation: us. God is not the focus, you are. God loves YOU. God wants to know YOU. YOU are important to God. Instead of acknowledging the biblical truth of God's love for humanity and its necessary conclusion that God loves sinful men for his OWN glory, the message is shifted from God's valuing of Himself through His love for us, to simply God's love for us. The message is insidious. And it's everywhere.

One of the ways this plays out, at least as I've seen it, is the belief that God wants us to be happy. Consider that in nearly 2000 years of this religion, no culture has so insisted on the happiness and contentedness of the individual as much as American Christianity. We have seeker-sensitive services geared toward making people feel comfortable. We offer watered-down Bible studies for fear of the "deeper" things of God scaring away potential converts (or, God help us, current converts). But lest you think this is something to charge the Willowcreeks of the world only, I want you to stop and take an honest look at your own conception of God.

If you're anything like me, you were taught (at least implicitly) that because God loves you, He wants to bless you. If you do His will, He will reward you. If you do not do His will, then perhaps the bad things that are happening in your life are a message from God that He wants you to turn from those bad things. For the philosophers out there, this is generally referred to as the Retribution Principle. There are two ways to look at the Retribution Principle. First is that if you do evil, you will suffer. The biblical proof-texts for this abound, never mind that the promises of suffering for disobedience were part of the covenant between God and Israel, a distinct people from you and I (unless you happen to be Jewish). To apply those promises to us is just bad hermeneutics and bad interpretation. If I do evil, will I suffer? Maybe. Or maybe, just maybe, I will rape, pillage and plunder my filthy little heart out, living a life of reprobation and die wealthy and in ease. I question the biblical warrant for assuming that bad action X has any direct correlation to bad consequence Y, such that X -> Y. Just because I do X (the bad action) does not mean that I will reap Y (the bad circumstance). Conversely, just because Y is happening, there is no reason to assume an X (perhaps unknown to me). Ask Job, as this is one of the major themes of the book.

Job does righteous things and is a man set apart. However, when bad things start to happen, he stands firm and asks why bad things are happening. He has done no evil deserving of the fate that has set upon him. His moronic friends continually try to convince him that he has sinned. Surely his sin is the reason that God is punishing him. However, in the end, we see that Job's friends have no leg to stand on, for even God pronounced Job's innocence of covenant transgression early on. Why did bad things happen to Job? Did he do evil in God's eyes? Nope. It was not for Job to demand that answer, nor did God ever really explain why bad things came upon him. From Job's point of view, things just happened that way, and God is under no obligation to tell him anything as to the why.

But God is a God of love you say. He wants to bless his children. He wants them to be happy. After all, are we not supposed to delight ourselves in the Lord? Are we not to be joyful? Are we not supposed to be happy? Do you think the believing remnant cast into Babylonian exile was "happy" about it? Do you think the poor man Lazarus was happy about being poor and destitute and dying like that? Do you think first century Christians were "happy" about the prospect of being fodder for the pagan machine of Rome? What makes you think God has any concern about your happiness? Things aren't going well in your life? Join the club. Wish things were better? Who doesn't? Does God care about your happiness? I don't know...

I once spoke to a woman who was planning to leave her husband. She was no longer happy in the marriage. She knew that divorce was wrong, but surely God wanted her to be happy. After all, He is a God of love; how could he ask her to remain in an unsatisfying marriage? I would like to put forth that God does not care in the slightest about your happiness. You will not find the command of God to be happy as God is happy. No, you see the command to be holy, even as HE is holy. Does God want you to be happy? Maybe. Does God want you to be holy? With infinite, absolute certainty. If you have to pick between the two, which do you pick? If you find yourself in the situation where you can choose to make yourself happy, to be content, versus being holy, if you're anything like me, you hold your head in shame at the number of times you've chosen happy.

"Seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness..." Find fulfillment, hope, joy, even happiness! in the surety of the promise of the resurrection of the dead into the new life to which we will be raised, to which we have already been raised in Christ, the firstborn from the dead. In light of that, let us live like we believe it. Let THAT be our happiness.

Desperate Cry of the Sinful Man

2010-04-06T20:30:00.002-06:00

Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here's my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.

-Come Thou Fount, Robert Robinson. 1757.

...then there was darkness

2010-03-25T16:29:00.002-06:00

Staring up into the darkness he could see the faint glimmer of moonlight as it shimmered along the surface of the waters above, its pale glow distant and obscured by the murky haze that seemed to surround the light, to press in on it from all sides until it was a wonder that the oppressive darkness did not swallow even that last bit of light. His hand outstretched before him seemed something apart from him, as if it did not belong to him, was not his own. It moved back and forth, flowing with the gentle currents around him, briefly casting shadows across his eyes as it blocked the pale, but distant light above. There were no sounds here, no voices, not even his own. Even his thoughts seemed distant and muted. Silence surrounded him even more that the cold water, coldness that he no longer felt, pressing in on him from every side. No sound. No feeling. There was only that eerie light. Something about the light tugged at his memory. There was something familiar about it. He could remember that light, but it was so much brighter before. It was supposed to be warm. That was it. It was supposed to be warm.

It was early in the morning. The sun had not yet risen, but he was already up and about. He had set his alarm for 5 o’clock so he could get a head start on the day. He had been looking forward to this day all week. All week long he sat in an office that felt like a prison as often as not. The sedate walls, painted in soft pastels so as to be pleasing to the eye, were the type of thing that could make a person crazy. But today was different. Today he was leaving that behind, even if only for a few hours. Today he would take his boat out onto the waters and enjoy a day of sailing. Today he would escape the drudgery of his daily life, escape the confines of those nauseating colors and immerse himself in the vibrant colors of nature as only the open waters could paint. That was why he was up so early. There was nothing so wonderful as a sunrise on the horizon, surrounded by nothing but the water in every direction. That was freedom. That was what he looked forward to today.

It did not take long to prepare the boat, a 20 foot day-sailer that he had purchased just a few months back. Though the boat was new, he had been sailing since he was a teenager. His grandfather had taught him everything he knew about sailing. With a wry grin, he remembered when the idea of sailing had seemed old fashioned and boring, along with his grandfather. He had been so engrossed in the world of his video games as a teenager that the thought that anything else might exist beyond the pale glow of the gaming screen seemed ludicrous. He could not help but laugh at the silly child he had been. Luckily, his grandfather had not been the kind of man that you said no to. He had dragged him out onto the water one morning not much unlike this morning, casting off from the dock while the sun was still sleeping beneath the distant horizon. Even the seagulls were not awake yet as he maneuvered the boat past the rows of other boats, each one tied snugly in their slips. The faint sound of the water lapping against the sides of the hull as he motored out into the harbor was like music in his ears.

There was already a decent breeze picking up in the predawn twilight. Once past the other boats and out into the empty harbor, he killed the engine and just sat for a moment looking up into the sky. The stars were still out, though the light pollution from the small port town behind him obscured all but the most brilliant. Still, it was a peaceful view. Just him and the stars. He smiled as he craned his neck to look into the heavens, remembering his grandfather pointing out the constellations used for navigation, used way back when computerized equipment and compasses had not even been imagined. Already the sky was turning a lighter shade of dark, a pale hint of light starting to edge over the horizon in the eastern sky. With a content sigh he set about raising the main sail which rippled in the breeze as he hoisted it up the mast using a hand crank nearby. Adjusting another crank that controlled the boom, the sail caught full of the breeze and went taut as it swelled outward and the boat surged forward toward the open waters.

The gentle swaying motion as the boat rose and fell along the ocean swells made some people seasick. Not him. With his hands on the wheel he closed his eyes, tilting his head back and inhaled deeply. The smell of the ocean was magnificent, fresh and clean, tinged with salt. A faint mist of seawater suffused the air, dampening his face, occasionally splashing as the boat hit the bottom of a swell. The breeze whipped by him carrying with it the scent of the wide open expanse before him. The sound of the wind catching the sail, of the water flowing by, filled his ears. Soft clouds stretched out across the sky, a sky which was quickly growing lighter off to his side, promising a grand display once the sun broke. Looking back he could no longer see the land behind him. Smiling to himself he turned slowly, just taking in the freedom into which he had sailed. There was nothing here, just him and the ocean. Dropping the sail he let the boat glide to a halt, now bobbing with the gentle swells, and dropped the anchor. Seating himself on a cushion he kicked his feet up and waited for the sun to rise.

The sun, much like him, was in no hurry. It would get where it was going when it got there. Stars began to disappear as the dark twilight faded to a light gray. And before long, the gray began to reveal soft blues and pinks that seemed to stretch out from the distant horizon. The soft clouds reflected the predawn light like something out a fairytale or a painting. The blue and pink pastels steadily grew in intensity until the entire sky seemed to come alive under the deft brush of a master painter. The pink became a brilliant red that refused to sleep any longer. The sky was a living thing now, a symphony in blues and reds and pinks, slowly building up to its crescendo. Just then, when it seemed that all the color in the world had been poured out before him, the sun broke the horizon like a conquering hero, entering the praise of the song being played out before him. Golden rays shot forth in triumph, glittering on the surface of the water, rushing forward on the water, washing over him. The clouds above echoed the golden song being played out on the rippling water as golden tendrils spidered across the sky, transforming the once red and pink painting into a blinding thing of golden radiance. The clouds looked like the pebbles at the bottom of a crystal clear stream, only painted in brilliant gold from horizon to horizon. He let the warmth of the rising sun wash over him, taking in every bit of its heat. Tears welled up in his eyes. He had never seen anything so amazing. Each sunrise was unique, special. Each one had the power to evoke this feeling, and never the same one twice. Those were his grandfather’s words, etched in his memory and upon his heart - words that seemed spoken only yesterday, and at the same time, spoken so long ago. Sometimes he could hardly remember the sound of his grandfather’s voice, but not so here. Here his grandfather spoke clearly, as if still sitting next to him. As he sat there watching, the golden chorus faded back to the reds, and soon even the reds faded, revealing a deep blue sky streaked with white clouds.

Raising the anchor and the main sail, he glided on after the sun has finished its morning song. Now overhead, the sun had taken the chill from the air so that the wind rushing by him was pleasant instead of cold. He was not sure where he was going, and honestly, it did not matter. He had the entire day to go as he pleased, and he was happy to let the wind take him where it would. Though he was alone, he could hear the voices of his friends, his family. They enjoyed coming with him on days like this. But today it was just him and his boat. Him and the water. The day was perfect.

By mid-afternoon he noticed that the wind began to pick up. Clouds were moving in, and moving quickly. The warmth that he had enjoyed not so long ago became nothing more than a pleasant memory. In the distance he could see dark clouds forming. They loomed menacingly on the horizon, a gray sheen between them and the water, evidence of heavy rains. The wind, now blowing from that direction, carried the faint smell of rain. Even as he turned the boat around and started heading back to the shore, he knew there was no way he would outrun the storm. The breeze was strong now, and the gale whispered threats in his ear even as the ocean began to swell with anger. The sky grew dark, both with the return of twilight and the clouds rushing in, as ominous thunder pealed overhead while lightning fingered across the sky above. Gone was the perfect day and tranquil breeze, replaced by a rage that had been welling up beneath the surface, now breaking forth in all its fury. The swells, once pleasant, now sent the small boat rushing up and down their steep inclines with reckless abandon. Water splashed up over the bow, more than a gentle spray. Quickly lowering the main sail, he started the engine, hoping that maybe he could outrun the worst of it. The howling wind played tricks on him, as if faint voices could be heard on the raging gales. He was glad he was alone now. Best that no one else was here to face this with him. Best that… Suddenly everything lurched forward and there was a loud snapping sound.

He was lying down. That didn’t make sense. Water was streaming over his face and wiping it away did little to help him see. The light was nearly choked out in the deluge and tumultuous clouds that roiled overhead. Lightning that left streaks of purple in his vision still stabbed across the sky as if to glory in its ability to have destroyed the tranquility of the morning. Sitting up in a daze, one hand to steady himself, one against his head, he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. One moment he had been at the helm, the next sprawled out on the short deck several paces forward. His safety strap must have snapped as he flew forward from the cockpit where it should have held him securely. The small craft still rolled wildly with the swell of the waves, and he had to grab wildly at the railing to keep from being hauled over the side as the water rushed over the top of the deck. Determined, his grip tight on the rail, he began to make his way back to the cockpit. He would be safe if only he could make it back. A noise behind him was the only warning he had, turning just in time to see the now unsecured boom rushing toward his face. Then darkness.

Darkness and a pale light above. He vaguely remembered coming to as he hit the cold water. He remembered losing sight of the boat as it sped away in that darkness, broken only by the brief flashes of lightning. He remembered flailing wildly to keep afloat in the storm, and failing to stay above the water more often than not. The salt water stung his eyes and burned as he tried to swallow more than he inhaled. He had struggled for as long as he could, even as he gasped for each breath, even as he had known it was pointless. His limbs grew numb and felt like jelly from the effort. He could vaguely remember the storm going as quickly as it had come. One moment the skies had dumped their fury on him, the next the clouds had parted, revealing a pale moon in a silent sky. But all that came and went through his mind in a blur now. The moments rushed together and it was hard to make sense of anything. His mind was growing sluggish. He no longer heard the sound of the ocean, even from underwater. His own heartbeat seemed far away, just like his thoughts, just like the pale moon above, still rippling with the surface above, but now even farther away as he continued to sink into the depths. There was no fight left in him. His eyes fixed themselves on the light above. Even the cold of the water was a distant thing now. His eyes stung, briefly, though whether from tears or the salt water, he could not say. It was so quiet here. Alone. But that was alright. There was the darkness. He was sure there was still light, somewhere in the distance. There was still… hope? There was still… What was there still? What was hope? What…

Then there was darkness. The pale light was forgotten, lost in the depths, lost beneath the surface now calm. There was only darkness. Cold, silent darkness.

Paul: from a man to a man of faith

2010-03-16T22:01:00.005-06:00

It’s easy to look at the New Testament writers and hold them in a certain high regard. After all, these men actually walked around with Jesus Christ, in the flesh. These men saw his miracles, performed countless times. These men’s words became scripture, being inspired of God to write about this Jesus. And yet, when you get past all the hype, past all of the awe, the reverence that we often have for these men, we realize that they are indeed just that: men. It is hard, at least for me, to think of Peter as being just a man. After all, it’s Peter! This is the guy who walked on water. This is the guy who spoke out on Pentecost and three thousand people believed in Jesus! But this is also the guy who began to sink, for his lack of faith. This is the guy who denied Jesus three times. Peter was just a man; flawed and utterly human. What changed for him? A man, afraid for his life on that fateful night, but a mere fifty days later stands up and proclaims boldly that not only did he believe that Jesus was the Christ, but that the thousands of Jewish men and women around him were guilty of his blood, at great risk to his own life! What changed? How did he get to be that man, willing to forsake all for this simple message? One word. Resurrection.

I think about Paul, too. Certainly, we do not know much about the man, but we see enough. Paul was a man among men in the Jewish society. He was leagues ahead of his contemporaries, without equal in his zeal for his ancestral traditions. He was an ascending student of Gamaliel, a Jew among Jews. His contemporaries looked to him for approval, and received it as they assaulted those blaspheming apostates, those who followed “The Way.” Again, we do not see much about Paul, only brief glimpses of the man; momentary snapshots, before and after pictures, if you will. One day he’s on his way to Damascus to kill him some blasphemers, and the next moment he gets knocked on his backside, seeing a vision of Christ. That one moment changed his life forever. He became the chief voice of the gospel message to the Gentile world, and by extension, you and I. He became a pariah, an exile among his own people, all for the sake of this simple message. How did he get to be that man? One word. Resurrection.

Sometimes I think about what it must have been like for these men, what their transformation from their old life to the new must have been like. Take Paul for example. I am of the persuasion that he was likely married, may have even had children. And yet, there is no mention of them, not once. Certainly, that could be because he remained celibate his entire life. But, assuming he did have a wife, it seems more likely that she disowned him completely. In fact, we never once hear about Paul’s family after conversion; nor that of any of the other apostles. Their message was one of conflict, a wedge driven between husband and wife, father and son, brother and brother. They were as dead men to those who would not believe, cast out and forgotten. Imagine that. Imagine the pain of being abandoned by those you love, who love you, for the sake of this simple message. Imagine having the entire world at your fingertips, as an aspiring young Jew, only to have every last vestige of hope torn away from you. Your family: gone. Your dreams: gone. Your reputation: gone. We do not have much in the way of a record of Paul’s life imediately after conversion. We know that he goes about preaching the gospel shortly after his conversion, for a period of three years. We know that he then returns home for another fourteen (Galatians 1-2). While this is certainly never a topic that the Bible feels the need to address, it is one that consumes my thoughts of late. What must those fourteen years have been like for Paul as he realized that his life as he knew it was over? Old friends would no longer even talk to him, or if they did, it was to insult and call him down. His family, perhaps even a wife and children, disowning him as an outcast. All his education, seemingly for naught. His hope of life, of the very promises of God, shattered; replaced with a person, Jesus Christ.

The next time we see Paul, we see him with Barnabas. There is never any detailed mention of those things that he left behind, only the faint shadows that surely exist from every man’s past; shadows and dust of a life now over. We look at the man he was prior to coming to the knowledge of the resurrected Christ, and we look at the man after. Before, a murderous villain opposing the very Son of God; while after, a man whose only hope rests in the risen Christ. Just consider a few passages that highlight this change. Consider a man who has so fully cast his lot in with this Jesus that he can honestly say:

“20I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death. 21For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. 22If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labor for me. Yet what shall I choose? I do not know! 23I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far; 24but it is more necessary for you that I remain in the body.” Philippians 1:20-24

Think about that! We read these words and we agree to them like they are some mental proposition with which we should concur, but never actually reading these words, realizing that these are the words of a broken man, a man whose life has been so altered by his belief in the risen Christ that he honestly says that death is gain (and believed it!), for death will see him with Christ! No man comes to that place lightly, without having every last hope, save Christ alone, methodically ripped away from him over the years. But, this is exactly the man we see in Paul, a man who left behind his life, including his very identity, and found another.

“5circumcised the eighth day, of the nation of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; as to the Law, a Pharisee; 6as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to the righteousness which is in the Law, found blameless. 7But whatever things were gain to me, those things I have counted as loss for the sake of Christ. 8More than that, I count all things to be loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them but rubbish so that I may gain Christ, 9and may be found in Him, not having a righteousness of my own derived from the Law, but that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness which comes from God on the basis of faith, 10that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death; 11in order that I may attain to the resurrection from the dead.” Philippians 3:5-11

Notice he calls his entire life rubbish. I’m not sure that translation carries the correct imagery for that word. We think of rubbish as trash, or refuse. This word can also mean dung. So, without being too vulgar, perhaps it might be fair to say that Paul saw his entire life prior to Christ as a nice, big, steaming pile of crap; of zero value; rank and malodorous; buzzing with the flies in a midden heap. How does one come to a place where they can look at their entire life, all the things in which they once placed their hopes and dreams, their security, their very identity, and say it is nothing more than a pile of crap? It surely does not come easily, or quickly. For Paul, it may have taken those fourteen+ years, during which time he divorced himself from a life now pointless. During that time, he realized that the only thing of true value was Christ, and the hope of his Kingdom. Because of that hope, it did not matter what condition of life he found himself in; he was content (Philippians 4:12, the context for the oft-misquoted 4:13 “I can do all things through Him who strengthens me”).

In the end, God had so thoroughly removed Paul’s hope of life now that he wrote that he was ready to go.

“6For I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure has come. 7I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith; 8in the future there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day; and not only to me, but also to all who have loved His appearing.” 2 Timothy 4:6-8

Paul’s was a life transformed by the resurrection of Christ. If Christ be not raised, then “let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die.” (1 Corinthians 15:32) And yet, that last phrase is exactly what we are taught to do in our churches. At least, that is what I was taught. Sure, it was not explicit, but the message was the same. I long for the kind of faith that Paul had, that Peter had; a faith in the resurrection, so sure, so solid, that life itself is singular in purpose. But such a belief does not come easy. A life that you cherish is hard to give up if you do not really believe that what Christ offers is better; that the resurrection and the Kingdom are worth pursuing without hesitation.

“26If anyone comes to Me, and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be My disciple. 27whoever does not carry his own cross and come after Me cannot be My disciple. 28For which one of you, when he wants to build a tower, does not first sit down and calculate the cost to see if he has enough to complete it? 29Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who observe it begin to ridicule him, 30saying, 'This man began to build and was not able to finish.' 31Or what king, when he sets out to meet another king in battle, will not first sit down and consider whether he is strong enough with ten thousand men to encounter the one coming against him with twenty thousand? 32Or else, while the other is still far away, he sends a delegation and asks for terms of peace. 33So then, none of you can be My disciple who does not give up all his own possessions. ” Luke 14:26-33

Maybe these words of Jesus are more than a kind admonition to make sure Jesus is number one in your life; a life filled with the pursuit of money, family, activities, church programs, Bible studies; oh, and Jesus, too. Maybe these words show the absolute nature of that desire required of us, the release of all hope and dreams bound to this world, instead wholly casting our lot with this Jesus, and his gospel message. Oh, but the pain necessary to bring that about, to convince us that our lives and everything we value are nothing more than a pile of **** compared to the unsurpassing value of the Kingdom of God... Only God can accomplish that kind of transformation of heart and mind. But be forewarned. The cost is great.

Do we dare ask?

Dare we not?

Nolan's Cheddar

2010-02-19T18:43:00.002-06:00

I stumbled across this fake commercial, made just for the heck of it, through the mighty blogosphere. I love it!

On Being a Theologian of the Cross by Gerhard Forde

2010-02-15T19:47:00.005-06:00

Forde, Gerhard O. On Being a Theologian of the Cross: Reflections on Luther’s Heidelberg Disputation, 1518. Kindle Edition. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1997.

It is rare that I come across a book which is so well written and complete that I find it difficult to offer valid criticism. Forde’s book elicited non-stop cheers from cover to cover. Much of this can be attributed to Martin Luther’s argument which is the springboard from which Forde leaps. Herein I will evaluate Forde’s success in relation to his stated goals and purposes for writing this book. As with any book, Forde says that there was a void that his work would fill. Where other works exist that examine the Heidelberg Confession, all are deeply couched in the language and the controversy of Luther’s day such that without a deep knowledge of both, the reader would likely be lost. Forde has certainly fulfilled this primary goal. His work is wonderfully brief and uses language easily understandable to Western laymen while remaining true to the Confession’s content and purpose. He considers this an introduction to Luther’s ideas, though if the reader is so inclined, he offers other, more in-depth works for the reader to pursue (78). Every author certainly believes he fills a certain void, otherwise he would not write in the first place. It is the nature of that void upon which I will spend the rest of this review.

One of Forde’s primary reasons for writing is to solidify the language of Theology (48). The “theologian of glory,” the antagonist throughout, is required to modify language in order to make Christianity more palatable, easier to swallow. He calls what is good bad, and what is bad good. In essence, he refuses to say what a thing is. Forde shows how Luther’s argument, using carefully chosen words, destroys the sentimental language of victimization and sentimentalization (44). The heart of the language debate centers on this idea of calling a thing what it is, which is Thesis 21 of the Confession. The clarification in language becomes apparent quickly. In speaking of the works of men, Forde rightly points out that a dead work is much worse than a deadly work (555). Though a subtle point, this concept is important for teachers to consider. Offering men a road to God paved with works implies that works are good, whereas the Bible makes clear that men are saved from their dead works (Titus 3:5). The theologian of glory tells men that their works are deadly, but not dead. Luther destroys this idea by calling all works by mortal men evil, and thus mortal. Their works are not merely deadly, but fully dead. Coming to the cross as the means by which to accomplish works merely continues the false idea that works can be good and meritorious. This is a very helpful reminder for us to not turn the cross into a means to an end, that is, the means by which we are enabled to keep the Law unto salvation (830). However, there are times when Luther’s language seems to get confusing, which goes counter to Forde’s goal; but he is not remiss to address the problem.

Forde explains what Luther means when he speaks of “despair” negatively in Thesis 17, but as positive, indeed necessary, in Thesis 18. His distinction is helpful wherein the former “despair” speaks of that which a person feels when he constantly tries to measure up, making himself acceptable in God’s eyes by his actions. This leads to ultimate despair, for the sinner is never able, even after regeneration, to uphold the perfect Law of God (786). However, the believer must come to utter despair of his own ability to merit the favor of God, which then points him to the grace of Christ (788). Forde acknowledges this is a very subtle distinction, but one that highlights the great divide between the theology of glory versus that of the cross. Ultimate despair, which leads to death, is firmly rooted in the theologian of glory insisting that evil is in fact good.

Forde believes that the “problem of evil” as discussed in modern philosophical debates is firmly rooted in the language of the theology of glory (951). By equating suffering with evil they inevitably group all suffering together. Again, the point is subtle, but Forde rightly argues that not all suffering is evil. The chief example of which is the work of Jesus on the cross; however, he is quick to offer other sources of suffering which are not evil, including love, beauty, children, and everyday life (957-970). Thus, the theologian of glory in his attempt to absolve God as the cause of any suffering denies the very act by which men can be saved, namely the God-wrought suffering of the Christ. Such an observation is quite damning and reminds us to keep a careful reign on our language when discussing God, man, and the cross. In addition to Christ’s suffering, it is through suffering that men are able to know and speak the truth (994). Not all suffering is evil. However, even Forde is not above reproach in his own use of language.

This slight infraction is the only inconsistency in language I noted, but given his explicit goal of being a guardian of language, it is necessary that it be highlighted. Early on Forde calls the “Fall” an unbiblical notion, wherein he defines the “Fall” as the myth of the exiled soul, trapped in the decaying world of physicality, seeking its return to glory (148-153). However, later in reflection on the bondage of the will he says that such reflection allows us to “see into the depths of fallenness,” (626). It seems that Forde rejects the “Fall” as being one of the “holy,” spiritual soul trapped in the “wicked” flesh (seemingly a form of Gnosticism), but rightly affirms the bondage of the will of men in their natural state. He could certainly be more consistent with his stated goal by offering an explicit definition of fallenness, rather than leaving the reader to infer his meaning. Regardless of this singular omission, Forde makes an excellent point that the careful usage of language is key to a right understanding of the Gospel and conveyance of that understanding to others.

Forde is quite insistent, as Luther certainly was in the Confession, that one’s language is of utmost importance. That language allows the theologian of the cross to speak correctly concerning the work of God in salvation. This brings to light the most important of Forde’s goals, that of conveying the truths of the Confession to modern Christians. Forde uses the illustration of two great pillars: on the left the Law of God, and on the right, the love of God (307). For the theologian of glory, such a separation is unthinkable, for he surely thinks that the Law was given to man as a means by which to attain the favor of God by his faithful obedience thereto. However, as Luther moves through the disputation, it becomes exceedingly clear that the two are as far from one another as can possibly be, and that only God can move men from one side to the other. This is of paramount consequence for modern Christians. There are countless churches where pastors preach this demonic doctrine of grace plus works. If accused and pressed, they surely deny it, for they deny the theology of glory. However, Forde astutely observes that by shifting the focus onto abstract concepts like “theology,” those who hold to grace plus works are able to shift blame from themselves, away from their own hearts of death, and accuse an ephemeral enemy (921). However, it is the man, the teacher, the theologian that is ultimately the problem. Thus, Forde provides a sober reminder to his readers, teachers and preachers many of them, that they must always be on alert against becoming theologians of glory. It is a plague, a cancer that originates within the dead hearts of men that seeks to justify oneself by his own works. It has always been the case, though, when man is confronted with his sin. Adam, when confronted by God justified himself in his own eyes, diverting blame to woman, and worse, to God himself. That is one place this book is relentless. It does not allow us to look away from our sin. Instead of the cross being a means by which we attain to perfection, and thereby becoming a mere means to an end; rather, we are forced to look at the very best we have to offer, all our works of supposed goodness, and confess before the broken body of the Christ, broken by God for us, that it was our works that brought Him there. And that work on the cross, though terrible, gut-wrenching, and awful to behold, was a good and gracious act of God. The cross was not evil, but rather it is the mirror by which we see the evil that dwells within. There is no coming to the cross in pride that I have done a mighty thing, even in my belief in its ability to save me, but rather I am rightly broken, cut down and destroyed before the blatant fact that I am death; or rather, that Christ took on my death that I might live, and even that life that I now live, it is entirely by faith in Him who gave himself up for me (Gal. 2:20).

Luther’s disputation seems flawless in its exacting and brutal destruction of the last vestiges of self justification within a heart suffused with sin. Forde does an excellent job bringing to light a great and much needed message for the modern believer. It is very easy for me to look at my works and stand with chest puffed out, head held high, proclaiming that, even by the power of God, I have run the race and proved myself true. Forde, and indeed all theologians of the cross, utterly reject such claims of hubris and instead, with grips of iron logic and the conviction of God, drag us before the cross and force us to gaze upon that which our hubris has ultimately wrought. If only we as teachers and preachers of God’s Word could ever keep before us the horror of our sin, the theology of glory might once and for all be put to death, that Christ might be glorified all in all.

Thank you Mark Salomon

2010-02-10T22:17:00.002-06:00

To Mark Saloman, formerly of the band Stavesacre:

You will probably never read this, but this seems as good a place to send this as any... I want to thank you for your music, from the bottom of my heart. Your lyrics and voice capture a passion that is lacking from most of your contemporaries. You find a way to speak to the depths of the human soul through lyrics that somehow frame raw emotion in coherent thoughts. You somehow blend hopelessness and self destruction with a glimmer of hope, however faint. Your words are veiled in abstraction that allows each of us to connect in whatever season of life we find ourselves in. More than just hearing these songs, we live them. Thank you Mark, and all of Stavesacre, for your music.

The entire album "Speakeasy" is magnificent, and it is impossible for me to pick the very best part to share here.

This is an excerpt from Rivers Underneath:

Somehow stumbled my way home,
Stood inside the doorway...
Staring blind through rooms I knew were missing more than the paintings on the walls
It's hard to call this home,
I'm more than just alone,
Have I been passed by and left behind again?

I feel it pulling me...
It's heavy...

No desire to wonder why the answers have so long escaped me,
But the arms are open wide, to rivers underneath the surface,
Follow with the tide, ease into the cooler water;
Farewell and all goodbyes, to the shoreline...

I'll see you when I see you...

Silhouette against the storm,
Romantic standing at the edge.
A mystery, now a tragedy,
Left to calloused mourners long grown cold.
His story goes untold,
And no one ever knows,
It just disappears, beneath the fears he carried...

And I feel them pulling me... Heavy.

No desire to wonder why the answers have so long escaped me,
But the arms are open wide, to rivers underneath the surface,
Follow with the tide, ease into the cooler water;
Farewell and all goodbyes, to the shoreline...

Remember when we...?
Did you see that...?
Don't forget this moment ever
We belong
this is home
I've missed you so
For now and always
I cannot recall
My life before this

I feel it pulling me... It's heavy.

No desire to wonder why the answers have so long escaped me,
But the arms are open wide, to rivers underneath the surface,
Follow with the tide, ease into the cooler water;
Farewell and all goodbyes, to the shoreline...

I'll see you when I see you...
I'll see you when I see you...

Beautiful Destruction

2010-02-06T19:14:00.003-06:00

There is something beautiful about fire. The way it moves, the way it dances against the black of a cold winter night. Its warmth flows into you, promising comfort, but ever warning you to keep your distance. Never too close, lest it prove you the fool... It is mesmerizing. It flows back and forth, dancing without a care in the world, swaying with the currents of destruction, each flame licking away one more bit of what once remained, painting it into the oblivion of its gentile caress. It glides across the wood, feeding, breathing, moving, living. It is alive. It is beautiful. Beautiful destruction.

Duty

2010-02-01T21:54:00.002-06:00

From the movie Gladiator (2000):

Maximus: You don't find it hard to do your duty?
Cicero: Sometimes I do what I want to do. The rest of the time, I do what I have to.

Being a slave is not always fun. But rather than entertaining delusions of grandeur, a good slave knows his place and serves, because he knows he must.

Christian rights

2010-01-17T22:49:00.001-06:00

As Americans, we have certain rights. We are guaranteed the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. The framers of our country said these rights are endowed to every man by his creator. These rights are as much his natural possession as his own thoughts. As a gift from God, to the individual, no one but God has the right to take them from us. That’s what they meant by “inalienable.” I can understand the motivation behind their words. Living under the oppressive rule of a dictator across an ocean, one with supreme authority, is good enough reason for their statement of rights. However, this idea of rights poses some trouble for me.

As Americans, we have been taught all our lives about our rights; about those things which belong to us, those things that cannot be taken away. So much of our identity has been framed by this perception, that we deserve, that as unique and special people, our rights entitle us to things. This perception is so integral a part of our identities that it permeates everything we think and do. We even approach Christianity in terms of our rights.

How many sermons have we all heard on any number of patriotic weekends telling us about our rights, telling us that we are a nation founded on Christian principles and as such, are now granted certain rights. Further, we must fight to protect those rights. We must ally ourselves to political parties to ensure those rights, whether of the individual, or of the masses, it doesn’t matter. We are told to pray for our nation, our leaders, that God would restore America to her rightful place. We are encouraged to get involved and make our voices heard, so that we can ensure our rights. The point is we are taught from childhood to demand our rights. But even a cursory look at the Bible has me questioning this entire philosophy.

What rights does the Bible afford men? The right to life? Ask the Hebrew mother of the Northern kingdom, likely no older than her mid-teens, who watched helplessly as the Assyrian invaders came and slaughtered her newborn child, raped her mercilessly, and then killed her for sport. Ask the father in Judah who watched his son being taken away into Babylonian captivity as he was killed at the end of a spear point. What rights did these people have? Oh, but they were under condemnation you say. God sent those invaders as punishment. True that. But they certainly had no rights to demand of God as they were killed, raped, or taken away into captivity. But still, they were disobedient you say. They got what they deserved for their abandonment of God, you say.

Fair enough. Let’s look at the righteous examples then. What rights did Isaiah have as they sawed him in two? Or what about the apostle James, the brother of John, who was beheaded by Herod? What about Stephen who was stoned for talking about Jesus? Or Paul? Or Peter, as he was crucified upside-down in Rome? What about the countless Christian martyrs used as torches to light the streets of Rome at night? What of these men? Where were their rights? A right to life? A right to liberty? A right to pursue happiness? I see none.

These men were slaves. They were slaves to God and to the message of Jesus Christ; the message of the imputed righteousness of another, by his death and resurrection, and the application by the Spirit that imputes that righteousness to those who would believe in it. For this message they were killed. Here’s a wake-up call. I don’t have any rights. I don’t have any claim. My obedience to the gospel of Jesus promises only one thing, death. My disobedience, into which I was born, promises only death, but carries with it a death to come as well. So either way, no matter what I choose, I get to die. How’s that for rights? Dead people don’t have rights. Let’s see someone preach that. But, in the final analysis, that seems to be what the Bible teaches. Every single one of the New Testament writers uses the idea of a slave, and I don’t think they do it by accident. You are either of slave of sin, in which case you reap your fruit, which is death; or you are a slave of righteousness (read that as Christ, the person himself), from which you reap your fruit (your confession of his righteousness) which leads to life (in the resurrection). In the meantime, believer, you’re likely going to die because of your belief. You are a slave.

Slaves do not have rights. They do not have possessions. They do not have dreams. They do not hope for a better life. A slave trusts in his master. If his master gives him something, then his master is gracious. If he is denied, then his master has done him no wrong. A master is not obligated to do anything for his slave, much less God for any man. God has obligated himself in one way, and only one way, to his slaves. They will live again. But like I said in my last post, that life is not now. It is not a promise of a better life now. So, when you get upset that life isn’t going the way you want it to, when you get pouty that you have been denied what you deserve, remember this one thing. Only a fool demands of God what he deserves, because the Bible is clear. You deserve only death. That you have life by faith… that is grace. It is not deserved, earned, or merited in any way.

You are a slave.

You have no rights.

You're already dead

2010-01-14T18:59:00.002-06:00

It’s pitch black in the dead of night. A song floats across a field, its words lost on the warm currents of the summer night. A group of men, soldiers, faces painted in shadows and darkness, sit talking in their foxhole as their enemy sings from their own foxholes on the other side of the field – the field upon which they fought only hours before, the field upon which their brothers fell to the fire of hostile bullets. German bullets, fired by an occupying force of invading foreigners that now held a garrison outside of Carentan, France. A soldier named Blithe tells how he came to be there. He was separated from his unit after having blacked out in fear after parachuting in. When he came to, his unit had left him, so he just hid there in the ditch.

“You know why you hid in that ditch Blithe?”

“I was scared.”

“We're all scared. You hid in that ditch because you think there's still hope. But Blithe, the only hope you have is to accept the fact that you're already dead. And the sooner you accept that, the sooner you'll be able to function as a soldier is supposed to function. Without mercy. Without compassion. Without remorse. All war depends upon it.”

The scene is from the acclaimed HBO mini-series Band of Brothers which tells the tale of Easy Company, of the 101st Airborne Division’s time in Europe during World War 2. I’m not the first person to quote this scene for this purpose, and I’m sure I will not be the last. This scene has come to my mind a lot these past few weeks as I think about my life, the decisions that have brought me to where I am, and where I will go next. It is easy to get bogged down with life, its pursuits and goals. It is easy to get so focused on what we are striving after that the big picture gets blurry. Our perspective gets distorted and we feel lost. We feel scared. We feel alone. If only we could embrace this philosophy, really embrace it. If only we could remember this simple fact. We’re already dead.

It is easy to say that. It’s easy to think about it. It’s harder to live though. As men, born into this world, we are born dead. That is our only birthright. It is all we have to claim. Sure, we can do many things while we live, but in the end, no one gets out alive. As Christians, we are dead to the world. We died in Christ. Done. Over. Dead. Surely we will live again. That is our hope after all, hope in the resurrection from the dead, a hope based on our faith, a future pledged to us by a promise, by the seal of the Holy Spirit living in us. That Spirit who raised Christ from the dead also now dwells in us who believe, that as He lives, so too will we live. But here is where Western Christianity seems to have lost it. I was taught my entire life that eternal life starts now. I have the Spirit living in me. Life is now. God will bless me if I obey. God will show favor to his children by blessing them now. I can no longer read Scripture and come to that conclusion. The only thing the Bible promises me, as a follower of Christ, is that I will be an enemy of all. The world will hate me. It will seek to destroy me. And, in the end, it might succeed.

I am not promised any hope in this life. I am like Blithe, sitting in my little ditch. My whole life people taught me to have hope. To strive to achieve things. To make something of myself. Get an education. Get a job. Get a wife. Raise a family. Grow old. Die at a nice old age surrounded by loved ones. Vanity of vanity, all is vanity! My mistake? I still thought there was hope. There isn’t. Not in this life. It is easy to say that this life doesn’t matter, that we’re already dead. It is another thing to actually believe it. The sooner we accept it, the sooner we can function as we are supposed to, as aliens, foreigners for whom this world is not our home. If I have been crucified with Christ, and am reckoned as dead, I ought not cling to this life, its dreams, its pursuits. But you know what? Even something that is mortally wounded, only moments from death, still strives to move forward. It clings to the last vestiges of life with its dying breath. Even though it knows it is as good as dead, and that nothing can stop its fatal slide into darkness, still it claws forward until its life is spent. If only we could just let it all go. If only we could forget it all and live this life as we ought to, as we ought to in light of our impending death. If only we could proclaim with Paul that we have been crucified with Christ, and it is no longer us who lives, but Christ in us. If only we could genuinely abandon all value for our lives and pursue the Kingdom with hearts devoted to it, without reservation. If only we could abandon hope in a life now for the hope of a life to come. If only we could accept it. “You’re already dead.”

Dead people do not hope. They do not dream. They do not fight back. Those who are dead are free of the burden of caring for anything in their life. That life is over. There is no going back. There is only the life of another. His life. His dreams. His goals.

“…you think there's still hope. But Blithe, the only hope you have is to accept the fact that you're already dead.”

There is no hope. Not in this life.

You’re already dead…

A novel in 30 days?!

2009-11-11T21:03:00.003-06:00

Okay... so it has been a dreadfully long time since I posted anything here. Too many things have held my interest over these past many months to spend much time and thought here. However, something new has since gripped my affections. I am somewhat reluctant to post this publicly, but only for fear that I may fail in my endeavor. It is national novel writing month (nanowrimo) and I have undertaken a challenge to write a novel in thirty days. The goal is to write an entire novel, 50,000 words, from November 1st to November 30th. It is a daunting task, to say the least, even without the other bits of schoolwork that I have lingering in the back of my mind. However, I just finished writing the last of my papers for the semester and now I am free to write to my heart's content! We'll see if this plays out or if I give up somewhere halfway through. I've wanted to write something longer than a short story for a long time now, at least since high school, and now I have the motivation to do so. Time will tell if I'm made of the stuff needed to endure this challenge... In the meantime, I've posted a word count meter on the blog to broadcast to the world my current status, so that perhaps the shame of public humiliation will spur me on to victory! So, here we go!

Poll Results

2009-10-27T10:00:00.002-06:00

Here are the results to my poll question: Should Michael cut his hair?

Though, truth be told, I think some people were stuffing the ballot box. ;-) All the same, Yes has it folks!

Should I cut my hair?

2009-09-13T20:15:00.001-06:00

So... my hair is now two feet long, root to tip. The question remains:

If you feel strongly one way or another, feel free to comment.

The 21st Century Shepherd

2009-03-19T21:13:00.002-06:00

There can be no doubt that the advances in technology have changed the way the shepherd relates to his sheep. While the old methods remain valid, there can be no doubt that by leveraging technology the 21st century shepherd can guide his flock in ways he could not, even fifty years ago. I humbly offer this video as proof.

Okay... that may be a little unorthodox, and if you can stop laughing for a moment, here are a few observations.

1) In order for a flock comprised of sheep, who left to their own devices will simply mill about while they eat, sleep, and poop, to do anything spectacular, they must have a leader who is willing to see the big picture, that is, have vision

2) A shepherd must plan ahead, laying the proper groundwork suitable to that vision

3) A good shepherd places those under him who share his vision and do as he says

4) If there is not a proper flow from vision, to shepherd, to under-shepherds, to the flock, there is likely only chaos that appears complex, but in reality is anything but

Christmas for the kids destroys Christmas

2009-01-08T12:25:00.001-06:00

How many times can you recall hearing people say that Christmas is for the kids? What they mean is that Christmas holds the most meaning for them as they watch their kids open presents, the gifts that they worked so hard to provide. The glow in the child's eyes as he eagerly rips away the festive gift wrap. The wonder as he tries to piece together what treasure he is about to discover, trying to glimpse his trophy through the exposed tears in the paper. The excitement is palpable; intoxicating. Parents wait an entire year to see this kind of excitement and feel joy knowing that they are the cause. Their hard work has paid off; their child is happy. However, when this goal becomes the goal, while seemingly noble and selfless, it destroys Christmas for both parent and child.

This emphasis on the presents gives children the wrong idea. Even in a Christian home where the Christmas story is believed, and sometimes even talked about, in practice the story takes second chair to the gifts; at least in the mind of the child. Let's be honest, kids do not care about Bible stories. They care about those brightly wrapped gifts sitting under the tree. Children are the most accurate picture of the heart of men, uncorrupted by age and custom, greedy and self-centered in a purely raw way. By allowing this continued focus on gifts, even in light of "God's gift," we reenforce this greediness. Children learn by observation, therefore it is paramount that children observe correct behavior. Solomon writes, "Train up a child in the way he should go, Even when he is old he will not depart from it." (Proverbs 22:6) Customs a child learns through observation, whether explicitly taught or not, can and do imprint them for life. The child learns what Christmas is at an early age, and that expectation remains for his entire life. It may manifest in different ways, but the underlying structure is formed very early in life. The focus of the parents becomes the focus of the child. One of the reasons that God instituted custom was for teaching children. Moses writes, "And it shall be when your son asks you in time to come, saying, 'What is this?' then you shall say to him, 'With a powerful hand the LORD brought us out of Egypt, from the house of slavery." (Exodus 13:14) The focus in these traditions remains on God, prompting the child to inquire as to the meaning of the tradition. The focus in gift giving becomes the gift and the satisfaction of self. The child's focus is turned inward to himself rather than outward toward God. The result is that God is forgetten, as will soon be the gifts that brought such elation only moments before. The let-down of the aftermath leaves everyone worse than before, proving the depth of the vanity when the focus becomes the gift. At a recent Christmas party a child's parents relayed the cute story of their child on Christmas morning. Upon seeing the presents under the tree, he screamed in delight, "Santa brought Christmas!" When adults came later that day, he asked each one, "did you bring Christmas?" While certainly endearing, I fear this illustrates my point. The child, at a very early age, has already associated the meaning of Christmas with getting and giving presents. While the child cannot yet articulate the words or thoughts to convey the hollowness of the expression, he already displays the behavior of the vanity. The old toys, as wonderful as they are, leave him wanting more. The emphasis is not on the present itself even, but the act of getting a present. Once it has been had, in order to recreate the sensation, he must move on to new acquisitions, not for the sake of the object he wishes to acquire, but because he has been conditioned to relish the acquisition for acquisition's sake. Thus the beginning of a new little consumer.

The problem propagates from one generation to the next in a seemingly endless cycle. The consumer grows, each year the behavior reinforced, until the child reaches adulthood. Now being the adult, knowing that Christmas is for the kids, he starts the process all over of slowly molding his child into his own image. It's not that people do it consciously, trying to destroy their kids. It's what they have always known and have never stopped a moment to consider the why, as if the why were not important. I always dread going Christmas shopping, getting out among the crowds, the mindless throng of the intellectual wastelands. The adult Christmas consumers are angry, stressed out, and singular in their focus. They look forward to propagating their consumer philosophy, but despise having to go about the actions to make it happen. Just take a moment to look at peoples' faces in the malls, at the Walmart. They feel no joy. They are oppressed by the false sense of purpose demanded by their corrupt construct. The hopelessness apparent on their faces is the exact reflection of their souls as their futile attempts to regain that sensation they were conditioned to desire proves illusory, leaving them empty just like the child after Christmas morning is over, wracked by an inexplicable hollowness that they are still unable to articulate or understand. (See my thoughts from two years ago.) Glenn Beck recently told a story of how he wanted to do one Christmas all out, you know, for the kids. He and his wife went overboard, buying everything their children had wanted. At the end he said they all felt dirty, cheap. They had defiled Christmas but couldn't understand how. That is, until they realized what they had done by focusing on the presents, by making Christmas "about the kids." The problem is that most people never come to this point and are never able to put it into words, so they can never address the real problem. We try to recreate that sensation we had as children in our own children which leaves us feeling cheap, and the children feeling unfulfilled. The focus has shifted from God, to the children, to the gift, to the act of getting the gift.

The focus of Christmas is where the problem lies, and from where the solution comes. Jesus warned his disciples that they could not serve God and wealth, or literally, the personified master of wealth, Mammon. Yet, as Christians in the western world, where the pursuit of happiness has been corrupted to mean the pursuit of wealth (which promises happiness), our focus is difficult to maintain. We are bombarded through culture, media, and even language, to focus on wealth. If there were any general truth in the Bible more applicable to twenty-first century people, I cannot think of one. You cannot serve both God and Mammon. We, Western Christians, have exchanged the glory of God for the glory of the created. Our god is no longer the God of Abraham, the father of Jesus, the one reconciling the world to himself through the work of his son. No, our god is Mammon. Not by our profession of belief, but by the profession of our actions. This is a personal problem. This is a family problem. Our families need us. I'm not talking about your heathen in-laws. I'm talking about your Christian family. If we are not careful, we will inadvertently teach our children to worship at the altar of Mammon. We will create another generation of hypocrites who worship God with their mouths while their hearts are far from him, for their hearts belong to Mammon. It is the love of money that is the root of all (kinds of) evil. I cannot overemphasize the importance of our focus during Christmas. The enemy of Christmas that we hear from our Christian brothers every year, how they hate how materialistic the season has become, is not secular culture, the media, or the stores hawking their wares with festive jingles. No, the true enemy of Christmas is us, those who claim to know the truth, but practice a different truth in our lives. The focus must not be on the kids, lest we continue the cycle. The focus must be entirely on God. What does this look like? Spend those extra hours with your kids, those hours you would spend working overtime to buy your kids some useless piece of trash. Read the Christmas story to them every night for two weeks, each night focusing on a different aspect of the story. Spend time with them decorating, cooking, living life with them. Serve with them, helping them to find satisfaction and joy in serving others. Go to a soup kitchen, work with the unfortunate. But most importantly, spend that time showing them what presents never can, that Christmas is not about them, not about presents. Christmas is about God. Anything else is a shame and destroys Christmas.

Confused drunken strangers

2008-12-22T17:01:00.003-06:00

I love Houston, some of the strangest things happen here. Take this last week for example. I'm walking to my car like I do every morning, running just a few minutes late, going about my normal morning trying to get to work. As I am getting into my front seat, I notice a middle-aged, slightly balding white man wearing a white tee shirt and denim jacket across the apartment parking lot. As I am lowering myself into the driver's seat, he yells out to me, "Hey!"

He approaches casually, not intimidating at all, asking which way the main street was. I told him it was just a little ways over there, pointing to the south. As he closes the distance, the first detail that I notice is the Catholic crucifix around his neck. Surely someone wearing a crucifix isn't going to jump me (refer to my previous encounters with strangers at my apartment, and at the gas station). Of course, remembering said events, the cynical side of me wonders if the ornament is merely a ploy to engender trust from his unsuspecting victims. I remain wary as he explains.

"Do you think you could give me a ride? My job's on the strip, I just got this job as a dish washer and I really need to get to work. My friends took me out drinking last night and I'm not sure where I'm at..."

I truthfully inform him that I am unfortunately going the other way, trying to sound noncommittal. However, trying to be helpful as best I can, I assure him how close he is to the street he seeks. I consider the time, and feeling sorry for him, I ask where this restaurant is.

"I can't remember the name of it..."

Okay, things are starting to get a little strange now. You have a new job, but you don't know the name of the place where you have your new job. Maybe he knows the basic area that it's in...

"I'm not sure, I can't remember."

At this point, even being guardedly helpful, there's not much I can do. He can't tell me where he works, or even the basic direction. I remain poised for just about anything at this point, wondering if he's about to spring on me now that the jig's up!

"My friends took me out drinking last night, so that's why I'm having a hard time."

I apologize and again assure him how close he is, as he walks away, confused but now on a mission, in the direction of his general destination, which was maybe a quarter mile south. I knew there were buses there, so maybe they could help him.

I genuinely felt bad for him. I'm not sure if he really was hung over (or maybe still drunk) and needed a ride to work, or if he was a drifter or nefarious character who sought to remove me from my belongings, or good health. I may never know if he just needed a ride, or if he was as shady as his story...

There was a mouse in my house

2008-11-18T19:33:00.004-06:00

There was a mouse in my house
I found out tonight;
Running the floors
And skirting the light.

Chasing him 'twas silly because,
He's little, so trite.
Him hopping about
So futile his plight...

There in his eyes, certain demise;
Glued to my sight,
I pinned him down,
He squeeled out in fright!

Into my snare, knowing despair,
He yielded the fight...
The door flung open,
The rodent took flight!

I threw him out with a shout
And up like a kite;
Ne'er to return,
Lost to the night...

Wave to the mouse from my house,
wish him good night;
Running the streets,
And ducking from sight...

New 2008 Pumpkin Art!

2008-10-26T21:56:00.007-06:00

As promised before, here is my newest creation. These were both carved using a wood-carving exacto knife set. Nothing fancy, just tedious dedication. This is a Heath Ledger Joker pumpkin carving. I created the pattern myself using Photoshop. This one took me about nine hours, start to finish, including creating the pattern, transfer, gutting, and of course, carving. Could I have spent this time doing something else? Sure, but then I wouldn't have a piece of transient art, shining in all its decaying glory!

Also, here is a better picture of my previous Gollum pumpkin, now properly lit with 40 watts of glory.

Gollum Jack-o-lantern

2008-10-19T21:26:00.005-06:00

When I was a little kid I once saw this old man who had the coolest pumpkins ever. They weren't the normal, run-o-the-mill, happy jack-o-lantern's with gaping smiles. Oh no, these were professionally done. The intricate patterns, the multi-toned images, oh the wonder and magic of being a kid again! I saw what others had done and had to know how. The old man was kind and happy enough to explain how he did it. It was simple, a special blade for his exacto knife. Nothing too fancy, just a saw-toothed blade.

I begged and begged my parents to get me that blade. If this old man could do it, surely I could! My parents never acquiesced. In their defense, I was only eight at the time, but even at eight I dreamt big. There was no challenge I could not conquer, unless the world was arrayed against me with my parents as willing accomplices!

So here I am, almost twenty years later and Halloween is approaching. This is the year that I am going to do it. It's not expensive and even though time is short for hobbies these days, this is a lifelong dream, as it were. So without further adieu, here is my first creation. Note first. The picture quality isn't great, it's much more impressive in real life, but this gives a good idea of what it looks like.

Pattern from The Pumpkin Wizard

If I can find the time in the next ten days, I plan on making several more. This was my first attempt, using manual tools. The dremel is next on the list. There will be pumpkin everywhere, I have no doubt. I can't wait to see what I come up with though using the proper tools!

No man knows the day or the hour... or do they?

2008-09-28T20:30:00.000-06:00

For those of you who have not met, let me introduce you to the Large Hadron Collider (LHC). This gargantuan investment of billions of dollars, stretching 17 miles under the Swiss Alps is the worlds largest particle collider. It has the ability to take a particle, accelerate it to nearly the speed of light, and then smash it into other particles. You know... just to see what will happen. Well, some people seem to think this will create a lot of little black holes. For those of you not familiar with the basics of a black hole, it is a point in space with such a strong gravitational pull that matter and electromatic energy cannot escape its pull. It is black because even light cannot escape its iron grasp. So... some scientists think the LHC will create a bunch of little black holes. I'm no scientist, but even a little black hole seems like a big deal. The great and respectable Stephen Hawking seems to think that even if these little black holes are created, they will collapse in on themselves. What if our dear Hawking is wrong? I mean... if a black hole, even a little one, were to be created on earth... um... wouldn't it have the ability to get larger and larger, sucking in everything around it, gaining mass (and consequently more gravity to suck even more things in), possibly engulfing the entire world? Hey, just a thought...

So anyway. They fired this thing up recently, it made headlines all over the world. No, no, the world didn't end. But! they only fired particles in one direction at a time. When the real deal goes down in October, they will fire them in opposite directions and smash them into each other. Or, that was the plan anyway. Seems in their little experiment they melted some vital cooling components. Something about a Helium leak, coolant system failing, super conductance destroyed, blah, blah, blah. Luckily for us, it's offline for a little while, until next year at least. So, looks like those words stay true. No man knows the day or the hour of [the end of the world]. I'm not saying this thing is going to end the world, or that Jesus is going to pop out of a black whole and say 'gotcha'... but I'm not not saying it either.

"I find it kinda funny, find it kinda sad"

2008-09-24T17:40:00.004-06:00

Tell me the Bible is no longer applicable today. Tell me the truths it claims are out dated. Welcome to ancient Rome, where people worship all sorts of gods instead of the one that made it all; gods of their own making, even that which was made by the true creator. Ancient Rome has nothing on the pluralism of today's modern, enlightened man. Ancient Rome, eat your heart out. This is comical, if only it weren't so sad. I don't know if it's legit, but even as a parody, wow...

Don LaFontaine, dead at 68

2008-09-02T18:12:00.002-06:00

Don LaFontaine, dead at 68. His name may not mean anything to you, his death just another line in the obituary section. Though we did not know the man, his name almost meaningless, virtually every person who has ever seen a movie is familiar with his contribution. The voice of a generation is gone.

In a world where audio/visual media has largely replaced the written word, LaFontaine's work is monumental in scope. He could be likened to a prolific writer who penned the introduction to thousands of novels in times past. Given the liquidity of the new media, his contribution will not likely persist or be held in as high regard as have the great works of men from other ages, but for those in this day, his voice will be sorely missed.

Why no does not always mean no

2008-08-13T10:05:00.010-06:00

Over the past several months I have repeatedly been confronted by questions and situations all circling around the topic of male-female interaction. What is appropriate? Where are the lines? What are the rules?

While this topic has been on my mind for years as I struggled to answer these unspoken questions, the lyrics to a song brought the issue to the forefront of my conversations with friends.

Crept through the curtains, as quick as the cold wind
Slowly exploring the room where you sleep
The stare of your portrait, the passing of your scent
Left me no choice but to stay

I will dissolve into the dark beneath your bed
My hands will wait for a taste of your skin
The Hush Sound - Sweet Tangerine

On the surface, and taken in exclusion of the rest of the song, these lyrics seem to describe the actions of a stalker. He enters through an open window into the deserted room of his quarry. She is not around, but he is so overcome with his desire that he must stay, hiding beneath her bed, waiting for her return. Creepy is probably an understatement. However, if you look at the rest of the song, I would argue these are not the actions of a stalker, but of a one-time-lover who has since been rejected. The constant refrain of the song is begging his "sweet tangerine" to come back to him. In another part, he describes his tears streaming down his face as he stands outside her house, the freezing rain pouring down, drenching his clothes, his heart aching for her return, but alas, she has found solace in the arms of another! The song clearly defines him as an ex-boyfriend, which I feel should be differentiated from a stalker. This is far from an authoritative or formal definition, but for the purpose of this discussion, a stalker should be defined as someone who pursues a member of the opposite sex when no affirmation or consent of that pursuit has been given; which by definition must exclude our friend from the song since he did, at one time, have said permission. This differs from the webster's definition in that there it is defined as obsessive pursuit, to the point of harassment.

Why do I make a distinction, how can it be justified? The message has been driven home, at least since I was a kid, that "No means no!" That idea is embodied in the formal definition of stalker as well. If the woman says no, then her pursuer is to back off. Poppycock! The true meaning of the statement, "No means no," is that no means no when a woman means it to be no, but it can mean "maybe," and sometimes a flat out "yes" otherwise. If you corner any self aware woman, and if she's honest with herself, and you, she will readily admit this. There are times when she says she's not interested, but with the secret desire that you keep in pursuit. This is part of the dance between the sexes. I am convinced that if all men across the world took the literal meaning, then mankind would cease to exist within several generations. This should not be construed to mean that a man has any justification in raping a woman. If you came to that conclusion, I'm sorry, but "they" have already gotten to you and its too late for you; close the web browser now. No, I refer to the subtle currents that exist between men and women, where men understand yes and no, but also through experience, understand that it is up to him to be able to read the mind of his oft' insane quarry to be able to know the difference between the no's. When a typical man says no, for any reason, he probably means it. When a woman says no, it could mean any number of a hundred things, and the woman expects that the man is enlightened enough to understand this. Sorry ladies, the truth is, there exists no such man. We are very simple creatures and often mistake women for the same.

Here we see one of the major problems between the sexes. It's not just that we play by completely different sets of rules, but we fully expect that the other side understands and accepts our rules. Further, with the advent of the militant feminism that has effectively neutered the American male, this simple distinction gets lost while each sex tries to play by the uni-sex handbook, which is just as make-believe as the aforementioned clairvoyant male. Men behaving like women and women pretending to be men has turned the whole world upside down.

Taking another look at the song lyrics above, there is something implied in them that would be obvious were it not for the annihilation of the sexual boundaries in our culture. What would motivate this guy to pursue this girl so relentlessly? How does a person come to the point where hiding in the shadows just to be near someone seems like a reasonable expression of his feelings? The answer is simple. He feels that he has some stake of ownership over her. His heart was so entwined with hers, their lives shared at the deepest levels for so long, that the line between their personal identities started to shift, weaving in and out of the other so that distinguishing the end of one and the beginning of another became impossible. In essence, she was as much his as was his own body. They were one. This is the natural consequence of any relationship, and most especially, between lovers.

I'm sure that some of you feminists must be frothing at the mouth, eyes blurred with red. "How dare you say that no doesn't mean no! Your ideas typify the very male-dominated gender structures that have held women down for thousands of years! How can you still cling to your sexist stereotypes!" If you haven't closed the window yet, and your head has not yet exploded like our dear feminist there, stick with me while I offer three points to support my claims of ownership. First, and my weakest argument since it will not be accepted as authoritative exept by a few, comes from the Apostle Paul. In 1 Corinthians 7 the Apostle tells us that the man has authority over his wife's body, and the wife over that of her husband. In effect, their joining as one flesh signifies the end of the individual (on many levels) and gives one partner ownership over the other. Second, if one looks back in history, in almost every society, monogamy is the norm. And even in those societies where it is not, such as New Testament Greek culture, once a woman was joined to her man, that bond was something special; not to be broken. If one member is sexually unfaithful, there arises jealousy, anger and a sense of betrayal. This is the stronger argument, the foundation upon which the Apostle makes his assertion. He pulls from a universal truth, that the man owns the woman, just as the woman owns the man; a fact evident even in the very language of the ancients. There is often no word for husband or wife in ancient languages, but context tells us that, for instance, Sarah is Abraham's wife because she is "his woman." My last, and perhaps most compelling argument, however, is one that hits a little closer to home.

Picture your spouse, your significant other, even your crush. Now, picture them receiving and offering emotional and physical affection to another person, while rejecting you. The feeling is universal and unmistakable. Jealousy, outrage, anguish, betrayal. These feelings of hurt have no basis while the other person is not bound to us, if they were merely a random person on the street hugging another random person. No, we feel a sense of entitlement to their exclusive affection. We own that part of them, and by the rules of the relationship, expect those affections to be reserved only for us.

This is why no cannot always mean no. Once a relationship has been formed and those lines become blurred, each party becomes a partial owner of the other. Then, as in the case of the song above, when the two split, there are lingering feelings of attachment that have no place for expression. At what point do his actions cease to a valiant attempt to win her heart and become something sinister? When do his advances cease to be romantic naivety and get labeled as stalking? It cannot always be at "no" because that is to deny that oh-so-subtle dance; that is to deny the ownership that is innate to the structure of the relationship.

I heard a survey on the radio recently that said one out of every nine college freshman girls reported being stalked during that year. That's 11 percent! Odds are the poll question was something inane like, "did you ever feel like you were being stalked?" Aside from the uselessness of polling data, this statistic shows one thing, that men and women have different rules, because I can assure you that most of those guys that the girls called 'stalkers' would not classify themselves as stalkers. Men are expected to be romantic, daring, willing to do anything to get the girl. And... when he is just those things, since he sees the world very literally, he is likely called a stalker. (This is not meant to defend those men who actually do stalk women, who are dangerous, but to defend those to whom the label is wrongly applied.) It is the lack of a common set of rules that has led us here.

There once were a common set of rules, however, they have been abandoned, in America at least. Look at our divorce rate, which is no different inside the church than outside. We select our mates in the same flawed manner as our unregenerate counterparts. Most of the time it is based on a feeling, that fluttery feeling in the stomach called love. Surely love will provide a solid foundation for marriage! Bah! Childish notions and fairytales! I am convinced that most of the time people choose a mate who makes them feel good, which in turn is based on some shortcoming in their own lives, often going as far back as the bad relationship between parent and child. They choose a mate who completes the hole in themselves, hoping that this time it will be different. Even those who had stellar childhoods still fall into this trap. The problem isn't necessarily that we all had crummy childhoods, but that, statistically more often than not, we are not wise enough to choose a mate that is best suited for us. We are immature, short-sighted and naive. We expect the other team to play by our rules, then get upset when they don't, and all the while intertwine our hearts with so many people along the way to our eventual mates that all we have to offer at the marriage altar, is at best, a beaten up, broken down, half-empty shell of a person. Each of our previous relationships having sucked a little bit of life from our souls, never to be returned.

The solution is drastic, seemingly outdated, and completely unable to take hold in America, thus reducing this entire post to one long-winded rant. My answer? Arranged marriages. I can hear your jaws dropping, even now. Your stunned silence speaks more than the tangled mess of opposing arguments flying through your head ever could. The simple fact is that most people, myself probably included, are not self-aware enough to choose our mates wisely as could an outside, impartial third party. If we could get past our misconceptions of the other sex, and our lack of understanding of ourselves, then perhaps individuals would be capable of wisely choosing a mate. Again, I offer 50% divorce rate as evidence that such is not the case, and the history of man where marriages have been largely arranged. And, as marriages end, ripping that one-flesh apart, as premature relationships end leaving bits of the other person's heart behind, as this rightful sense of ownership over our lovers is perverted because it is fostered in an environment without proper boundaries, I can only stand in silence wondering how it is that this race has made it this far.

Oh well... all that being said, I suppose it's time to hit the single's scene. Lotta girls out there waiting to be possessed, stalked and dumped you know...

A manly breakfast

2008-05-06T06:34:00.005-06:00

It was a normal morning. I woke up, stumbled into my shower, brushed my teeth and got in my car to go to work. "Hmm... breakfast tacos sound good, I think I'll call ahead and order some so they will be ready by the time I get there. Wait... make sure you have your wallet!" I checked and, alas!, my wallet was no where to be found. I then remembered that I had put it in my backback yesterday, which was still in my apartment. Time was running short, but this simple equation proves: breakfast tacos > being to work on time. I quickly walked back and got my wallet, and as I was exiting my apartment I heard a woman yell out, "No, oh God no!" It sounded like she was talking with a friend, maybe they had played some sort of practical joke. There was another guy in the complex, closer than I, who appeared to have a view of the goings-on, and he wasn't moving, so surely nothing was really wrong. Besides, I have to get to work, and let's not forget my breakfast tacos!

As I am unlocking my car I see a young black guy walking down the center of the street. He's wearing a red shirt, and shorts. He has a black bag strung over his shoulder as he nonchalantly meanders down the center of the street. All seems normal, except that there is a woman chasing him, yelling, "Somebody stop him! He took my bag!" A man across the street just looks on with polite, but distant concern. He makes no move. The woman is still yelling for someone to stop the man, he's taken her bag, she claims!

I step in front of the man to block his exit as the woman closes ground. He keeps moving and I keep my distance, but still blocking a quick escape. The woman hits him on the back, grabbing the bag, trying to pull it from him. She continues to try to get the bag, but the man turns to fight back. The two fall to the ground, the bag falls to the side. I yell to the man, "Hey!" They separate and he regains his footing, his attention now focused on me. In the meantime the woman has gotten the bag and stands back as the young man and I circle each other, arms raised to ward off attack, eyeing the other like a strange animal that has invaded the other's territory. "What?! You just gonna let her take my bag," he asks me, the anger apparent in his eyes; his hunt interrupted, his quarry lost. He comes at me, faking an attack. I move back, maintaining distance, but keeping him from escaping. I hold one hand out open, telling him, "We don't have to do this." A man across the street walking his little dogs stands by, even as I motion to him and say, "Hey, can I get a little help over here?" The man with his little feminine dogs stands there. Useless! The young man thrusts forward, his fists flailing. I dodge and his strike falls short, hitting me in the chest, his other swings missing wildly.

Just then, a woman appears in a minivan. The young man explains to her that I've just let that other woman take his bag. She offers him a ride. This is Houston. Women don't offer rides to strange black men accused of crimes. (Though with the adrenaline pumping, it does not occur to me that they must be working together until the police later make the suggestion.) He accepts. He maintains that the woman took his bag, and that it's my fault. I calmly say to the guy, "Hey, I think I know where she lives. (I lied.) We'll go talk to her and get her to open the bag up, and we'll sort this out." We start back toward the apartments, the woman in the minivan drives off, but I warn him, "you stay back, we'll go see." He asks to use my cell phone to call the police. This seems like a good idea, so I pull out my phone, but I will dial, not him. When he realizes that I am not going to give him the phone, he starts to walk away, muttering all the while about his stolen bag. As I give his description to the 911 operator he disappears around the corner. For my safety I am warned I should not pursue.

And all I wanted was a breakfast taco!

Ditch your Debt... NOW!

2008-04-08T17:50:00.003-06:00

People... we HAVE to ditch our debt, and we have to do it now. Our politicians, both left AND right, are selling us down the river. Cost of living is increasing, the value of the dollar is plummeting, and the average American has a negative equity. Our entire economy is a house of cards; it's smoke and mirrors! If we keep selling our sovereignty, both political and economic, to the private interests, both foreign and domestic, to those whose only desire is to exploit and plunder, we will be a nation of paupers, a people with no physical assets, no wealth, and it will be the end of the America as we know it. The country will collapse beneath the ruin of short-sighted men and women who are financially eviscerating us. The Federal Reserve is only one facet of the problem, but their ubiquitous fingers of influence stretch into every home, every wallet and purse; and all this under the guise of being a federal institution, which it is NOT.

Star Spangled Banner by the Cactus Cuties

2008-04-01T19:04:00.007-06:00

Maybe I'm just getting sentimental in my old age, but this brought tears to my eyes. As I watch these talented and precious girls sing our national anthem I can't help but be overwhelmed by the beauty of the song and the beauty of the country for which it was written. It makes me appreciate my freedom from tyranny, from hate, and from oppression. What absolute beauty there is in this great nation, from the greatest people in history, from the still-innocent voices of these little girls. Where else on the planet can one enjoy this measure of living, this freedom, this beauty?

"This is a video of the Cactus Cuties, very talented young ladies ranging in age from 8 to 13 singing The Star Spangled Banner. The performance was at the Texas Tech vs Texas basketball game January 20, 2008 in front of over 11,000 people. The Cuties are Andi, Baylee, Blaire, Madeline and Tatum. The group is named for the Cactus Theater in Lubbock, Texas and are coached by Cami Caldwell." ¹

An Uninspired Parable

2008-03-28T21:44:00.002-06:00

There was once a young man who worked in an orchard. He always worked very hard for his master, keeping the orchard and tending his fruit. And it happened that after a particularly scorching day that his mouth became parched. He knew he could wait a short while and drink from the garden house a short walk away, where he would soon go, but he was surrounded by all this perfectly good fruit.

He reasoned to himself, "I have always worked hard for my master tending his orchard. Look here! I am surrounded by all this fruit and my mouth is dry. I will take and eat from my master’s trees that my thirst might be quenched. He will not mind, for I am his faithful servant, and behold! this fruit is almost ripe." So the young man reached to a low branch, for it was within his reach, and plucked some fruit and ate. The young man’s thirst was satisfied, but soon his stomach began to hurt and he sat in the shade of the tree waiting for it to pass.

Then it happened that the master of the orchard came walking along and saw the young man sitting in the shade with a look of pain on his face. He inquired of his servant, "Why are you sitting here with a look of pain on your face?"

The young man answered saying, "I was thirsty, and the garden house was a long way off. So, I took fruit from the tree and ate, and now I am in pain."

Then the master said to him, "What is this that you have done? I placed you in charge of tending my fruit, to nurture it until it was ripe. You, of all people, knew the fruit which was good to eat and which would make you sick, and yet you chose the fruit that was not yet ripe, for it was within reach; for you could not even travel a short distance to the house. I have long noticed your eyes gazing upon my fruit, longing to take what is mine, and now you have taken what was not yours and have become a thief. You have not only taken from me, but have taken from him for whom that fruit was intended. You set your eye upon it and you picked it before it was ripe. You removed it from its source before it was ready and now it has been destroyed and cannot be restored again."

When the young realized what he had done, he held his head in shame and asked forgiveness, but his master continued, "If you had wanted fruit you should have gone to the market where the fruit was ripe and out for sale. Instead you chose to steal from me. Though it satisfied your thirst, it has made you sick and is now destroyed, never to become that for which it was destined. Because of this you will not taste of my fruit again," and he threw him from his orchard.

Choose wisely!

2008-03-20T22:04:00.004-06:00

I ran across this news story a couple of days ago: http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20080314/od_nm/engagement_dc

If the link fails to work at some point, know this: A man wanted to propose to his girlfriend. He wanted to "pop the question." So, he buys a ridiculously expensive ring, puts it in a balloon filled with helium, and plans to pop the balloon as he asks the questions. Then as he is walking out of the store, he loses his grip on the precious balloon and has to watch, helplessly, as a small fortune rises into the heavens. Needless to say, he never recovered it. His girlfriend was furious and demanded he buy her a new ring. Two observations.

1) DUMP HER!
2) Since he's not too bright anyway, she should probably dump him too.

Or, maybe I've got this all wrong, and they deserve each other...

Trace Bundy

2008-03-03T21:35:00.002-06:00

All of us know what it's like to be second best, or third, and sometimes even dead last. Though simple in concept, the old adage that there's always someone better than you can be a tough pill to swallow. Take Trace Bundy for example. For someone who has dabbled in guitar for years, watching someone with his skill is mind boggling. It serves both to encourage, stoking the fires to burn with the passion of imagination, and is so simultaneously discouraging when you see your complete lack of ability that you want to throw your guitar into an actual fire and revel as the flame consumes it and your bruised ego! Am I being melodramatic? You tell me...

Lone Survivor by Marcus Luttrell

2008-02-16T15:00:00.004-06:00

Many years ago I was doing a phone interview with a scholarship committee. They liked my application and essay enough that they wanted to talk to me directly. One of the questions they asked was, “Who is your hero?” I sat in silence for a moment, my mind racing, trying to come up with an appropriate answer. I fumbled around for a moment or so and then blurted out something like Bill Gates or some other such nonsense. Sure, I admired Bill for being able to do the whole Microsoft thing, you know, and become one of the richest men in the world. He was a tribute to nerd-dome, a reminder that this is America, where success is available to those who want it. Deep inside though, even though his achievement was great, a hero? That was a bit of a stretch.

Looking back, I have never really had a hero. Some people might scoff and say, hey, aren’t you a Christian? Shouldn’t Jesus be your hero? I would argue no, Jesus should not be one’s hero. A hero should be a normal person who has accomplished extraordinary feats. Someone who has been tested and proven his worth. But wait, that describes Jesus to a tee, right? Be careful. Notice I said a normal person. Jesus was far from ordinary. True, he was fully human, but he was also fully God, and therefore, by my definition at least, he should not be considered a hero. He is far above hero, he is God the Son. What about parents? Again, most parents cannot fit the definition simply because they are doing something normal, that is, parenting. Even if they do a really good job of it, hero just doesn’t fit.

So, I never had a hero as a kid. In fact, it was not until last month that I finally found a hero. His name is Marcus Luttrell. He was a Navy SEAL sent to Afghanistan to fight the war on terror. He went through hellish training to prove himself as a SEAL, and then went through a ferocious battle which still leaves me in awe. He recorded his story in his book Lone Survivor, a New York Times Bestseller. (do not read the review on that page, it will spoil too much.) As the title of the book implies, he and his team are sent in on a mission. He is the only one who makes it out. This masterful retelling of this harrowing story elicited the whole gamut of emotion from me. I laughed in joy, sat on the edge of my seat, was disgusted, got teary-eyed from sadness, teary-eyed from elation and fulfillment, and finally left felling very satisfied. The pace is quick, and even though you know the eventual outcome, the path taken to get there does not stop you rooting for those men of his group that you know will eventually die. Their bravery and heroism, their professionalism, and the compassion that ultimately led to their deaths makes these men heroes in my eyes. And lastly, Luttrell shows a brief glimpse of the enemy. Yes they are savage, yes they are determined to destroy us. But they are also a people with a rich culture of honor and respect. In the end, his enemies were those who kept him alive.

If you have a chance, I cannot recommend this book enough. If you are like me and find the world of Brittney Spears, Paris Hilton, and Heath Ledger to be unfulfilling, devoid of any real heroism, give Marcus Luttrell a chance. You won’t be disappointed.

Fighting Poverty with Ideology

2008-01-30T21:05:00.000-06:00

The other day I noticed that my gas tank was getting low. I pushed it to the max that I thought I could go before that annoying little warning light comes on and flashes its stern reminder that the dummy operating it is about to run out of gas. So I pull into the gas station and get out of my car. Given that I live in Houston, and my generally cautious nature, I always survey my surroundings. Taking a quick glance over the area taking careful note of the cars and people around me I begin to pump my gas. While the price gauge is revving up so as to gain the momentum to reach the escape velocity of my wallet I notice movement in the corner of my eye. One of the people who had been standing in the middle of the station parking lot looking bewildered was approaching. If this has never happened to you, you may not be familiar with what comes next. I swear, there must be a national convention every year where beggars all gather to swap stories of how they con all these rich-folk out of their money, you know, the do's and dont's of panhandling. It's probably called something like, "Maximizing your profits without lifting a finger!" So this guy mimics the exact con I've heard before. He approaches with a sheepish look, like he's an honest guy looking for a little help. He holds out his hand in which is about a dollar in change. "Do you have…", he looks at his hand pretending to count, pausing, and then finishes, "thirty-five cents?" If you're not familiar with this one, they do this to make you think that they are just short of a purchase, and if you'll give them that specific, yet small amount, they'll be able to buy whatever wholesome goodness the convenience store offers.

FLASHBACK: The last guy that did this to me was being yelled at by the attendant. Being oh-so-naïve those many years ago, I thought he needed extra money and the attendant was yelling at him to pay him the rest. Only later did I realize that he was yelling at him to go away and stop harassing his customers. END FLASHBACK.

This time I was less naïve and less "compassionate." And honestly, my wallet was empty. It was the end of the month. My account was dangerously low, and I didn't have anything on me. True, I had some change in my car, but you'd have to be insane to put yourself in that kind of vulnerable position where God only knows what he might do. I said, quite honestly, "Sorry man, I don't have anything on me." I swear, before I had even finished my sentence he knew he was getting shut down. He pursed his lips, squinted his eyes and glared at me, I kid you not, as if I had offended HIM! He is begging for change and because I don't have anything to give him, I am somehow the one at fault?! I was absolutely shocked. I stood there dumbfounded trying to wrap my head around what had just happened as he walked away.

Now, the point of this post is not to decry the people who are in poverty, but to address the mindset that shackles them to it. This is AMERICA! No one should starve in this country. There are programs, shelters, churches, and yes, JOBS! Take this guy for example. He was able to stand, speak, at least rudimentarily, provide basic human interaction and display basic cognitive function. He can get work. This post is not about those who are not capable of getting jobs, but those who choose not to because they would rather skate by on the generosity of people who think giving a person a hand-out will somehow serve to end poverty.

I recently had a debate with a friend about the role of government in light of the upcoming 2008 presidential elections. He supports Barak Obama. I ask him every time if he's okay with socialism, because that is what Obama is (and Clinton for that matter). They are people who stand for the redistribution of wealth by means of taxation and welfare programs. And while it appeals to the populist masses, I challenge those who support them to show me where welfare has ever served to eliminate poverty. The fact is, it hasn't. In half a century, billions of democrat dollars spent later, poverty is still a problem. The problem is not a lack of money, it's a mindset. It is people being lied to, tricked into believing that "the man" is holding them down, so the "the man" should help them out. The simple truth is that this doesn't work. It enslaves them to "the man" by making them dependent on him. In the end, it cements the very thing it was supposed to eliminate!

America was built on the principle that all men were created equal. Each of us has the God-given right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Note that small word. Pursuit. The founders had no intention of guaranteeing happiness for everyone, and that includes economic "equality," like the popularist, socialist candidates would have you believe. They devised system in which men had the freedom to pursue their dreams, their goals, their fortunes. They did NOT intend to just give it away. This country, in a little over 200 years, has accomplished what no other country in the world has, neither in this short of a time, nor in scope. We enjoy the highest standards of living, the most wealth (yes, even the beggar is richer than most of the rest of the world), and the freedom to CHOOSE how we will live our lives. From 1776 to 2008, a mere two hundred thirty-one years, the freedoms afforded this great people has allowed us to traverse the five-thousand year leap from farming with rudimentary tools, to the lone standing super-power. America is the greatest nation on the planet for the God-given freedom we enjoy, if only all of her people knew it…

I continued to pump my gas. Eventually a lady pulled up adjacent to me. He played the same game with her, and she shut him down just as quickly. I smiled inside as I drove away that she had not fallen for his con, and yet pitied the poor man, not because he is poor, but because he has chosen such a pitiful existence.

Out on a Limb (pun intended)

2008-01-23T18:00:00.000-06:00

With the loss common community activities, meeting women has become increasingly difficult in our society. Both men and women are turning to the internet in droves looking for that “perfect person,” thus evidenced by the ever-increasing popularity of social networking sites like myspace and facebook. Let us not forget online dating services like e-harmony whose constant barrage of commercials is enough to make anyone want to go celibate. But I digress. I wish I could claim that I was above this influence, but sadly, I must admit to indulging my curiosity. Let me tell you about a girl that I found online. Her name is Lucy.

Like any blossoming internet relationship it started with a short description on a website. Her career in archeology has allowed her to travel all over the world. Well-traveled… Nice. Not to mention the added level of mystique and intrigue sparked by such a unique vocation. Surely this would make for some interesting conversation. I read everything I could about her in preparation for the possibility of our one day meeting. You never want to go into a situation without all the available information. However, like anyone who has indulged in internet dating knows, appearances can be deceiving. The internet allows your best features to be highlighted while minimizing, and often completely obscuring, any faults. Would she be everything that I imagined? More? Less? Eventually, Lady Luck afforded me the chance to answer these questions. I found out that Lucy was coming to work in Houston for several months. Finally the chance to meet in person presented itself and I could move past this strange internet-only thing…

I arranged to see her a couple of weeks ago. Given that we had never met in person, I wanted to meet in a public place, no strings attached. In light of her occupation, we met at the Houston Museum of Natural Science. This would provide something to do and offer plenty of food for thought, moving from one exhibit to another. Things started off okay. Topics of interest: her past, where she came from, what she’s been doing, etc… Not many surprises there since the internet had given me a lot of this before. Other topics: culture, religion, and a little politics. Over all, it was interesting, though I don’t know that I’d want to do it again. That’s always what you want to hear right? “It was fun, but not really good enough to do again…. Sorry!” Ouch. Anyway, as we came to the end of the exhibits she suddenly seemed very quiet. She was almost a statue. Her body language said more than words ever could. It was as if a glass wall had grown between us, that vague feeling that even though you can see someone, that’s it, no other connection is available. I’m not sure what happened. I had built up this meeting for so long that now that we were nearing the end of it, I realized there wasn’t really anything left to do. I think she felt the same. Admittedly the chemistry wasn’t there, though looking back, I’m not sure she was all there either. On the internet she was portrayed as something more than she was, so in the end, I found her somewhat lacking. Going in, I had my reservations. First, she was a bit older than I would normally consider. Second, call me shallow, but she was a lot shorter than I had expected and bit bonier than I normally like. And last, I’m not sure I believed everything concerning her past. And if there isn’t honesty up front, you’re doomed from the beginning.

Overall, things didn’t work out with us. And though I wouldn’t necessarily want to meet again, I’m glad I did get the chance. You might say it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. If you are curious, here is some more information about Lucy.^{1 2 3} I think you will agree that, with the information I have provided, you’ll be able to see right through her.

Why we like horror movies

2007-12-29T21:31:00.000-06:00

Why do we like horror movies? Who in their right mind wants to be scared? Perhaps it is the mark of a decadent society that it is entertained by gore and death. Or, perhaps there is a simpler answer. I once took a psychology class or two, so therefore I must be an expert. I remember the professor putting up a chart that showed the physical responses a person displays when entertaining certain emotions. At the top of the list were two of my favorites: laughter and anger. If I recall, the chart specifically spoke to blood pressure, or adrenaline, or something of the like. I remember thinking that this is why some people choose to be angry so often. The simple truth is that it excites the body. Now, if I may speculate a little... Perhaps this is why we enjoy horror movies so much. The suspense, the gore, the anticipation that our heroes will survive, while secretly hoping for their demise. I have seen plenty of modern horror movies, most of them showing gratuitous gore, substituting innovative ways to kill and maim in the place of suspense and character development. And don't even get me started on the newest trend in Hollywood which my favorite movie reviewer has rightly deemed "torture porn." So many directors have no idea what makes a good horror film, one with the capacity to engender feelings for the protagonist without which, suspense is hopeless. To date, my favorite horror film is 28 Days Later. I end up caring about the group, hoping they will make it. The focus is not on the death and gore, but on the survivors. Like so much in Hollywood, they get often get it plumb wrong. They seem to forget that, deep down, people care about people. Appealing to morbid curiosity rather than humanity is the cheap way out. Thankfully 28 Days Later is not among the pointless horror endeavors that litter the shelves around it. This movie stands out as one of the few that creeps me out every time I watch it.

Time to Spare

2007-12-18T21:26:00.000-06:00

So... what does this seminary student do when he doesn't have to go to class? What occupies those countless minutes spent thinking about what assignment is due when and how much time you'll have to put in tonight because you've procrastinated for weeks? This last week has been a wonderful reprieve. I forgot how great it is to come home from work and realize that I've nothing to do; no, nothing at all.

With all my free time I've been trying to be as productive as possible. First, I've taken in a hearty dose of computer gaming, a past-time long since abandoned for the higher calling of seminary. It took the whole of a day to regress to my undergrad days of spending an entire day playing a single game, only getting up for the bare essentials. Oh yes, this liberation is ecstasy.

Further, since moving into my new apartment I have continued the Netflix tradition that I started with my father. I get to watch one or two movies a week, this of course scheduled around my compulsive gaming. After all, we must have our priorities straight.

As for tonight? I just got back from a free screening of the new movie Juno. Oh yes, I said free. I found out that the theatre just across the street hosts free screenings all the time. (I think I have have found a new hobby.) The movie was excellent. I give it four stars. I'm not sure how many stars a movie can get in my impromptu rating schema, but rest assured, four stars means "good movie." The movie would be hard to classify, but my favorite movie reviewer aptly describes it as a coming-of-age/teen romantic comedy. The movie left me with several cosmically important questions. First, where are all the girls like Juno? I'm Paully Bleeker all over. So, where are all the Juno's? Second, am I attracted to Juno's character, the skill of the actress, or Ellen Page herself? You might remember her as Kitty Pride from X-Men 3, or for the more dedicated film buff, Hayley from Hard Candy. After this, and seeing Hard Candy last year... wow. I think the verdict is in. I'm in love with Ellen Page. Last, and arguably the most important question of all... is it a sin to be in love with a Canadian?

Too little, too late

2007-11-06T17:00:00.000-06:00

Last week I had three one-page papers due in my Ethics class. I finished one of the three the night before. I had intended to wake up early to write the other two. When the alarm went off, I hastily hit the snooze and intentionally reset the alarm for an hour later. “I’ll do it later,” I said to myself. I got to work. Maybe I would be able to find a few minutes to churn something out… anything. Well, work was crazy busy from the moment I arrived until the moment I left to go to class. I ended up with only one of the three complete. I had spent the previous week pursuing other activities that I enjoyed more, and of course all of the obligatory engagements I had already made. “What’s one week? No big deal! I’ll turn them in a week late, take the letter-grade hit and go on with life.” Let’s be honest, a letter point difference on two assignments out of twenty has little impact on the overall grade. You’ll have to ignore the irony of actively choosing to NOT do my school work in favor of something else, and that work being papers for an ETHICS class…

So anyway, this week my professor stopped me in the hall.

Professor: “I only got one of your papers last week.”

Me: “Yeah, last week was a busy week,” I deflected, “This week I have the two I didn’t turn in last week, and also the three for this week.”

Professor: “That's good. But you can’t turn those two in.”

Me: …silence. Stunned I stood there with what must have looked like a deer-in-the-headlights expression as I suddenly recalled that he had told us he would not accept these assignments late.

Professor: “Last year I had a student who never turned anything in on time and keeping up with how much to deduct for each week became impossible. So, this year I don't allow anyone to turn in these assignments late.”

Me: “Fair enough! You reap what you sow,” I jested as I smiled sickly.

I walked away knowing there was nothing to do about that now. The effort I had spent to make up the previous week’s assignment was for naught. Instead of making a mid B on the assignment I ended up with a low F. Now, in the grand scheme of things that assignment will not affect my grade too much, so I’m not crying about it.

Later that night during his class another classmate tried to do what I had intended. He tried to turn in his assignment late. I smiled to myself at his futile efforts to convince the professor that he should take his assignment; after all, it was only a week late. Misery truly does love company. It loves to know that it is not alone, it loves to justify its actions knowing it wasn’t the only one… The professor stated at the outset of the semester that he would not take any of these assignments late. I had forgotten, really disregarded the rule, because at the time he gave us the rule I never intended to turn anything in late, therefore the rule would not affect me, therefore I had no need to remember it. (Interesting bit of self-righteous logic, eh?) However, as the semester progressed and things became more difficult, I started to stray and focus on things I would rather be doing rather than meeting the requirements previously set down. The rule I had previously set aside as "unlikely to affect me" became the source of my undoing.

How many people will stand before the throne of God when it is too late to accomplish that task given; to abide by those rules given while they still had the chance to follow them? How many will stand and plead their case in futility exclaiming all of their great efforts to make up for their failure to meet the requirements? How many people will disregard the laws of God as trivial thinking they have more time, only to realize, standing before the judge, that there is no going back, that what is done is done, or more rightly, what is not done shall remain undone? Just from this situation I know some inkling of the sensation of hopelessness that you feel in your heart, the feeling that you cannot make up lost time and meet the requirements of the past that you passed by for something more favorable. I cannot even begin to image the feeling of those who stand before the judgment seat of God only to realize that they are guilty and cannot go back. They can plead; they can cry “Mercy!” and none will be given. For, "it is appointed for men to die once and after this comes judgment." (Heb 9:27)

God help us all.

Praise God that we have NOW to believe in Christ who justifies those who cannot and will not obey God. Praise God that we have NOW to do as we ought. Will we?

Curse you both!

2007-10-23T17:50:00.000-06:00

Curse you Heroes! You have consumed me with your sci-fi gimmicks, your clever plot twists and your insatiable nature. Curse you!

And curse you Netflix! You offer instant gratification, allowing this consumption to take hold of my being, infecting me to my very core.

Curse you both!

...I'm sorry, forgive me. Please don't be mad. Please give me another dose. Come on... just on more... *click* *click* ...ahhh. That's the stuff!

Where I have been

2007-09-30T19:47:00.000-06:00

Yes I know. I am a terrible blogger! Being back from Oxford, I thought I would have more time. Alas, I do not. I had one week of down time (kinda), then back into full swing. I am taking 10 hours this semester. Lots of reading. Lots of writing. Lots of studying. In Hebrew III we are going through the book of 2 Samuel. Hebrew is a fun language... but rough none-the-less. My other two classes, New Testament I (Matthew - Acts) and Christian Ethics are easy, just time consuming.

Things I have done in the nine weeks since I've been back from Oxford, in order:
1) Moved my brother and his soon-to-be wife into their new apartment
2) Attended the funeral of my dear and beloved Pastor
3) Attended my brother's wedding (the same day...)
4) Played paintball
5) Went wake boarding with some of my closest friends, and got to visit another (one great day)
6) Played Magic the Gathering with old and new friends (Why can't we ever finish before 2:30 am?!)
7) Played paintball again
8) Ran sound for our Community Outreach night at church
9) Completed a third of my chainmail coif for this year's Renaissance festival

All whilst working 40 hours a week, commuting two hours a day (total), teaching Sunday School, maintaining some semblance understanding in my classes and working with the pastor search team to find a new pastor for our church. I apologize for not making more time to share my quirky thoughts that so enthral the masses (yes, all three of you). I will try to make a more concerted effort.

Next weekend I am attending a multi-ethnic church conference to promote interracial churches. Most evangelical churches are still segregated along racial, economic, and socio-political lines. This should not be. Our call to evangelize the world tells us otherwise.

More details later... maybe! Time will tell.

Out of Service

2007-09-23T20:28:00.000-06:00

Error 411: This blog is temporarily out of service due to network overload. Please contact your service provider for further information or check back later.

Suddenly Still

2007-08-20T19:51:00.000-06:00

I'm not sure what to do now... the earth seems to have stopped shaking.

Over the past three weeks I have written about 50 pages, about 75% of it information that was new to me. Now, some of you may not think this is a lot, but coming out of a technical degree, I consider this quite a feat. Plus, there was easily that amount on the front side of my trip. The Oxford trip was good, but it was a lot of work too. Hey, nothing that is worth having comes easy. It feels good to be done with it, and with the nine hours of credit it will ensure me. I have several stories that I hope to share in the coming week about my trip and about what's been going on here since I've been back. Stay tuned!

Back

2007-08-19T12:47:00.000-06:00

Yes, I am back from Oxford. I've been staggering, trying to catch my balance with the aftershocks of coursework. All that will be finished in two days, one way or the other. I'll post some pictures and stories from my trip soon, so check back in about a week.

The 4th, Freedom, and Radical Islam

2007-07-04T22:50:00.000-06:00

As a child the fourth of July was a time of friends, family, and fireworks. I still have fond memories of giant get-togethers. It was a warm summer evening. Lightning bugs spotted the dusk-lit field of high grass. The silhouettes of my father and friend in the distance were barely distinguishable. The rhythmic chirp of crickets, the lulling sound of locusts in the trees added to the children’s anticipation. Suddenly a loud BOOM breaks into the night. The sky explodes in a myriad of colors raining down against the backdrop of the Milky Way. Things were simpler then. A child can occupy his time with fantasy and expectation, a simple night of fireworks and watermelon.

This year, perhaps for the first time, I have come to a place of understanding concerning the freedom that we enjoy in this country, or at least I am beginning to. My classes in preparation for my upcoming trip to Oxford have required me to read about Baptist heritage and church history. It is true, in America we take for granted the freedom we enjoy. We are so far removed from the tyranny against which our predecessors fought that the matter becomes academic, if even that. Most people, including myself before recently, had no real idea what that freedom cost. Men have died just for voicing their opinion, daring to be different, daring to challenge the establishment who they feel is in error. In America we can say whatever we like and not fear repercussion, yet this was not always so. The pages of history are stained red with the blood of countless martyrs whose deaths paved the way for our modern concept of freedom. Ultimately, this freedom originates with God himself through the infinite sacrifice of his son. His death provided the means and grounds for all freedom, yet men have tried to corrupt even that, as though they could.

Currently the world is engaged in an epic war. Many people are hesitant to call it a war. Political rhetoric and ideological presuppositions blind so many people to the immediacy of the threat we face. This enemy has been called many things. Whatever his name, he is the same. He is an enemy of freedom. He is an enemy of hate. He is evil.

Radical Islam threatens to destroy the freedom we now enjoy, the freedom bought with the blood of millions. “Oh, you’re just being reactionary. Islam is not a threat. You’re just some right-wing, conspiracy theorist, religious fanatic, nut-job.” Am I? Again, we have isolated ourselves and are wandering about in a dazed stupor. Look at Europe. France has been overrun by radical Islamic youths who rioted in 2005, burning hundreds of cars and pillaging the streets. Two cars filled with propane, gasoline and nails were disarmed in England LAST WEEK! Others tried to drive their explosives-laden cars into the Glasgow airport THIS WEEK! The populous in Iran is rioting, burning gas stations. Militants in Iraq are BEHEADING people (Berg and Pearl) and dumping their bodies in dark allies! Radical Islam is the threat of our day. It seeks to enact Sharia law in Western nations. It seeks to enslave the peoples of the free world under their authoritarian, religious rule; the very thing our ancestors fought against.

Jesus said to love your neighbor¹. He also said to turn the other cheek². This leaves Christians in a precarious spot in the modern world. Are Christians to stand against evil, tyranny and oppression, or should their submissive actions act as a witness to the lost? Should Christians take up arms against radical Islam? Should a Christian join the military? These are all difficult questions.

As I ponder the lives of those lost who gave of themselves for my freedom I have a hard time standing idly by and watching evil encroach. Do I pray for my enemies? I do, though admittedly not often enough, not at a level appropriate to my other rhetoric. Do I love the enemy? I do, but how is that love actualized? How can I ask so many qualifying questions regarding the clear teaching of Jesus regarding this issue? The answer is simple. Jesus was not talking about what we face now. He was talking to Jews who would encounter other Jews, and perhaps even gentiles. Jesus was talking about singular encounters. Today we are dealing with a false religion (Islam) whose political ambitions are built into the religion itself, almost from its very inception. Today, that ambition has been realized with the blind hatred of anything that opposes it, or even appears to. Radical Muslims kill anyone who disagrees with them, be it Americas, British, or even their own people who are not “Muslim enough.” They cannot be reasoned with. They will not even sit down to reason! Giving the Palestinians the Gaza Strip and the West Bank has brought nothing but further death and destruction. They will not rest until Israel is destroyed, and the entire Islamic world is behind them with Iran’s president the chief talking head. People who are willing to kill themselves in order to kill others are not reasonable. They are clinically insane, spiritually dead, and not who Jesus was talking about.

We cannot allow radical Islam to spread. The war path of the Muslims in the 8th century and following led to the loss of a large portion of Europe, Persian, and northern Africa. With today’s technology the effects are a million times more grave. The people committing these acts are among us now. The 9/11 attackers all lived in America for years! If we do not stand and fight, there will be no one left to spread Christianity. The land of the free will be no more unless the home of the brave stand and fight.

All of this has particular meaning for me. In less than five days I will fly into London. Though America has been insulated from this chaos, it will not remain so forever. I honestly pity anyone that wakes America. We were the sleeping giant in WWII. And though our government and military might is being employed around the world, the American people are largely asleep. When America awakes, the burning fires of freedom for which those faithful many have spilled their blood will kindle into a firestorm unlike any the world has seen. In those days I fear for those Muslims who are not radicalized living in our country. When cars start exploding in our streets our people will not sit idly by like Europe has while the enemy slowly erodes their culture. And even if I am wrong, I know that those of us who live in Texas will all take up arms and fight back. God help those who seek to steal our freedom!

Happy Independence Day 2007.

A lesson in patience

2007-06-18T21:00:00.000-06:00

Lunch from Jack in the Box: Four dollars, eighty-five cents

Gasoline burned while idling with the air on: Thirty-five cents

Cost of your time spent waiting on the barber: Fifteen dollars

Cutting your hair shorter than you wanted because you were too impatient to wait any longer… Priceless

Deep Sea Fishing

2007-06-11T20:40:00.000-06:00

In keeping with this strange desire of mine to one day quit my job, sell everything I own, and sail the world on a yacht, I recently embarked on an excursion quite outside my normal comfort zone. I went deep sea fishing.

Now, first it should be stated just how much I hate fishing. Among the things I dislike most, I would rank it with spectator sports, high-pitched noises, and any form of nut in any oh-so-sweet-and-soft dessert. I’ve been fishing plenty, though mostly as a child. Perhaps it is the pungent aroma of memory of those failed endeavors that evokes such strong emotion now, who knows. Why would I subject myself to something I dislike so vehemently when there are so many other ways to get out on the ocean? God only knows...

I figured that this opportunity would give me the chance to find out if I had any real desire to live a life aboard a boat. True, the comparison is far from accurate, but I had two main objectives.
One, am I prone to overt bouts of sea sickness? And two, do I absolutely hate the actuality of a dream that up until this point was only that, a dream. Enter the New Buchaneer.

We pushed off at 7:30 in the morning, which if you do the math, means that I had to be awake at 5:30. Not cool on Saturday morning, but the early hour was quickly dismissed in the blend of a sunrise in Galveston, the smell of the water, gulls calling, and the excitement that was seeping from all the eager fishermen.

The passage out was great. The seas were only three feet, there was a nice breeze on the top deck, and the day was cool. I was standing in the lee of the cockpit when my father motioned me closer to tell me something. Leaving the shelter of the lee I quickly found the wind was much stronger near the edge. My arm shot into the air, but it was too late. The wind whipped by me and snatched my ridiculous straw hat from my head. In equal parts triumph and embarrassment, I throw both arms in the air and bowed to my friends who were now laughing.

It took four hours to get to the first fishing spot. I will admit that I got a little woozy, but I think it was more psychological than anything. If you expect to get sick then you probably will. I wish I could say everyone was so lucky. A few members of our group did not handle the gentle rocking so well and spent plenty of time with heads hanging over the backend revisiting their breakfast. One lady in particular had real difficulty, though not without her own share in the problem. I was looking at the horizon and noticed that this woman looked terrible. You know how people in cartoons get painted green when they are about to throw up? Well, this poor woman could have given the jolly green giant a run for his money. She had a little Ziploc baggy into which she was withdrawing a recent deposit. There was about an inch of bright orange goo sloshing around in the bag. That was unpleasant… I looked away. When I looked back a few minutes later, the dedication of that little woman was clear; the little baggy was almost full. You know the point at which you fill the baggy and then you close it, but are still worried that it might just pop back open? She had gone to town with that little baggy, though why she wanted to save it…

We hit several offshore oil platforms. The cries of the environmentalists are crazy. Oil platforms create an artificial reef that fish love and every fisherman knows this. The fish were swarming around the boat. You could not even count them. But, let me tell you… these fish were smart! They had perfected the method of removing the bait from your hook without actually hooking themselves. Little thieves! I quickly tired of feeding the fish and let my baited line sink as deep as it would go. Several times I could feel things tugging on the line, and several times the resistance told me I had hooked something. As I eagerly reeled in I caught the glimmer of my baitless hook from the streams of light making their way into the depths. The fish way down under were smart too! One time, by complete chance, I hooked a four foot shark that was feeding near the surface. We played a brief game of tug-o-war before he grew weary of the battle and snapped my line, taking weight, hook and all, leaving me quite sad. Yes, there were plenty of sharks. Notice the fish my friend caught? As he pulled it out of the water he loudly exclaimed, “That shark stole my fish!” The shark had come up beside the hooked red snapper and taken all the good stuff, leaving the head on the hook. I’m telling you… these fish were some kind of genetically engineered super-intelligent fish! Another noteworthy fish were the barracuda. These fish are capable of short bursts of speed up to 27 mph. When combined with their powerful jaws this makes the barracuda the guillotine of the deep blue sea. I cannot recount how many times a barracuda darted into a catch that was helplessly flailing about on the end of a line, making short work of the fisherman’s prize. One guy pulled up what would have been a beautiful fish, only it was missing half of its body that had only moments before been violently separated from the rest. “Glad that wasn’t my leg,” one of them says to laughter.

The greatest sight of the day was when my friend next to me got a big bite. You could tell it was something big by the fight it gave. The rod bent double and tried to run up and down the length of the boat. After five minutes of fighting he finally was able to raise the fish to visibility. One look at its distinctive shape and everyone knew what it was. A shark. The deckhand cries out, “Hammerhead! Get your lines up!” This thing was beautiful. Six feet and powerful. He wanted my friend to have all the chance he needed pull it up unhindered by other fishing lines. He struggled with it for a few more minutes before it snapped his line. Its hunger not yet quenched, he grabbed another friend’s line, but he made short work of it. Then he grabbed mine, but snapped my line before I had a chance to fight him. Having had his fill he returned to the depths with a full stomach, leaving an entire crew dejected. So close…

I didn't end up catching anything, but even the crew said that it was a tough day for fishing. It's all good though, I didn't come for the fish. Rather, it was a pleasant change from the normal life of go, Go, GO. I know it was different from being on a sailboat, but I accomplished both tasks. I did not get sea sick, and I did not hate being out on the water. It was a good day.

Starcraft II

2007-05-26T07:03:00.000-06:00

Last night I went to sleep at 7:30. Why, you ask, would a 20-something be in bed at that pathetically early hour on a Friday night? I could play it safe and point to the long and exciting/tiring week...

It was Wednesday night, or I should say, Thursday morning. I am in the middle of an odd dream of what it would be like to shave my head. Let me just say, it was not a pretty picture. So as I go to make another pass with the electric razor I am suddenly jolted out of my slumber by a loud, screeching noise. I immediately hurled myself out of bed and lunge at the noise. The phone was ringing. I squinted, trying desperately to cut through the dark and make out the digits on my alarm clock that was now across the room. One o'clock. Now, at one in the morning, you know that any telephone call can only be bad news. No one ever calls to tell you that you've won a million dollars. I wait for the caller ID to display on the phone, hoping to catch it before the next ring so as to avoid waking anyone else up. "Incomplete Data". Figures... There are only a few possibilities. 1) Someone has been hurt or is dead, or 2) Something at work has gone horribly wrong (which is not mutually exclusive from possibility one). I brace myself.

"Hello?"

"Mike? This is Mark from work."

"What's up?"

"Um... I need to speak to Mike."

"It's me... what's going on?"

"You know the server that you just upgraded? It keeps shutting itself down. The local tech has been out twice to restart it, and I've got him headed out there again."

My mind races. What on earth could I have done that caused the machine to shut itself down? Well, two and a half hours later I had moved all critical systems to a remote site, meanwhile the computer has shut itself down yet again! Good enough though. I had put a band-aid on that problem and could go back to sleep. I enjoyed the tepid reprise of sleep, the entire hour before I had to get back up and go to work. In all I got four and half hours of sleep that night.

The next night, intending to make up for the previous night's lack of sleep, I retired early. I am on the verge of sleep, you know, that tricky line where you're not quite awake and not really asleep? My cell phone starts going off pack of fire crackers. I force myself from my stupor and read the incoming messages. "Houston scheduler failure." "You've got to be kidding me!" Not only is this the second night in a row, but this is an error that popped up a year ago to which we never could find the cause. The only permanent solution was to reinstall windows to wipe away whatever mysterious setting caused the problem in the first place. I put a band-aid on it and made the messages stop. "So much for a night to catch up on sleep..." It was now my normal bed time.

Then Friday night I was a mix of tired, bored, and alone. Tired from the previous week of work mayhem, bored because being tired I did not want to really do anything, and alone because everyone was gone for their own Memorial Day Weekend plans. "So blah, it's seven thirty and I'm going to bed."

When I woke up this morning an old friend has left me a single message:

"[20:42] SuX: did u see sc2?"

My heart skips a beat and my fingers type like the wind. Within moments I am greeted with a splash screen announcing that Blizzard has finally begun working on the sequel to the revolutionary and timeless classic Starcraft. I once did a rough calculation of the time I spent playing the previous installment. With part pride and a measure of shame I claim a minimum of over one thousand hours. And now, to my joy and dismay, for the long-awaited sequel, and for the lack of time I have to devote to a new game, I sit in exuberant glee that at last, Starcraft II will soon be a reality.

Amnesty Intranational

2007-05-17T11:23:00.000-06:00

The US Senate is currently working on a bill that will offer illegal immigrants the opportunity to become US citizens by paying a $5,000 fine, returning to their native country, and applying for legal work visas in order to return. …Where to start? I know, how about we start with a little basic math.

There are an estimated 12 million illegal immigrants living in America. In Manhattan the average illegal earns about $12,000 a year. Anyone familiar with prices in Manhattan knows that twelve grand is abject poverty. Housing cannot even be found for that price, much less food, clothing, transportation, or healthcare, but I’ll return to this a little later. Let’s suppose that the average illegal makes double that, that we are 100% wrong. Okay, that puts us at $24,000 a year. This bill is asking that illegal immigrants pay a fine that equals 25% to 35% of their gross income! Let me put that into perspective. The average family income in America last year was $46,000. Imagine the government telling you that in order to keep your job you had to pay a $15,000 fine! Oh, and not only that, but you have to quit your job and leave the country to file for a work visa from your home country with no guarantee that your job will be waiting on you when you return. Let’s be honest shall we? The US government wants illegal immigrants to give up what they have worked for in America in order to return to the country from which they fled in the first place. Not only that, but they are supposed to put their faith in the US government who is known for their [sarcasm]efficiency and expediency[/sarcasm]. This bill is absolute rubbish. It is amnesty! Oh, but there is a $5,000 fine attached and they have to leave… NO ONE is going to leave! How are they going to enforce this? Hint Hint… THEY AREN’T! They have no intention of fixing this problem, on the right or the left. They are all corrupt, and you know what? I’m fed up! I’m sick of politicians whose only goal in their service is to maintain the status quo and their power.

Glenn Beck was on ABC this morning with Geraldo. When Beck brought up the point that the illegal immigrants were not going to be able to pay this fine, Geraldo, the over-the-top, bleeding heart liberal, said that he would start a charity in order to help these people out. Now obviously Geraldo can’t do forth-grade math. Five thousand dollars times 12 million people equals 60 billion dollars. Yeah, billion, with a ‘B’! That’s ten zeros people! Bill Gates has the largest private endowment in America and it’s only worth about 38 billion, and here Geraldo wants to create a charity to raise 60 BILLION dollars! There are 300 million people in America. If every American were to share the burden equally, then each person, man, woman and child, would have to pay $200, that’s $800 for the average four-person family! Imagine an $800 tax next year added to your 1040! Oh, and let’s not forget the fact that now it would not be a fine anymore, but rather an entitlement for people who are already breaking American law! They are felons!

If I commit tax fraud by falsifying my tax return, or God forbid, fail to even file one, the IRS is coming after me! Yet every year there are 12 million falsifications and yet they get a pass. Who is being racist now? Not me. I don’t care what color your skin is, what country you came from… as long as you are here legally! The government is endorsing state-sponsored reverse racism! Government is cashing the checks every week, and private businesses are raking it in on cheap labor.

Let’s look at that a little… By forcing illegal immigrants to work for substandard pay they are effectively isolating an entire group of people, creating a virtual slave army of cheap labor. Yeah, I said SLAVE! They are the permanent underclass, perpetual slave labor, with no hope of ever escaping. Hey Geraldo, now who’s the compassionate bleeding heart? These politicians are corrupt, every one of them. And you know what? Everyone cares (or at least has an opinion), but no one thinks they can do anything. We are so isolated from our politicians, so far from Washington, that we feel unimportant. The feeling of hopelessness is gut wrenching. I wonder which direction the country will go. Will apathy allow modern slavery to continue? In 2005 Washington DC had the fourth highest homicide rate in America¹. We’ve got to wake up! Our country is sick. There is a cancer that is eating us from the inside out, from the top down. We must stand up for the rule of law. We must stand up for freedom. We must stand up for the American way. We have the power to fix the problem, but no one wants to fix it, they just want to pander to the masses. Running this way and that and never accomplishing anything, but they sure stayed busy…

Close the border, build the fence.
Fine businesses who hire illegal immigrant labor.
Cut off healthcare, education and welfare for non-citizens.

Turn off the water before you try to fix the leak…

Slow and Steady

2007-05-06T12:28:00.000-06:00

The past few weeks have been crammed as I slowly completed all my semester papers, readings, and studying. The old saying is true, slow and steady wins the race. Today, on the way home from church I ran into this "little" fellow.

By little, I mean stetched from head to tail he was easily eighteen inches long. He didn't get that way over night. He's been around a while. He never moves very fast, but he has endured.

Soon to Return

2007-04-22T19:21:00.000-06:00

For my faithful few, you know who you are, and for the random passerby, rest assured that I have not abandoned the world of blogging. I will certainly return once the semester is over. In the next two weeks I have three books to read, three papers to write, two finals to take, and like a million verses to memorize. I also have several posts in the works that I will finish and post shortly after the blitz that is the next three weeks passes. Cheers!

Living a Dream

2007-03-20T12:10:00.000-06:00

I just finished reading a book that currently holds my highest rank for the year, so far, Living a Dream by Suzanne Giesemann. The book details the first year of retirement for military retirees Ty and Suzanne Giesemann. The book opens in a very strange place for a book about sailing adventures: The Pentagon. Ty is a retired Navy ship driver, both as Captain and Destroyerman, who has had an impressive career of Naval exploits. They were working on the West coast when Ty’s job no longer held the challenge and stimulation that he needed, so he found a great job in Washington. Suzanne was a successful career Navy woman serving as a Fleet Support Officer. Through a little social networking she ended up working in Washington with her husband, and shortly thereafter the Pentagon as an aide-de-camp to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, no small potatoes. The second chapter of her book details her experiences from 9/11. Being connected to one of the most powerful men in the country meant she saw things and did things that no other person would that day, she witnessed what will be written in history books firsthand, and recounts it with pathos and clarity. She, and those aboard the plane on which she was flying, were the only ones to see the devastation of the Twin Towers and the Pentagon, from the air, in person, in the same day. Her recounting of that momentous day brought back a stream of memories that makes me hold my head in shame.

Everyone who is of age will recall exactly where they were when they first heard what had happened on 9/11, the feeling in their stomach when they first saw the video of the plane flying into that mighty tower. I remember the feelings I had, but I also remember how quickly those feelings passed. I was a naïve child, a sophomore in college, who did not think that the events of that fateful day would really affect me. Now that I am out in the ‘real world’ I can’t help but wish I had known better, that I had been more informed. This book brought that back to me and I am grateful for that reminder. Today, we are spared the images of that day, yet without constant reminders, our memories get pushed aside as complacency tries to wash out what should be vivid images of hate and destruction; images painted in vibrant black, white and red, in lackluster shades of gray.

But I digress. Their experiences that day led them to forsake the ‘normal’ life and pursue their dream, to sell off their possessions, buy a sail boat, and cruise into the sunset. Having read every page on their site I was concerned that this book would have little to offer. I stand corrected! They followed the same path as they describe on their site, yet in more depth and with more feeling. Suzanne’s style completely engrossed me with emotion and descriptions that did not overstay their welcome. I felt like I was with them aboard Liberty living the life. I shrugged off schoolwork in favor of reading this book, and I feel better for it. Who needs Hebrew when you have a story like theirs tempting you. I have not sped through a book or enjoyed one this much in years.

Now back to my studies!

A more inconvenient truth

2007-03-16T13:15:00.000-06:00

About a month ago I received an instant message from a random person with whom I had no previous contact. To this day, who he is and from where he obtained my screen name remain a mystery. His message was simple. Everyone should see Al Gore’s movie An Inconvenient Truth, and that we must act now or the world is doomed. Now, anyone who knows me also knows that I am a news junky. I listen to talk radio all day and read 10-15 news reports a day, not counting the headlines and summaries that I review. Being so informed, I was aware of the controversy surrounding Gore’s presentation in his ‘documentary’. Armed with that knowledge I struck up a conversation with my new, albeit misguided friend. The conversation started polite enough. I highlighted the inconsistencies in Gore’s movie and was immediately attacked. I had not actually seen the movie, and freely admitted the fact. He threw expletives at me, derided my ignorance, and vehemently insisted I not talk about things I do not understand. So, I went and rented the movie. I had to admit, the movie was well thought and paints a clear picture of destruction from alarmingly increasing CO2 levels; that is, on the surface. Had I not been informed prior to seeing the movie, I might have been similarly duped. There are glaring inconsistencies in his presentation. Amongst others, he makes an error of causation versus correlation. Just because two things follow the same path does not mean one causes the other, only that they are related.

Forget a moment about the inherent problems with Gore’s movie. The best indicator of the devotion one has to a belief system is their commitment to what they preach. If Al Gore cared about, or believed, what he was saying, his lifestyle would show it. If man is causing global warming, and each person is responsible for their own contribution, then he should be setting the example. The average American carbon footprint is 18. Al Gore has a carbon footprint of over twenty times that.

If he really cared, then I have to think he would change his lifestyle. Instead, he buys carbon offsets. Carbon offsets are what environmentalists buy to feel good even though they don’t actually reduce. The theory is that you can buy carbon credit from others who are not using their allotted amount. The problem with this? NOTHING IS CHANGING! It has been rightfully compared to the indulgences sold by the Catholic Church. The entire global warming philosophy has been compared to a religious establishment, because that’s all it is. Aside from that, someone did a little research and it turns out that Al Gore buys his offsets from a company that he founded, and at which he currently serves as chairman. That means he receives a salary. In effect, he is paying himself! Contrary to Gore’s protestations, there is NOT scientific consensus that man is causing global warming. When there is, or someone can show me an equation that proves man is causing it, I’ll jump on board. Until then, all they’re doing is advancing their socialist, America-hating agenda.

A U.N. report has recently been brought to light that states that the largest greenhouse gas emissions come not from gas guzzling SUVs, but from cattle! Yes, believe it or not, cow flatulence! Everyone wants to blame SUVs, but none of the environmentalists are protesting cows, only our freedom to drive our vehicles, enhance our economy, and live our life. This report didn’t come from the evil oil companies or the numerous groups of ‘deniers’, it came from the U.N., easily one of the most corrupt and blind, left-leaning organizations in the world. If Gore had done his homework, he would have known this. If he really believed the propaganda he preached, he would stop eating meat, and urge us to do the same. Where’s that bulletin?

There is another problem that necessarily arises out of the U.N. report. If you accept the premise and follow the path to the logical conclusion your head will explode. If cows are such a problem, obviously we need to stop with the cows. We all need to become vegans. Here is where I bring my own opinion, the consequence to which I have not heard anyone in the entire media make the leap. If we become vegans, then we will consume the same amount of vegetation as the cows did before. Instead of the cows producing the methane and CO2, then man will be the largest direct contributor to green house gases through increased flatulence! So from start to end, no matter how you look at it, man is the problem, and the only solution is to stop the spread of man. Ultimately, their solution must be self destruction.

Can you see the absurdity in their premise and its necessary conclusion? Their logic fails them, or more rightly is completely absent. Gore says that global warming is a moral issue. I say it is a scientific issue. Show me the science and then we'll talk about its morality, otherwise you're just fear mongering and reactionary.

On the crisis of faith

2007-03-06T18:29:00.000-06:00

I think it is a fair statement that anyone with a deep faith in God has at some point questioned the validity of that faith. By that I mean being confronted with a severe problem, something that shakes the very foundations of your faith, something that if accepted holds the potential to completely destroy your faith. For some it is science, others a book or a movie, while others personal loss of friends or family. Last weekend the Discovery Channel aired a documentary directed by James Cameron (think Titanic) that claims that they have found the tomb of Jesus and his family, including wife Mary Magdalene, and son Judah. This is reminiscent of the attacks that came as a result of The Da Vinci Code. I don't know if Cameron has a vested interest in destroying Christian faith, or if he is just trying to make a quick profit through religious controversy, but the fact remains that a cursory survey of history is enough to disprove most of these allegations. The most damning fact to his case is that what he presents is not new, though the advertising seems to indicate this is all breaking news. The tomb was excavated in 1980! It has been around for twenty-seven years, and Cameron certainly isn't the first to make these accusations. The problem? The tomb where Jesus was buried is historically in another place, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and this documentary does nothing to honestly challenge that. Never mind that the inscription on the limestone box is not clear, nor that Jesus was a common first-century name, nor that the supposed coffin of the founder of Christianity was almost completely unadorned. All ridiculous, but I have little doubt there are those out there who will see this 'documentary' and have their world shaken to the foundations.

There is something in our society that says believing in God is out-dated. We live in a nation of absolutes where everything is observable and measurable. I find great comfort in that. The very philosophy used to deny the existence of God, I in my faith use to affirm him. Let's look at one of these absolutes. When I become weighed down by all the purported evidence that secularists use to bombard my faith all I need do is look at people. I see one absolute that secularism has yet to remedy, or even explain for that matter: man's fallen condition. The secularist will say that science, both nature and nurture, can explain all of man's failings, and that by addressing those issues, a perfect society can be created, a veritable utopia. Unfortunately for them, such a society has not been produced, even after hundreds of years and countless failed attempts, all because they deny the absolute nature of sin.

I see hurting people, who are entrenched in sin, eagerly plodding down a path that ultimately leads to self-destruction. I see people with a vacuum in their hearts, trying in vain to fill it with the empty promises of post-modern humanism. And from personal experience and observation I have seen only one thing that can save man from that emptiness, or more rightly, have met one person, Jesus Christ. Try as men might to destroy God, the grace of God reigns supreme. By his grace and to his glory we are saved, renewed, and sustained. Soli Deo Gloria!

Romans 1 ²⁰For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made, so that they are without excuse. ²¹For even though they knew God, they did not honor Him as God or give thanks, but they became futile in their speculations, and their foolish heart was darkened. ²²Professing to be wise, they became fools, ²³and exchanged the glory of the incorruptible God for an image in the form of corruptible man and of birds and four-footed animals and crawling creatures.

Road Warrior

2007-02-13T11:48:00.000-06:00

We’ve all heard the term ‘road warrior’. There was a time when I thought the term was a trite expression meant to make the daily commute more interesting. Since I have been driving these roads for three years now, daily commuting nearly an hour each direction, having spent nearly 1000 hours on this path, my sentiment has changed. Not only do I now deem this phrase valid, but I now count myself among those it describes. I admit it, I am a road warrior. I deftly dance among the hordes, fighting for rank, esteeming efficiency, daily muscling my way through the masses with staunch conviction. Yes, it sounds like a wonderful life, I know. So, what is the problem with being a road warrior? The rest of these people have no idea they’re in a battle!

Now I know what some of you are thinking. “Here is one of those jerks who is always weaving in an out of traffic, the guy who just wants to go faster than everyone else.” It’s not that I want to go faster than everyone else… just faster than these people! Everyone has a measure of ability, a certain prowess. This extends to every aspect of life. In this context, each car and driver combination has a certain comfortable speed, the velocity at which the vehicle runs optimally regarding fuel efficiency, drag, lift, noise and vibration, and at which the driver feels safe. For me, on a major highway, that speed is 85 mph. When I drove my ’85 Dodge Diplomat anything over 70 was a nightmare. By the virtue of who I was (an ’85 Dodge Diplomat) my top speed was predetermined. Each driver knows where he stacks up against the competition and should fall in line with that hierarchy.

There are certain unwritten rules of the road of which everyone is aware. Last night while driving home from class I ran up behind a twenty-something-year-old truck that was running the speed limit in the fast lane while three lanes to his right remained open. Knowing the rules of the road, and having no place to be in a hurry, I refused to go around him, and instead settled in at an uncomfortable distance to maximize the coverage of his mirror with my headlights and minimize the distance between my bumper and his. Even as other vehicles streamed around me I refused to join them lest this man feel justified in his violation. His agitation was clear as he occasionally swerved and unconsciously blocked the mirror with his arm, yet I did not budge, nor did he. Knowing the rules of the road, on some level this man knew to get over. People were streaming around him as a river around a ruined ship run aground; pressure was applied by the force of the river behind him; yet he did not move. Pride can keep us from moving when we face judgment. Pride is the root of all wrong-doing. After ten miles of relentless pursuit he finally put his blinker on. He was not finally moved by my constant pressure, or by recognizing the steady stream of people he was forcing to pass him on the right, or by the innate knowledge of his proper place in the road hierarchy, but instead by his approaching exit. I am convinced that this man had no idea he was in the wrong, that he was breaking the ‘rules’, and that judgment had come.

Though everyone knows these unspoken rules, and everyone knows on some level they have broken them, judgment by itself does little to help them see the error of their ways. What this man needed was a little nudge, someone to reach down and physically move him to the next lane. He could not do it himself. He was, by his pride or ignorance alike, wholly unable to respond and make the situation right. Let the battle cry resound, “Sola Gratia!”

I'll play your game you rogue!

2007-02-03T19:49:00.000-06:00

Ched is wise. Now that this semester is in full swing and our weekends are largely devoted to study, this little bit of nonsense is a welcomed distraction.

Here is how you partake in a round of Literary Lucky-Dipping:

1) Skillfully grab the book closest to you

2) Quickly open to page 123, go down to the fourth sentence

3) Post the text of the following three sentences

4) Name the author and book title

5) Tag an indefinite number of people to do the same (so, it could be '0')

"Although important distinctions do exist between Israel and the church, the New Testament clearly teaches that the church is neither a secondary nor a preliminary program, but the crowning product of all God's activity in history. Older dispensationalists such as Charles Ryrie indicate that the goal of history is not the church, but the millennium. During that era God will fulfill the divine promises to the nation Israel."

The Millennial Maze: Sorting out Evangelical Options by Stanley J. Greenz.

As for tagging others, I fear the buck stops here. I have no other friends that post.

A point of caution regarding the text above. This book sorts out the different eschatalogical views. This view is advocating Dispensationalism, and not having yet read the book, I cannot comment as to its validity as a reasonable theological system.

To the Horizon

2007-01-26T15:39:00.000-06:00

One thing I have learned in my few years since graduating is that the single greatest roadblock to experiencing life is myself. It is so easy to get caught up in a routine and forget that there is an entire world waiting to be discovered. So often we define ourselves based on our immediate surroundings and become confined in a prison of our own making. That which we value is trivial, and that which actually has value is trivial. I see two components to this problem.

The first is ignorance bred through complacency. We have lost the ability to read, the constant desire to learn. We learn what we need to function in our environment and cast off other knowledge as ancillary. Who can remember being in high school and hearing, or even saying, “Why do I need to know math? I’m never going to use this.” What ever happened to the idea that all knowledge is valuable and should be cherished for its inherent value, not just the dividends of profit we reap from it. If only we could break free from our sedentary nature and strive to know all things. Paul says that the knowledge of God is clearly seen in nature, therefore any study of the natural world becomes a tool to know God.

The second reason is fear. We are comfortable in what we know. The world is a dark place, that is, until we start looking around. We fear the unknown, but why? What is it about uncertainty that instills such dread in man? Meeting new people, visiting another country, starting a new job. It all goes back to faith in God. If he is in control of all things, and he works all things for the good of those who love him, then fear is destroyed. There is nothing unfamiliar that we can encounter that can take from us that certainty, that God is in control and he is more valuable than any other thing.

So if the world is so large, and we experience such a small portion of it, how can we remedy this? I don’t know if my inexperience is speaking, or if I am being taken by wanderlust, but from the earliest memory I have always been fascinated by my surroundings. I want to see and do everything. To accomplish this I think I would like to acquire a yacht and sail the world; just lift the anchor and go. Nothing too fancy of course, but you can pick up a nice sail boat for the price of an average home. Just imagine being able to travel all over the world, stopping as you please. Europe, the Caribbean, Africa, South America, the Philippines, Australia, a world of opportunity! You would meet so many people, and be able to share the gospel with people all over the world. I found this site and have been reading about this retired couple’s experience. It's intoxicating!

...Maybe I’m just crazy, but I still think it would be awesome.

Pride in the Night

2007-01-25T11:52:00.000-06:00

Today I witnessed what appeared to be an entire pride of lions at the water hole. At first it was just a couple of lionesses, but then more and more kept coming. I counted at least 5 lionesses, maybe up to seven. And I saw one adult male, unfortunately he was beyond the range of the night vision camera and too blurry to capture. At first I thought that maybe they were hunting, or returning from one, but the presence of the male throws that theory out. I guess they were all just thirsty. I wonder if there are any cubs running about...

I also caught a few turtles sunning themselves earlier.

In the blink of an eye

2007-01-23T12:00:00.000-06:00

It’s late. You’re driving home listening to your favorite radio station thinking about what you have to do tomorrow. Your nose itches. You wonder why they keep playing this song; it’s so old. You need to get gas in the morning. A bright light, a surge of adrenaline. Then... nothing.

Death doesn’t come in a black robe, he drives a truck.

A friend of my brother was killed in a head-on collision two days ago. Her car was hit by an old man who veered into her lane. She died instantly. Her name was Allyson. I knew her only by reputation, by stories, by the snapshots frozen in time, images caught on little pieces of paper. These are all that remain of her in life. I am told she was awesome to be around, a personality that brightens the entire room. Now she is gone. Her name was Allyson.

Though I never met her, I was saddened by her loss. What saddens me most is that I do not know where she is now. I did not know her heart, only what others told me of her. Will she spend eternity praising God with the angels? Has she been reconciled to God by his grace? Does she know Jesus as savior? These are questions to which I may never know the answer.

About a month ago Saddam Hussein was executed. He died instantly. As he fell from the gallows he chanted his profession of faith to the god of Islam. I can say with near certainty where he is now. Being guilty of the murder of hundreds, maybe thousands of people, directly or by their sanction, Saddam fell to his death by man’s justice. Saddam will endure God’s justice for eternity. Even a man who committed such atrocities, even for him I was saddened, because I know that apart from the grace of God I am guilty of every sin under the sun and entitled to the same.

I ‘know’ where Saddam is, but where is Allyson? How great a tragedy to not know. We are told to repent because the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand. I think it’s closer than we all would like to admit. One second you’re the most powerful man in your country, the next you are standing atop the gallows. One moment you are a twenty-year-old girl with you’re entire life ahead of you, driving home, thinking about trivial matters, then time stops and eternity stretches out before you as you stand before the judgment seat of God.

During a recent conversation with a friend we discussed why we feel so motivated to strive to share the gospel when you’re on a mission trip. Simply, time is short. You know that soon you will have to return home and these people may never have another opportunity to receive salvation. Yet when we return to our ‘normal’ lives we settle into the mundane, the ordinary, forgetting that people of the Spirit are never to be classified as ordinary. We forget that time is short! So much shorter than we think. Soon we will leave this place, we will return home. Will our friends, our families, meet us there? Are they there waiting for us now? Jesus said he is the only way to the Father. How will they know if they never hear? How can we sit by as those we love perish? So often heaven and hell seem so far away. Yet here I find them revealed for what they are, the eternal outcome that is both real and immediate.

Her name was Allyson.

Breaking News! - '24' Characters Not Original

2007-01-20T21:00:00.000-06:00

Breaking News! It has come to my attention that the break-out television sensation ‘24’ may have plagiarized two of its main characters, and as such could be open to a host of lawsuits. That’s right, the good people of America have been duped into thinking this stunningly original series was anything but derivative! The creators of ‘24’ virtually lifted two of its characters from the animated series ‘Inspector Gadget.’ “What on earth are you talking about?”, you say. It’s true, both Chloe O’Brien and Jack Bauer are frauds. Before you get defensive and start hurling your insults at me, first consider the evidence.

Chloe bears a striking similarity to Penny. Think about it… They both have blonde hair, but regardless are the brains behind the operation. Let’s not forget that both have a computer that can seemingly hack into anything, be it highly secure government files, or a refrigerator motor, they can do it. “But wait!”, you exclaim. Penny was a cute and lovable little tike, while Chloe has some sort of ‘personality disorder’. Obviously the creators of ‘24’ didn’t want to be too obvious, so they did the next logical thing. Please see this derivation.

When you cross Penny with a head of broccoli, lo and behold, you get Chloe O’Brien. Scary isn’t it?

“Okay, okay, maybe they stole Chloe, but Jack? Come on, we both know that’s sacrilege!”

Is it? Let me continue. Jack bears a striking resemblance to Inspector gadget himself. With the help of Penny, er, Chloe, they can get out of just about any situation. They both work for people that are pretty much clueless, and let’s not forget that each has a catchphrase that is identifiably them. (You know what I’m talking about.) Last, and certainly the smoking gun of our case, they both have had a substantial part of them removed in order to make more room for superhuman abilities. Inspector gadget likely has no skeletal structure, internal organs, or brain, while I’m pretty sure that Jack had his soul surgically removed during season one.

“Fine, I suppose I can grudgingly admit some similarity, still, Jack and Inspector Gadget? Still too much…”

Again, look at this derivation, and I think you’ll be forced to agree.

Crossing Inspector Gadget with a rottweiler invariably creates Jack Bauer, a man who’s not quite a man, and who’s vicious nature and lack of a soul makes him the ultimate weapon. Something happened to Jack while he was in China though. I think they stole some of his tools, and now he’s left with a gaping hole where his soul/abilities used to be. Season six will undoubtedly be the best season yet as Jack has to decide between his lost passion, or his long lost soul, a journey that may very well finally destroy him. Call me a sadist, but I’m rooting for the old Jack Bauer, the one who will do anything whatsoever to get the job done.

Let’s hope they can let this flagrant violation of intellectual piracy pass so that we are not denied the oh-so-addicting weekly dose of the drug that is ‘24’.

Cyber Safari

2007-01-17T12:34:00.000-06:00

A co-worker sent me a link this week that opened the door to a veritable cyber safari. There is a camera setup overseas that allows us to stream live images from a waterhole straight from Africa. This thing is great. Just take a look at a few pictures that I took just this morning.

*Added 1/19/2006
These pictures capture some sort of native deer, a lion cub (maybe a lioness), and a family of baboons. I've heard stories of giraffes, rhinos and hippos too. Some people even claim to have witnessed kills here. All I know is that I'm hooked. I love this thing! What do you think?

Pointless Insight

2007-01-12T07:08:00.000-06:00

I had to travel to a field office this week for a last minute project change. Reflecting on my trip I have the following insights to share. You know you’re in a small town when:

There is only one main road in town, and its speed limit is 25 MPH
Groups of teenagers hang out at the local Wal-Mart
People give directions in relation to ‘the light’
The locals are excited at the building of a new restaurant that nobody likes
You work with two guys named ‘Roy’… who are related
You leave work and your only companion in the parking lot is a tumbleweed

Lesson learned this week:

Yelling at the fe-mailman, even by mistake = a bad idea

2006 - A year in review

2007-01-02T11:41:00.000-06:00

Another year has passed. I look back on my accomplishments and wish I could say that I lived this year to the fullest, that I had done all that I had intended, achieved all my goals, been the person I ought to have been, obeyed my God as is fitting in his sight; but if I am to take an honest account of my life I must admit failure, at least partly. I know there were times that I passed up an opportunity to share the gospel, when I misspoke while teaching out of ignorance or haste, when I was not a model of integrity for those around me, or even in secret, when my own moral failures weighed down on me like a mountain of guilt threatening to crush me beneath their enormity. That being said, that I acknowledge so many failures does little to diminish what I consider to be a successful year, both in leadership and continued personal growth. Below I present a list of some of what I consider to be the major milestones of personal import in 2006.

January through June

Started running the sound system at church. An arduous journey of humbling failures that still progresses as I attempt to convey the perfect sound to people who otherwise have no knowledge of my existence. A truly thankless position.

Started teaching youth on Wednesday nights. Gaining the trust of kids who have had so much taken from them is difficult. Originally I took the position as a favor to another, and stayed on long after for the opportunity to make some positive impact in the lives of these kids whom I have come to care for.

Felt an overwhelming conviction to enroll in Seminary. I always knew in the back of my mind that I would like to go some day, but it never surfaced until one day I could not stop thinking about it. I enrolled and began classes in the fall.

Working with our music director I co-produced and directed the Easter presentation at Church. It was a dark and somber look at the path Jesus took to the cross and that which he accomplished there.

I completed my second presentation of Financial Peace University, the thirteen week course designed to help people get control of their finances. Those who attended, by their own profession and to the glory of God, have made extraordinary strides to free themselves from the bondage of debt.

In May I joined the blogosphere. This place has been a wonderful sink into which I have poured many hours of thought and pondering, sharing the insightful and mundane alike with my few, but faithful readers.

July through December

Ordered and constructed a suit of ghillie. Wearing my battle dress and with nerves of steel, I continuously wreak havoc on those who wander into my web.

I returned to the world of academia by starting classes at SWBTS. The path was difficult and forced me to be more purposeful in the allocation of my time. I completed my first semester with a 4.0, a first since high school, a feat never accomplished during my undergrad.

Started a project of home improvement that has grown beyond the scope of its vision. We painted the majority of the house in cool colors forever banishing the drab off-white that haunted us for years. We installed tile and wood flooring throughout the main living areas. It looks like a new house.

Made contact with several long, lost friends. Some through people networking, others by sleuthing the internet. As much as I disparage MySpace, it is an excellent tool for finding people that you haven’t thought about in years.

General Accomplishments

Completed chapters 3 through 6 in the book of Romans with my Sunday School class. Much to their dislike, we have slowly combed through this book as I present John Piper’s teachings of this, the greatest and most comprehensive single presentation of the gospel in the Bible.

This year I think I finally was able to begin to grasp, not just ackowledge intellectually, but really savor, the idea of justification by faith through grace, that no work was done, nor could ever be done, by me to secure my salvation. I remember when this first hit home as I was preparing for class, in the midst of chapter three, tears began to well up in my eyes. I am not an emotional person, and tears in my eyes is the equivalent of another person weeping in the quiet of their room in the dark of night. The beauty of that revelation still makes me stand in awe when I contemplate the magnificence of the love of God, that he would save one such as I.

Renewed contact with family near and far. Early in the year I felt bored. I did not seek a new hobby, as those are ephemeral. I later realized that relationships are important, not secondary to the human experience. We were created to be a community and that drive exists in some measure in all people. Likewise, I expanded and redefined relationships with current friends, sometimes painfully, but those with whom I have made the effort, I feel more at peace with the result than had I not addressed the underlying currents that sought to destroy the tenuous bonds of friendship.

Much has been gained this year. I thank God for another year, and pray that I do not squander the time I have to serve him amidst the trivial and fruitless expressions of menial human pursuit that so often define the lives of God’s people, whilst a hurting generation unknowingly yearns for purpose beyond the empty lie that has promulgated; that the ultimate pursuit of satisfaction can be found anywhere save in the presence of God’s unfathomable love.

Serene

2006-12-22T23:20:00.000-06:00

Okay, so I'm hopelessly in love with the Lord of the Rings movies. Of interest to this post, the music is outstanding. Two quick thoughts. One, Renée Fleming is just awesome. Her voice in RotK is an instrument. If I could fall in love with a voice, it would undoubtedly be hers. Second, the song at the closing credits, performed by Annie Lennox, Into the West, is so serene. I've had it in my head all day since I finished the movie this morning. It's so sad, so soft, so wonderful. If you don't like LotR, you should. If you've never listened to this song, you should. It's enchanting, seriously, I think I have a problem.

Christmas Cheer

2006-12-18T12:22:00.000-06:00

It is Christmas time again. The temperature is dropping, the radio is playing the standard rotation of the holiday classics, stores are packed with eager shoppers looking for the perfect gift and Christmas parties abound with family and friends. As for me, I’m dead inside. I am not ambivalent to Christmas, by no means. It is the time we celebrate the birth of Jesus, the greatest gift ever given to mankind, salvation in the person of a newborn child. Even so, I am not looking forward to it either. I can remember being a child, when Christmas was the best time of the year. The house was decorated with all my favorite keepsakes, my mother baking cookies, snow on the ground and presents wrapped under the tree. As the day approached my anticipation started to boil over. I’m sure it was even more fun for my parents, considering that I was jumping off the walls the other three hundred sixty-four days of the year. Christmas eve was perhaps the most exciting day of the year, because in just a few hours Santa would come and leave presents. I remember waking up early one Christmas, probably around 4 AM and walking out to see what treasures Santa had left us. Happiness erupted when I saw the giant box of Legos. I spent a few minutes looking over the box carefully, and then went back to my bed, happy. I remember Christmas dinners with family up North, with my family down South; all wonderful experiences. Yet those are just memories. Pale imitations, glimmers of another life. All the things that as a child so enthralled me have passed into tedium, but have not been replaced with their adult equivalent. In the wake of their departure I am left hollow. I have tried faking it and hoping the real feelings would follow; you know, trying to jump start the process with a little positive reinforcement. All to no avail.

I think the problem stems from several roots. Most notably, as a child, Christmas was all about getting presents. All the other things were secondary. Now that I have a job, there is no physical thing that I want that I cannot buy myself. Even if I didn’t have a job, things still do not interest me. The things I want now cannot be bought in stores, cannot be ordered online. That is why I tell people that I don’t want anything for Christmas, because the things that I do want are not typically in their power to give.

You might say I should be thankful for what I have and rejoice in that, and I am and do. I am thankful from the bottom of my heart everyday for all that God has blessed me with, my family, my friends, my job, etc... However, being thankful and what I know as the Christmas feeling, are two separate things. Maybe this is a part of growing up. Maybe those feelings are supposed to leave, or mature into something else. I just hope that those feelings don’t leave me where I am. Apathy. a – prefix: without, no; pathos – feeling. What a terrible thing.

The rise and fall of the mighty monster of old

2006-12-15T10:11:00.000-06:00

I stand victorious on the mountainside, the burnt remains of the Hebrew monster still smoldering amidst the blood of my slain comrades. It was a valiant battle, but alas, he stood no chance for the prepared warrior. I spent the morning in solemn meditation, carefully reviewing the battle forms. This foe is largely predictable, yet there exist slight deviations from his normal patterns that require careful attention lest he gain a fatal blow.

I arrived at the appointed battleground early. The enemy had yet to emerge from his lair. A fellow warrior was already surveying the grounds, another had come and gone, avoiding having to face the imminent conflict for as long as possible. Slowly warriors approached, some eager, others wary. Tension bristled in the cool evening air. Emotions charged the air like a summer storm, ready to strike. Then the beast emerged. He walked to and fro before the armies of God, those valiant warriors pledged to do battle this day, taunting them, daring them to face him in one-on-one battle. No one moved. Seeing our apparent lack of conviction, and feeling that victory was his, the beast charged the lines. Some of the warriors, resigned to their own fate, fell quickly and without much fight. Others fought with wild fury, yet none could quell the storm of his relentless attack. The beast then turned to me. His forms were predictable. I anticipated his every move, my preparation guarding me as armor. Lunge, parry, thrust, strafe. He could make no advance that was not easily avoided. Then he tried something tricky. He faked one form and tried to attack with its nearly identical twin. But he couldn’t fool me. I saw the dagesh forte that signaled the intensive Piel maneuver. I made one final thrust, and my blade hit true. The beast made one final cry, reassuring me that he would soon rise again, and fell before me in what can only be described as a fantastic display. A blinding light shone forth from the fatal wound, his eyes turned black and fire engulfed him from the inside out. Something tells me we will meet again, but for now, I am the victor!

Happy HanaRamaKwanzMas

2006-12-10T21:00:00.000-06:00

In the spirit of this joyous season, let me be the first to wish you a ~~Merry Christmas~~ ... or... maybe ~~Happy Holidays~~ ... hmm... I know! Happy Winter! I once had a Christian friend actually disagree with me that people were actively trying to subvert Christianity by removing it from the public sphere. With case after case, and each ruling by the activist judges, it seems all too apparent. Luckily, some studets at t.u. (pardon me, old habits die hard) decided to parody the nativity by creating a politically correct display, something that would be acceptable to the ACLU (American Civil Liberties Union).

The full story can be read here
Take note that Mary has been replaced with Gary, the three wise men are Lenin, Marx and Stalin, and the shepherd is girded with an IED belt (improvised explosive device). I love it. I think the display is fitting. I'm glad both sides are able to see the humor in it. However, keep in mind that in every joke there is a glimmer of truth.

America has been attacked by the diversity police over the last fifty years. We are told that belief systems like Christianity are not inclusive, and therefore are wrong. We are told that each belief held by another is equally valid, regardless of what is true, because those who advocate this position are under the persuasion that truth is subjective. We are told to explore other ideas, and that we should be accepting of anything that comes along. This is a reverse form of censorship, contrary to the Constitution, and contrary to the nature of man. The progressives, note that is a code word for liberals, want to keep things changing, progressing. They want us to believe that newer is always better, the benefit of change always supercedes establishment. Guess what, newer is not always better. Some things are right the way they are. American culture for one. If you want to learn about other cultures, fine, learn, but don't disparage ours. Even more so with religion. God has it right. When he said, "Don't do it," I think it's a good idea to listen. God's rules haven't changed, because HE doesn't change.

This leads me back to Christmas. Other religions have their celebrations, but it is incredulous for businesses to be afraid of ACLU lawsuits over the use of the word Christmas, or to make reference to one religion (Christianty) over another. This is America, and guess what... we celebrate Christmas. If you don't like it, deal with it. No one is pushing their beliefs on anyone by saying merry Christmas. Beliefs are being shoved down the proverbial throat when we as a society are afraid to express our beliefs for the sake of offense. What about the things that offend Christians, or more generally, good American people? How about corrupt politicians, national debt, pornography on prime-time television, institutionalized secularism, Paris Hilton, activist judges, NAMBLA, PETA, ALCU, hypothesis pseudo-science being taught as fact, illegal imigration, politically correct war strategy, diversity training, Britney Spears, a nuclear Iran, public schools teaching to the lowest common denominator, and oh yes, the ever-present, full-force onslaught against Christianity; but I digress.

To all the detrators out there, I wish you a very, merry, Christmas!

Katrina and Rita are memories... at least should be

2006-11-30T23:30:00.000-06:00

I’m pretty sure that my head is about to explode.

A federal judge ordered the Bush administration Wednesday to immediately resume making housing benefits available to thousands of victims of Hurricane Katrina.

U.S. District Judge Richard J. Leon said the Federal Emergency Management Agency failed to adequately explain why it ended the 18-month housing assistance program for people who lost their homes in the 2005 storm. More…

Why don’t people get it?! The welfare state goes contrary to what the founding fathers envisioned. That is why they created a representative republic rather than a true democracy. They knew that in a democracy that the majority would inevitably seek to redistribute the wealth by using a simple majority vote, because they knew the simple fact of life, that the majority of the wealth always resides in the hands of the few. Here we have the victims of a natural disaster, over a year since it hit, still crying for someone to help them. Most of these people are able-bodied adults capable of working and finding a residence on their own. Look what the welfare state has done to these people. A year after the hurricanes hit and they are still incapable of providing for themselves. It’s pathetic. These are grown people who are incapable of providing the basic necessities of life. In effect they are children, taught to be wholly dependent on others for their survival. I’m all for helping people who have lost everything, but I have NO intention of picking up economic leeches and carrying their weight over a year after the fact. If they can work, let them work! It is not my job, or anyone else’s job to pay for their laziness. The welfare state DOES NOT WORK, and the pit of liberal corruption that was Louisiana proves it. Personal responsibility destroys any argument the liberal cry-babies can muster.

Sunday School Discussion

2006-11-29T12:48:00.000-06:00

As promised last Sunday, it is my desire to change the format of our Sunday School class so that we shift from my trying to lecture, to all of us discussing the material together. As such, this week we will be discussing John Piper's sermon on Romans 6:20-22. Piper provides the base text for his sermon, as well as the audio. It is not very long, and you can listen online or download it for a later time. I encourage everyone to listen to the sermon and write down questions, comments, disagreements, anything that strikes you, as you listen.

Also, as a reminder, we will be meeting upstairs above the kitchen for now on. Class starts at 10 AM, and I look forward to seeing each of you this Sunday.

Thanksgiving

2006-11-27T13:25:00.000-06:00

In reply to Ched's post.

Whenever people are asked to share what they are thankful for I get a strange desire to come up with something unique, something that breaks away from the mundane and the trivial, something that people haven't heard so many times before; almost as if I were in competition with them. Yet I am quickly reminded that the forgiveness of sin is not trivial, it is not mundane. It is the source of my joy, my hope, the defining key that opens the door to life in what would otherwise be complete chaos and despair. This year I am thankful, from the depths of my soul, for God's saving grace, his mercy, and his continuing love for a sinful person like me. I pray I never file away what God has done through Christ as trivial or mundane. I pray I never settle from the emotional torrent that accompanies the realization of what exactly has been done on my behalf. On the contrary, I pray that God make it ever more precious to me. As I continue to experience God, each moment should be seen through divine lenses, that none of it is possible save for the work of Christ alone. Praise God!

Sola Scriptura

2006-11-14T12:41:00.000-06:00

This is what happens when traditions and the rule of man supplant the inherent authority of the Word of God and are used to lead the church; the complete compromise of biblical principle and acceptance of sin amongst God’s people.

Catholic bishops debate gay ministry

BALTIMORE - The U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops is debating how parishes can be welcoming to gays while also upholding the teaching that gay relationships are "disordered."

The proposed guidelines before the bishops Tuesday, called "Ministry to Persons with a Homosexual Inclination," condemn discrimination against gays, acknowledge that many try to live faithfully and state that it's not a sin to be attracted to someone of the same gender. more…

Where is the debate? Why use an appeasing phrase like, “disordered?” God does not call homosexuality disordered, he calls it an abomination. It is not okay to have homosexual thoughts and not act on them, that’s just as bad! Jesus said if you look at a woman with lust in your eye then you have committed adultery with her in your heart; you do the math. It is the condition of our heart, the readiness of our soul that interests God, not merely our actions. If actions alone could save, we wouldn’t have needed Jesus, and the scribes would not have been denounced as a brood of vipers. Jesus came so that we might have life, and have it more abundantly. He wants us to be free from the sin that is eating away at us like a cancer. This infestation of pervasive thought among the Catholic leaders will ultimately be their undoing. Just as you would not ignore a cancerous growth, you cannot compromise with sin, you must not. Instead we are to be transformed by the renewing of our minds, that though it has not yet been revealed how we will be, we know that when we stand in the presence of God, we will be like him. We cannot be like God if we desire to live in our sin more than we desire the things of God. Instead of trying to coddle the masses, mired in their sin, perhaps the church should try preaching the truth, as we promised, and letting God heal people, like he promised.

Looking into the future

2006-11-11T22:57:00.000-06:00

These stories do not bode well for us. We have long been seeing what moral abandonment has done in western Europe. We've also seen the fate of the feminist movement, where some countries’ populations are actually declining because their women no longer feel the need to be women, as they futilely seek to be men, while being a woman, or some such nonsense. This headline should illustrate the absurdity to which Europe has fallen. It is like looking into the future, only no one will admit it because they are afraid of the social consequence of being labeled a misogynist by the feminazis.

Town gives women equal footing on road signs

A Spanish town council has vowed to banish sexism from street signage by demanding half of all road signs and traffic lights show female figures with skirts and ponytails.

These people are insane!

And let's not forget our liberal friends to the north... That's right! Our wacky northern neighbors, those crazy Canadians are up to their same ole shenanigans!

Hundreds to compete for rock, paper, scissors title

Think rock, paper, scissors is a children's game? Think again.

Top players from around the globe will gather in Toronto this weekend to compete for a C$10,000 (USD$8,840) prize and the title of world champion.

Savage is right, liberalism is a mental disorder. All we can do is sit back and enjoy the show, because the world as we know it is doomed.

The sky is falling

2006-11-08T16:30:00.000-06:00

The sky is falling, the sky is falling! Democrats have officially won control of the House and unofficially the Senate. I must say, I am glad the Republicans lost, but I am equally horrified that the Democrats won. The Republicans abandoned their conservative base, and their base rightfully abandoned them. They did not secure the border and they spent our money like drunken Democrats. The major media outlets cite two main causes for the shift in power, namely voter disgruntlement over the war in Iraq and perceived corruption.

Two problems with that logic. First, the corruption is not one-sided. The libs have spent the last four years playing the corruption charge, pointing fingers across the aisle, ignoring their own corruption. I’m not even sure what corruption they are citing… Perhaps the Tom Delay pseudo-indictment? Or the Jack Abramoff scandal? Maybe the Mark Foley fiasco? Delay’s indictment was political at best, underhanded at worst. Abramoff had ties on both sides of the aisle, which is why it disappeared from the media outlets. And Foley is gay, a lifestyle championed by Democrats, yet used as a wedge to drive discontent between the GOP and their conservative base. Corruption was perceived because it was pushed in the Big Media, and most voters are not aware of anything more than they are told, they do not look at the information themselves and make an informed decision.

Second, the war in Iraq. The pollsters ask inept questions like, “Do you approve of the way the war has been handled,” or, “Do you think we need to change direction in Iraq?” I would emphatically answer no and yes, respectively, but neither would lead me to vote for Democrats! I think the war effort has been largely political, trying to apply the least amount of force to the problem. I say we unleash the power of the US military giant against the enemy and stop coddling them. We need to show power and force, but that is not the direction the Dems are going to take us. They will try to set timetables for withdrawal, halt funding, etc… Anything to undermine the war effort. God forbid that Iraq fall into civil war where the strongest faction takes control. It will be ten times worse than when we went in.

Lets not forget minimum wage increase, higher taxes, inflation (which has been nonexistent under the GOP controlled congress), abortion and embryonic stem cell research, open borders, constitutional rights to enemy combatants, and of course, the ever continuing moral degradation of the fabric of America heralded by the liberal leaders. I wish the failures of the GOP did not necessitate the shift in power to the liberal maniacs, but I believe it necessary to awaken the Republicans. I fear the results of the liberals actions to come will bring bad heaped on bad, and hopefully it will refocus the conservative movement. That the two aformentioned reasons for the Democrat victory are not solid backing for their liberal agendas proves one thing to me, not that American sentiment has shifted to Democrats, but that it has shifted away from Republicans. People did not vote for Democrats, but voted against Republicans (or just abstained from voting). As a result, this shift is temporary. What will happen in the interim however chills me to the bone!

I needed something to cheer me up, and this picture did the trick! LOL! Look at them!

Unlikely Inspiration - Feline Fancies II

2006-11-06T11:40:00.000-06:00

This is a continuation of the Unlikely Inspiration Series.

As a child my parents imparted a good piece of advice: Take what you want, but eat what you take. The idea was that you could eat what you wanted, but make sure you are actually going to eat your food and not put it on your plate only to waste it because your eyes were bigger than your stomach. I wish I could impart this wisdom to our cats. They have become spoiled in that they will cry for food, even if there is food already in their dish. I can't recall how many times one of the cats has sat in the hallway and cried, then motioned that they want to be fed by walking to their dish and sitting expectantly. I have no qualms with feeding them. I'm not some sadist who enjoys tormenting them or anything. Imagine my frustration however when I go to feed them and find a bowl still half full of food! There must be a reason for this behavior. I have experimentally ruled out that the food has grown stale and that is why it has been left. The only explanation I have is one of self-preservation. The cat knows that when the bowl is empty that it will be out of food. Now, that may seem trivial, but for an animal of limited cognizant ability, I consider this an amazing feat. The cat is actually planning ahead so as not to be without food at a later time, perhaps after I have left for the day. They will even go so far as eating food from the other cat's bowl so as to maintain the level in their own dish. Self preservation is a trait shared by almost all animals, from man, all the way down to the lowest orders. It is a part of our makeup, so I acknowledge it, but it also disappoints me. If the cat knows enough to know that eating its own food will cause it to be without food at a later time, then it should also be aware enough to know that I will not let it go hungry, that I always feed them. Since the cats petition me to be fed, I know they understand that I am the one who feeds them, so they have not forgotten that fact. However, they are so focused on the immediacy of their bowl and its contents that they ignore the aforementioned fact. Their faith in me is trumped by their desire for self-preservation, as they see it. Food is here and now, while what I will do later is up for speculation.

Unfortunately for them, I will not play the puppet to this desire. I force them to trust that I will feed them more. If they have even a morsel of food left I will not add to it. This leaves them with a choice to make. Trust that I will feed them more when the dish is empty, or go hungry so as to ensure food is around later. Do you see the irony in this, the insanity? They do not want to go hungry, and to avoid going hungry, they go hungry! My rule is, "Finish what you have and I will give you more." I have found the best way to reassure them is to sit down and watch them finish their food off. It lets them know that I am aware of their problem, and am there to resolve it, but that it will not be resolved until they do their part.

O, if only I had the faith in God that I require of my own pets! How many times has God placed something before me and told me to complete it, yet I look to the horizon for something else, all the while ignoring the nourishment right in front of me? How many times has God told me to, "finish what I have given you and I'll give you more?" Is this not the point of the parable of the talents? If I ignore what I have been given for the sake of self preservation, will I not anger he who gave it so that I might prosper? The LORD is my portion, therefore I have hope in Him.¹ I ask God to give me more, to satisfy some desire, all the while ignoring that I have been given something for right now. How many times has God had to sit down beside me to reassure me that he is near and that he will provide for my needs? "Little man, why do you not trust me?"

"Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they?"

Texas Renaissance Festival

2006-11-01T11:30:00.000-06:00

Last weekend we (Jarod, Stephen, and Chris) went to the Texas Renaissance Festival.

I should have dressed in costume.
Ded Bob still rocks.
Seeing people drunk before noon is funny. Except for the drunk guy in the Ded Bob audience who kept yelling the wrong stuff, but seemed to be having a good time in his drunken stupor.
The food gets better every year.
Best costume award goes to a couple who looked JUST like Captain Jack Sparrow and the female pirate captain Anamaria.
It's a lot more fun now that I have money to spend.
New shows are fun to check out.

I love this place, there is no place like it.

Happy Halloween

2006-10-31T12:00:00.000-06:00

Every year at Halloween I hear the same diatribe on celebrating Halloween. Detractors seem to think calling it a Fall Festival is any different. If the children are allowed to dress up in costumes, play games, and get candy, guess what… it’s HALLOWEEN! The legalists among us seem to think that the origins of Halloween should disqualify Christians from involvement. They say its Celtic origins in pagan mysticism make it a night of evil. I acknowledge its historic origins, but lets look at the facts. The Celtic practices that brought us this night are all but forgotten with a liberal estimate of 1% practicing today in the US. Ninety-nine out of 100 people could not even tell you the origin of the night if you offered them a million dollars. The children who dress up and trick-or-treat have absolutely no knowledge, or care, about the origin. The same could be said for adults. Halloween, much as every other holiday, religious or not, has been assimilated into American culture, and is as much an American holiday as the Fourth of July. The holiday is not the worship or fear of spirits, the dead, or ritualistic pagan sacrifice. It is a time to dress up in a costume, get together with friends, and have a good time. So to those who want to make a big deal out of it on some self-righteous religious power trip, to you I say: grow up. Honestly, take a look around. We live in a country obsessed with money, sex and power, and you think putting on a costume one night a year makes any difference? What about the masquerade that we all play every day, putting on our mask to hide the true condition of our hearts? What about the sin we tuck away and hope no one will recognize? What about the pride we stand behind as we condemn those around us? What about the empty pit of despair that is destroying marriages, teenagers, and children; the pit revealed when we begin to realize that the treasures promised by materialism and naturalism fail to satisfy our longing for purpose. Who cares if we dress up in costumes, if we have jack-o-lanterns, if we tell ghost stories. “I have become all things to all men so that by all means I might save some.” Let’s stop being modern Judaizers, stop focusing on the little things like what we call one night of costumes and candy, and focus on the real problems that are destroying our friends and family.

Happy Halloween!

What they won't tell you

2006-10-30T14:23:00.000-06:00

Most people aren’t news junkies like I am, and further most people aren’t explicitly aware of the overwhelming liberal bias in the major media outlets: television, newspapers, magazines, etc… This month has been touted as the “deadliest month this year” for American forces in Iraq, and the fourth deadliest since the war began. If you recall, when the death toll reached the 2000 mark the media spent days running that headline.

With each passing milestone, as they put it, you can see their fervor gaining. They are practically foaming at the mouth, bouncing in their seats trying to contain themselves. Their glazed eyes of death longingly gaze to the horizon, eagerly awaiting the wonderful exposé they have planned for the 3000 death mark. They can’t wait until the death toll reaches the count of those lost on September 11th. With each death, they do not care for the soldiers lost, the families they leave behind, or the cause for which they willingly gave their lives: freedom for the Iraqi people, and safety for Americans, and the rest of the world; but rather shamelessly use their noble sacrifice to further their own liberal, America-hating agenda. They would have us believe that Iraq is a pit of despair where hostile resistance to American intrusion cuts to the core of every Iraqi. They will not show the truth. They are so heavily invested in our defeat that they cannot change course now. We all hear stories about the good things going on in Iraq, but Big Media won’t show it to you. Thankfully there are a few honest people out there. Watch this and tell me if those men and women who gave their lives did so in vain.

Know the Enemy

2006-10-23T11:30:00.000-06:00

“All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.” Edmund Burke

Most of us have never considered the possibility that someone actually wants to kill us, personally. This weekend I finally got a chance to sit down and watch Obsession. I ordered this privately distributed DVD direct from its creators a month ago. No US distributor will touch it with a ten foot pole. They are afraid. The truth does not interest people, only the dollar. We face an evil unlike any known in the history of mankind. The threat posed by radical Islam has infected hundreds of millions of people across the globe. Their stated goal: to destroy the West, specifically Israel, the UK, and the US. This movie shows the threat for what it is, and is a must see for anyone. We are living in 1940, evil and hate are spreading across the world like fire, and we are oblivious the the looming threat amidst our isolationist mentality. We watch TV, go to school, work and play. We are aware there is a world beyond us, but we do not care about it, to know about it or to cope with it. Radical Islam is unlike any enemy we have faced before. It is not unified under the flag of a nation, under the military genius of some conquering warlord. They are splintered throughout the world, they are living here in America amongst us, and they have one goal, our destruction. How much longer can we ignore the threat we face? How much longer will we ignore the signs of what is coming, what indeed now is? We have forgotten World War 2 and are doomed to repeat it, only this time there is no unified force with which to contend. I know that you haven’t seen this movie yet. Buy it.

www.obsessionthemovie.com

Military might alone will not win this war. We are fighting an ideology held by adherents who believe their mission comes from God himself. The propaganda machine used to brainwash these people cannot be destroyed with bombs; at least not entirely. We must educate. In the meantime, we must be aware of the threat and be prepared to face it, as a nation and as individuals. We must pray for our enemies, and at the same time be prepared to defend ourselves to the death.

Astroworld

2006-10-17T10:45:00.000-06:00

Yesterday I was looking at Google Maps, one of the coolest toys ever, and I noticed that they still have aerial shots of Astroworld. I drive by where Astroworld once stood twice a week, and I assure you, it is nothing but an empty lot now. So, seeing it as I remember it brought back a barrage of memories. And for all the problems with Astroworld (heat, crowds, crime, etc…) I could only summon fond feelings for it. Those memories helped me remember what it was like to be a teenager; a skinny, shy little kid desperately trying to find some identity, trying to stay afloat amidst the hormones and mounting responsibilities of adulthood that had just appeared on the horizon, but seemed so very far away. I saw all the rides that I will miss. I remember standing in their lines with some of my best friends. I remember going to my first concert there. I remember riding the same ride repeatedly because no one else was around. I remember walking those paths with that special girl. Certain smells still remind me of those days. All that is left are memories; good ones.

These memories help me to understand something about the current crop of teenagers. Though their situations differ from what I dealt with as a teenager, I think the underlying issues have remained the same, they only manifest as something else now. Deep down I was scared, though you couldn’t have gotten me to admit it. I was looking for acceptance. I wanted to be defined, but by others, rather than by my own exploits. I wanted to stand on my own, but was afraid to do so. I wanted connections, male and female, young and old. And I wanted to have a good time without adults getting in my business. I didn’t have anyone that I could really look up to at that age. That has been the story of most of my life. As the oldest child I had to forge my own path through unexplored territory. Luckily I had my parents, my friends, and my God to guide me. Maybe I can help guide some of today’s teenagers the way I needed to be guided when I was their age. Though I am not one of them, I have been where they are now, and it’s scary.

You call that a knife... This is a knife!

2006-10-16T11:08:00.000-06:00

Have you ever felt like you were completely unprepared for the task at hand? In Sunday school this week we discussed Romans 6:12-13.

¹²Therefore do not let sin reign in your mortal body so that you obey its lusts, ¹³and do not go on presenting the members of your body to sin as instruments of unrighteousness; but present yourselves to God as those alive from the dead, and your members as instruments of righteousness to God.

I told the class that next week we would be having a competition. For this competition they would need an instrument. I had them each draw their instrument of choice on a paper without any other details. The word “instrument” conjures the image of a tool, something neutral, like a musical device or a fork. The Greek word behind this word instrument however has a completely different connotation. It is not a neutral instrument, for which there is another word entirely, but rather an instrument of war; a weapon. Every other time this word is used in the NT it is translated as weapon. I had each person show their instrument of choice. As they did so, I explained that our competition would be a battle to the death and that they were only allowed to use their instrument. Needless to say, they would be ill prepared with their understanding of the word instrument.

So… Last night as I was perusing the websites of some teenagers I came to realize that I was ill prepared to handle the task before me with my current set of instruments. I have been trying to use a bow and arrow against a tower shield; a dagger against cavalry. Maybe I was out of touch in my own generation, easily possible, or maybe things have changed drastically in the ten years since I started high school. The issues that these kids are dealing with were not even on my radar. As such, my teaching style and presentation of the gospel has been inadequate to pierce to the heart. Yes, God can do anything, and his word never returns void, but there are social nuances that must be taken into account lest those saving words fall on deaf ears. Paul says that he had become all things to all men so that by all means he might save some. As such, I do not think I am out of line in my thinking. I must adapt, but without compromising solid Biblical foundations. God is a rock, solid and concrete. He is also a living being, and will relate to his people on a personal level. It is easy for me to see in black and white, but the blind cannot see. It is difficult to explain what the world looks like to someone who cannot see, but I must try.

Maternal instinct has left the building

2006-10-10T12:15:00.000-06:00

A woman used her 4-week-old baby as a weapon in a domestic dispute, swinging the infant through the air and striking her boyfriend with the child, authorities said. ¹

Chyrotia Graham, 27, of Erie, told police she had been drinking when an argument with the child's father turned violent early Sunday morning, according to an affidavit filed to support Graham's arrest.

Graham said she "snapped" and began grabbing things and throwing them at Deangelo Troop, 20, not realizing she had picked up her 4-week-old son, Jarron Troop, telling police she held the child by his legs and swung him at his father. Police had said they believed the woman held the baby by the midsection when she hit the man.²

Some people should not be allowed to breed and contribute their genes to the gene pool thus propagating their stupidity to future generations. Even a monkey knows better. I think this may be a case for government imposed sterilization of 16 year olds who fail parental and psychological exams. Now I’m not saying this is a good idea, but maybe we should just consider it. I’m just say’n.

Weekend Wedding

2006-10-09T19:29:00.000-06:00

This was a busy weekend. Jarod, Amy, my father, and I flew to Kansas to attend my cousin Hayleigh’s wedding. The wedding was really nice, the reception was a lot of fun, and it was the first time in five years that I had seen any of them. We stopped by our old house, the house I spent my early years in. Every time I see it I think it gets smaller. Of course, everything seems so big when you’re three feet tall. We also got a chance to stroll the streets of Oktoberfest. Local crafts, food and a car show. Oh, and I almost fell down some stairs. Nearly every house in Atchison has a basement, and the house of the friends with whom we stayed was no exception. The entrance to their basement is in a closet with a false floor. This closet was also home to the ironing board. After ironing my clothes for the wedding I thought I should go put up the iron and board. As I was winding up the cord on the iron I opened the door. The closet wasn’t dark at all, plenty of room to see where to put the iron, but for some reason I became preoccupied with finding the light switch. Finally I found the switch, then looked down and realized that the false floor was open. Had I walked in while I was preoccupied with the cord I would have fallen down a flight of stairs! Given that there was no reason for me to need a light, I can only conclude that it was divine intervention that stopped me. So, I’m glad I didn’t trip on my trip to Kansas.

As for being back in my hometown, it certainly felt good. I would classify it better than as a place that “is great to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there,” but not so much that I would like to live there long term. I think I have been spoiled by the convenience of having everything at my fingertips. Though admittedly I miss the atmosphere and the family. Everyone there seems to genuinely care about one another, family and friends alike. I enjoy convenience, but I wonder if the price of its purchase was worth it. I think that is an extreme downfall to Houston. We have no central place to meet, no binding tie that connects us all. Small towns certainly have something that big cities do not, and a part of me misses that dearly. Even the small towns around Houston lack that feeling. I don't know what it is, but something is different. I am glad to have been able to attend, and wish I could have stayed a little longer. I think we all felt that way.

"There is none righteous, no, not one." Romans 3:10

2006-10-09T15:07:00.000-06:00

I had my first Hebrew test Thursday. I finished insanely quickly, easily the first person to do so, and as such, I went back and checked over my answers two or three times. I found two minor mistakes that would have cost a few points and corrected them. I walked out of the test boldly proclaiming to my classmates that I made a perfect score, all 110 points (out of 100). I said how angry I would be if I missed anything. All felt great. So… the next morning when I woke up, and I’m serious, the first thing I thought was, “You forgot to circle the historic long vowels on one question!” I couldn’t believe it. I did the same thing on our first quiz. Not only was this from the first chapter! and bar none the easiest question on the test, I had made the same stupid mistake before. After the test the professor made a statement that those who were struggling should be persistent, and those who were not struggling should be humble. Well, this is humbling. It proves that even though I knew everything on the test, I was still not perfect. I’m glad I missed that question.

“Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you.” Romans 12:3

Yom Kippur (יום כיפור)

2006-10-03T08:49:00.000-06:00

Yesterday was the Jewish holiday Yom Kippur. I noticed it on my calendar this year, and since I am taking Hebrew right now, the word Yom caught my eye. “Hey, I know that word!” It means “day.” I know... that’s no great feat of translation prowess, but it's still cool to see something you’ve seen all your life and have it finally click. So, I knew that yom meant day, but had no idea what kippur was. Wikipedia to the rescue! Kippur means atonement. This is the Day of Atonement, the day the high preist goes into the holy of holies to make atonement to God for the Jewish people, the most holy day for the Jewish people.

So, what impact should this holiday have on Christians? Should we go to the temple? Should we not wear leather shoes? I don’t know about those traditions, but perhaps there is something to be learned here. We know that Jesus was the final sacrifice, and that there remains no sacrifice for sin after Jesus. Easter is when we celebrate Jesus resurrection. However, what I think we fail to connect is the deep significance of Jewish tradition with Jesus’ death. We forget that Jesus was a Jew, he was not a Christian. His death and resurrection fulfilled Jewish prophesy, not Christian prophesy. Christianity is the new dispensation, but also the continuation of what God started with the Jews. Jesus died on Passover, an all-to-often forgotten fact. Jesus was the Passover Lamb, symbolic of the lamb sacrificed as the destroyer took the first born sons of Egypt. I think that some things are best not forgotten in antiquity. I think we should remember Passover, remember Yom Kippur. While I don’t advocate that we attend temple services, I do suggest we remember what God did for us by sending his perfect sacrifice. In Jewish tradition Yom Kippur is a solemn time of fasting and prayer, and I think we should observe it as such. We should observe it with reflection, soul searching, repentance, fasting, and prayer. I stumbled on it too late this year, but next year I think I will plan to observe the day. What do you think?

Soliloquy of the senses, and then some

2006-09-30T11:21:00.000-06:00

I like:

Eating apple sauce out of the jar
The smell just after it rains
Seeing a blue sky with sparse clouds on a quiet day
The sound of a great multitude of females singing praises to God
The feeling of intentionally tightly laced shoes
Giving completely unexpected and over-the-top gifts

I dislike:

Eating crustaceans
The smell of perfumes
Seeing bright lights in the dark
The sound of high pitched, repetitive noises
The feeling of heartburn
Giving the wrong impression

Unlikely Inspiration – Feline Fancies

2006-09-27T13:03:00.000-06:00

Anyone who knows me knows that I am a cat person. I vehemently dislike dogs. Man’s best friend? I think not. Dogs are loud, dirty, and are pathetically intent on pleasing their owners. They need constant attention and want to be involved in everything. A cat on the other hand is quiet, well-kept, self sufficient, small, and could care less if you approve of it. Their haughty conceit is a thing of magnificence. But I digress.

All three of my cats, like all good cats, are quiet when content. However, when they want out, want attention, or want food, they all get mouthy. Of particular interest is hunger. I am the first to get home in the evenings, so I get the barrage each night. Without fail each will approach in their own way so as to let me know they are hungry. One cries with what could only be described as a painful meow, another chirps and anxiously approaches the door, while the third jumps on the back door to hang in order to peer in the window. Even after I let them in, they still proceed to meow with their petitions. As if I did not know they were hungry; that’s why I let them inside in the first place! However, when I walk in the door, the first thing on my mind is not, “feed the cats.” I might put my things away, grab a bite to eat, or sit down for a few minutes. I always take care of the cats, they never go hungry. Unfortunately, they have the memory of a cat, which is to say, about fifteen minutes. So, we go through the same routine every day.

Now, obviously it is my plan to feed them, but in my own time; when I am ready and not before. All their crying and feigned affection will not change the course I have set in my mind. How similar is this situation to that of God and our petitions? Cat’s live for 10-15 years, while we live for about 80. Our minds perceive on a level so much higher than they that we could be considered as gods to them. Their ability to think beyond a small period of time is comparable to our being able to think in regard to eternity. They are focused on what they need, here and now, quickly forgetting our previous faithfulness. They have no faith in me to remember to feed them, just as we often have little faith in God to “feed” us. How many times have we brought petitions before God only to be frustrated when he does not answer in what we perceive to be a timely manner? Yes, we may be “hungry”, we may sincerely need what we request, but God answers in his own time. I would never let my cats starve. How much more should I be faithful that God will grant my requests? Sure, I may be hungry, I may yearn to my core to the point of pain, only to be put off for what God has planned right now. He will certainly accomplish what he has planned before giving me what I need, though I should not doubt that he will give it, only in his time, not mine. Jesus spoke to this directly in Matthew 6:25-34. He was talking about food, drink and clothing. He spoke to the most basic needs of man. How much more will God provide for his children their other needs if we just trust in him, that in his good time he will provide them!

Forgive me, Father, for my lack of patience and faith.

Air planes are fun

2006-09-25T17:44:00.000-06:00

Okay, so... funny story. I was signed up for training (for work) that was in North Carolina. I've never been to North Carolina. Neat place, but that's not the story. I flew over yesterday afternoon, got my rental car and hotel last night. Classy place. All the receptionists have foreign accents. All is well with the world. The hotel I'm staying at has the SelectComfort Sleep Number bed. I looked at these about a year ago and decided against getting one because they cost too much. Well, after spending a night with it, I think I may have to get one. Oh wait, that's not the funny part. So I watched Forrest Gump, and then went to sleep at midnight. That's 11:00 central time, but still pretty late for me. I wasn't sure what time training started so I got up early the next morning to make sure I wouldn't be late. First, I drove right past the BIG sign that said "ISA". Then when I pull into the parking lot... I'm the only one there! I walk around the lobby for a few minutes waiting for someone to show up. Finally two people walk in.

"Excuse me, do you have the time?"

"Oh, it's a quarter to 7:00."

Thinking to my self, "Oh, that's interesting. Not only did I move forward an hour by going to the east coast, but apparently my alarm clock was an hour fast too..." Good times, but still not the funny part!

"I'm here for training today. I wasn't sure what time it started, and I figured it was better to be insanely early than embarrassingly late."

"What training are you here for?"

"Automation Project Planning and Justification."

"Oh... really... hmm... are you sure?"

"Yeah, I've had this trip planned for months."

"See, the thing about that... Your class has been cancelled."

Blank stare from me.

"You didn't get the email?"

"Uh... no..."

Still not the funny part! So he goes upstairs to his desk and returns with the class roster.

"Here's the reason you didn't get the email. You weren't even on the roster. It appears that you were never actually signed up for this class."

After apologies, and an inappropriate suggestion for retribution against my office secretary, I left. I got to my car and laughed maniacally. Whether you agree or not, this was the funny part. I just spent over $500 on car/hotel/flight, three hours at the airports, three hours on a plane, and now I'd have to repeat it in as many hours. Hilarious! I'm still not sure what happened, but I'll get to the bottom of it at work tomorrow. I did seize the opportunity to do a lot of my homework and studying though. I needed the break to catch up on my Hebrew before class Thursday. That’s what I keep telling myself.

So... bad things about NC: The appalling lack of street signs, direction signs, speed limit signs... well, pretty much all signs. Good game NC. The good things: catching up on homework, quiet area, no traffic, nice trees. Overall, I think the pros outweigh the cons. I could go back... just not anytime soon.

U.N. Update and Foreign Hostility

2006-09-20T19:31:00.000-06:00

Last night Iranian President Ahmadinejad, or President Tom as Beck likes to call him for simplicity, made his address to the United Nations General Assembly. Big Media only covered a few highlights of his speech, spouting the same rhetoric of their typical seditious foreign endorsement. They report President Tom's repeated assurances that Iran's nuclear ambitions are peaceful and merely for energy. With headlines like, "Bush and Ahmadinejad trade accusations at UN", and "Iran's Ahmadinejad: 'Can't we just be friends?'", one might be fooled to think President Tom's remarks were a peaceful plea against US imperialism. Of course, this is what Big Media has been pushing since Bush 'stole' the election - both in 2000, and in 2004 - any foreign agenda that undermines the administration, without care to how it undermines the country. No Big Media source has covered Tom's insistence that the 'occupiers' must leave 'their' land; read that as Israel and Palestinians, respectively. No Big Media source has covered the last words that President Tom spoke during a prayer to Allah wherein he calls for the return of the 12 th Mahdi. Basically he was praying for the end of the world wherein the final Imam will return and rule a world that has been converted to Islam, whether through peaceful enlightenment, or more likely, through the sword, as heralded by radicals who seek to bring about the last things through terror attacks. Previous statements show that he thinks this will take place in the next two years. Now let's put two and two together here. If he thinks the end of the world is coming within two years, then all he has to do is hold out against the international community for two years, where after he can usher in a new age of global Islamic rule with the destruction of the State of Israel. How many people realize the threat that this man, and radical Islam, pose to the Western world? He and other radicals are correct in stating that we are in a war against Islam, only they are the ones waging it by trying to spread Islam through the sword; as was their custom in the 8th century when the religion was founded.

On a related note, Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez spoke today at the U.N. calling the president, "El Diablo," or the devil for the not-so-Spanish-savvy, amongst other inflammatory comments. This might be a good time to add that President Tom and Chavez recently had a powwow down south where more anti-American rhetoric was proclaimed. Here are two men who pose a direct threat to America and they are allowed on American soil to spout this hate-filled speech against one of the only nations on the planet willing to fight for freedom. And what is worse? Over 90%+ of Americans have no idea, or care for that matter, what happens beyond their own cozy little lives. That is one of the reasons the rest of the world hates Americans so much, because we don't know or care anything about the rest of the world, their culture, or customs; and shame on us, they're right!

But then again, maybe I'm blowing this all out of proportion. Or then again, what if I'm not?

Break out the Viagra®

2006-09-18T11:22:00.000-06:00

Warning! This is a political post of global consequence. If you are not interested in politics then I urge you to consider your heart and think about why politics exist, and to what extent a Christian should be involved.

I was listening to Glenn Beck this morning and he had an interesting discussion on his program. George Clooney, and a lot of other people with whom I typically disagree passionately, have been pushing the U.N. and the rest of the world to stop the genocide in the Daruf region of Western Sudan. Clooney and others urged the U.N. Security Council to accept what the rest of the world has already declared as ‘ethnic cleansing’ or genocide.

"After September 30 you won't need the U.N. You will simply need men with shovels and bleached white linen and headstones," the actor warned.

The mandate of African Union peacekeepers in the region expires at the end of the month and the Sudanese government has refused to approve their replacement by a U.N. force.¹

Over 800,000 people were killed in Rwanda in 1994 while the U.N. stood idly by. I hate to say this, but I think the analogy is apt. Africa is the neglected step child of the world, forgotten amidst more profitable and familiar ventures. People are dieing, and it’s about to get worse. God forgive me for agreeing with Clooney, but I thought that people had inherent value, and that in our “age of enlightenment,” we had shed the prejudices against the color of another person’s skin. But Darfur, and Africa as a whole, is largely discounted by the rest of the world. They will pay the butchers bill, but the rest of the world will be liable for their blood.

The U.N. replaced the League of Nations in 1945. It was founded after the conclusion of WWII with the primary goal of preventing future conflicts. Beck’s question: If the U.N. is incapable of stopping the genocide in Darfur - and let’s face it… it’s Africa, people with rocks and sticks comparably, not China or some other industrialized military giant - then what hope can we possibly have that the U.N. Security Council will take any action against Iran’s budding nuclear program? The thought of nuclear capability in a state that has publicly declared its desire to see Israel wiped off the map is unconscionable.

I think we need to send truck loads of Viagra^® to the U.N., because they are impotent old men incapable cutting through 50 years of bureaucratic red tape. They have no power to perform when needed. The institution has failed. It has never worked. That is why 800,000 people died in Rwanda. The U.N. sat idly by while people were slaughtered there; it is why the US had to unilaterally attack Iraq while it openly defied the international community’s demand for inspections (how many ignored U.N. Resolutions?); and why Iran’s President Ahmadinejad is allowed on US soil this week without being arrested while he defies the U.N.. God help us all if Iran attains the nuclear capability it seeks. God help the people facing extermination in Africa.

Time to break out the duct tape, because my head is about to explode!

Alma Mater

2006-09-12T15:44:00.000-06:00

I had the pleasure today of attending a training seminar for work. Normally I despise these training sessions, but this one came with a special treat. It was held in College Station across the street from Texas A&M, my alma mater. There are two things that struck me today as I drove those familiar streets. The first is college girls... I mean wow! It was like waking up from a long, boring dream. In the two and a half years since I graduated I guess I had forgotten how gorgeous they are. There is something that must happen to them when they graduate, or maybe they disappear to some secret location after graduation, or maybe... I'm just hanging around in the wrong places... I think there must be a secret place out there, and I implore you who know its location (you know who you are) to tell me where it is! I don't know… but what I do know is that institutions of higher learning have an inordinate number of beautiful girls as compared with the rest of society. Certainly that had been forgotten. Second, and more interesting, is the sense of emptiness that I felt as I was leaving town. I don't know what it was, but a part of me felt cold, like I wasn't suppose to leave. Today is one of the few times I can recall ever knowing where "home" was and feeling sad that I was leaving it. I did not realize I had such revere for my old school or that I had missed it so.

Unlikely Inspiration - Paintball Parables

2006-09-11T11:00:00.000-06:00

Considering the number of people who have lived from the outset of creation, I think it is a safe statement to say that God has spoken to only a select few, in the strictest sense of the word, that is. As far as biblical accounts, there are only a handful of people mentioned who have been awarded this honor, when compared to their contemporaries. For the rest of us, especially in this current, and likely last, dispensation, our revelation comes not from billows of smoke or columns of fire, but by the indwelling Holy Spirit. As such, the world is full of teachable moments through which the Spirit can teach us something divine from the otherwise natural realm. This thought will be the basis for a series of posts that I will title, “Unlikely inspiration.”

One of these moments that I would like to share is a parallel to playing paintball. Yes, God can find a spiritual use even for paintball, such a seemingly violent sport. Paintball could be classified as a battle game, one that simulates human-to-human combat using close-ranged firearms. For this parallel, let the opposing team be equated to the dark forces that seek to destroy my team, the Christians. Please do not read too much into the premise. Every time I go out onto the field I have some idea of what I want to do, some plan by which to decimate the enemy. Each person is assigned a role, a specific task that on its own is not of much consequence, but when a part of a larger plan, means certain victory. Now, if every plan was executed flawlessly as envisioned, then no casualties would be taken and victory secured each time. The problem is that the plan is rarely executed exactly as envisioned. Invariably, someone does not apply pressure where it is needed, or applies too much, and the enemy seizes the opportunity of weakness for its own exploitation. Oh, how many times have I been on the receiving end of that one! Or even worse, that the plan was executed to a tee, but the plan itself was flawed. Imagine being the team commander and your team loses because you did not lead correctly. All too often I have been eliminated because of a rookie mistake; some simple thing like not ensuring adequate cover, or not noticing an opponent. I walk off the field fuming. I am angry, not at the person for eliminating me, but for allowing myself to be in that situation. I don’t mind being eliminated when it is a good move by the opposing team, but because of something I did? That’s just too much. The shame, the self loathing that follows… Of course, if I left it there then I would be deserving the next time when the same mistake is made. But, what if I learn from my mistake? What if I can see what the enemy is doing, the entry point at which my defense was broken, my pivotal mistake that was my undoing in the first place? If I learn my weakness from my mistake, then my mistake, while is in itself deplorable, it is not without purpose. I can rest assured that God causes all things to work together for the good of those whom he loves and who have been called according to his purpose. As Christians we face a battle of a different sort, and much more violent. Our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against spiritual powers. We must be knowledgeable of the enemy and of our own weaknesses, lest in our pride we seek to run before we can even walk.

Can a failure be considered a success if it serves to highlight the point of failure so as to avoid it in the future? Should I go so far to say that such a mistake is good? It seems that is what Paul was saying. Though it was intended for evil, and was indeed evil itself, it can be turned to good, that is, for sanctification. Do I stretch too far or is my parallel just?

Jeopardy!

2006-09-07T14:23:00.000-06:00

This has been a long week... With work all day, everyday, a trip to Corpus Christi and back Wednesday, school on Tuesday and Thursday and all its required study, youth class on Wednesday, and all the preparation for our class party last weekend, I have not had time to post anything about Jeopardy from last weekend.

Bible Jeopardy was a success! I’m not sure which was harder, coming up with the categories and questions or designing the interface. I think the categories part was harder, strictly speaking, even though the interface took more time. However, now that the interface is complete, future Jeopardy games will be much easier. For the techno-geek out there, it is a series of PowerPoint presentations that are XML data driven. All I do is hit a button on the master slide and all my questions are pulled in from the XML sheet behind. For the not-so-tech-savvy, you can just ignore the last two sentences. We had food, just quick hamburgers and hotdogs, then hit Jeopardy. Since I figured it would be entirely unfair if I let them pick their own teams, and not trusting in my own objectivity, I let God do the team assignments. They drew numbers from a hat. Erin and Kenny made up team one, while Shane and Amy took up position at team two. We had an odd number of people so team three had three people, Jarod, Megan, and Stephen. The game kicked off with team one taking a commanding lead. By the end of the first round, team one was the only team with positive points, team two in second, and the team with the most players dead last. Team three however took back the lead in Double Jeopardy due to the quick buzzing by Jarod and good team work. Sadly, by the time Final Jeopardy came around, team two was still negative, and team one was too far behind to catch up. A run-away game is never the ideal Final Jeopardy. Both remaining teams, however, correctly answered the final question, but alas, team three had played it safe and only wagered a small amount, so as not to jeopardize their victory. Kudos to all the players, and Chris for running the buzzer station. Feedback was positive and most seemed eager to continue the newfound Jeopardy tradition. I find that the competitive element makes studying the material much easier for the class. I learned a good deal more as well, solidifying many areas of previous concern. I hope I was able to convey a portion of that to the class. And now, back to Romans for a while, for we have neglected it for too long!

Return to Academia

2006-09-01T21:07:00.000-06:00

I have completed my first week back in academia. For the record, I am pursuing a Masters of Divinity at the Havard School for Theological Studies, the Houston branch of Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. My first week of seminary classes was very encouraging. I am only taking two classes (six hours), Evangelism and Hebrew. I am told though, that Hebrew should be considered as two classes, for its difficulty. My Evangelism professor is a first-time professor in this course. That is good in that the class will likely be a little easier, a big plus being my first semester. Regardless, I know I will learn a lot from him. His passion for the gospel is genuine and unmistakable. My own studies have thus far focused primarily on the intellectual side of the gospel, and I have no doubt that God placed me in this class my first semester for a reason. It is the balance I lack. Hebrew... well, what can I say. Learning a new language is difficult, no doubt; though I've always had an affinity for languages. Though I like language, I have never enjoyed learning them formally. However, my first class in Hebrew excited me even more than did Evangelism. I am thrilled that one day I will be able to read the very words that God spoke to the patriarchs and the prophets, to hear his words in their original language and context. If I was excited before starting seminary, I am exuberant now.

Beware the Sniper

2006-08-27T12:30:00.000-06:00

I wasn't even sure I would get to play this time. I sent my stock off to be repaired because it was leaking air. Luckily, the guys at SpecOps rock, and it arrived Friday aftenoon, the day before we played. Now... if only we have more people show up! We had a better turnout this time than we did last time (three if you recall), but still far less than I had anticipated: Randy, Stephen, Justin, Chris, Tommy, Jarod, and myself; seven in total.

There are several rolls that a paintball sniper can assume. Two of my favorites are the Ambush Sniper and the Ghost Flanker. As always, the sniper position is best used as part of a team tactic. If left on his own, a sniper lacks the firepower to hold his own against a well-organized opposition.

Get your Ghost Flank on

One of our first games was four (us) on three (them). I had Chris, Stephen and Tommy. The plan was to have those three stay left-center while I circled around to flank. Good plans can easily fall apart once the whistle blows, and this was no exception. As I made my way along the right edge of the field along the creek I heard several exchanges of fire. Since I was out of contact with my team, I wasn’t sure who had been eliminated, my teammates or theirs. An eerie silence fell on the field. Then I knew… it had been my teammates who fell. By this time I had made my way to a good vantage point from which to see a considerable amount of the field. Judging by the lack of movement on their team though, they had no idea where I was, and not wanting to walk into an ambush, were reluctant to move forward. Suddenly I glimmer of hope filled me. From the far left I heard a whistle. I could tell by the pitch that it was Stephen. He was still hiding behind a bunker. The odds were stacked against us, three of them, two of us. From his whistles I imagined what he must be thinking. “Mike… help… there’s three of them, and they know I’m up here.” “Mike, where are you.” “I could use some help here.” They were feeling confident, having taken out two of our four. Confidence should be guarded when a sniper is on the loose. They started firing at him, and I knew I had to move fast. I would only get one shot at this. I got on my belly and crawled under the branch of a short tree. I saw my first mark. Randy was launching a volley at Stephen who was pinned down from three angles behind a bunker on the hill. I slowly raise my gun, put Randy in my sight and fire a few shots his way. Two hit true. Now it is two on two. I fall back, having given my position away, and swing around a fallen tree and hug the bank of the creek. I hear more fire now. The other team is desperate to eliminate the man on the hill so they can focus on me with force. “Mike’s on the hill!,” I hear Justin shout. …Excellent, they think that’s me up there they’ve got pinned down. I move quickly up the steep bank edge, slipping and falling back twice. Time is short, and Stephen is taking heavy fire from two people, and I want to capitalize on their confusion. I see my next mark. Justin is behind a tree across the field firing at Stephen about 40 yards away from me. The tree blocks Stephen’s return fire, but Justin’s side is completely open to me. I raise my gun, find him in my sight, adjust for the distance, hold my breath, and squeeze off a single round. THWAP! A single, deadly shot finds its home on Justin’s chest, and my spirits soar! One shot, one kill… that’s the motto. He is amazed, not seeing me, or even hearing the shot, but nonetheless, knew he had been eliminated. Two down, one to go. Jarod, realizing what is happening, quickly runs for cover. He makes a daring move between us and crosses behind us. However, now Stephen and I have the upper hand, and he is pinned down. After running around a bit, playing the rabbit, we finally eliminate him. Walking out I congratulate Stephen and Jarod on a game well-played. Stephen’s distraction proved invaluable to my ghost flank, giving me the anonymity and time needed to get into position. My only regret is that we lost two men. Hopefully they learned from whatever mistake caused their elimination. Ghost Flank, w00t!

Unfortunately Tommy had to leave after another game. The teams, however, were now even.

The Ambush

An Ambush Sniper uses stationary concealment as his primary tool. Once the whistle blew I dashed as far up field as I could. I found a nice fallen branch with considerable surrounding brush and fell to the ground to wait. My team, Chris and Justin, though lacking Action Ghillie, took up positions on my flank and hid. Minutes ticked by. The other team is playing cautious. Knowing a sniper is on the other team and the lack of movement on our part smells of a trap. I see movement. Randy is slowing creeping up the field, ever so carefully, so as not to walk into the ambush he must know is waiting for him. He is really close, no more than fifteen yards, but there is too much brush to make a clean shot. I know he can’t see me, because I’m in my ghillie, so I just wait. Suddenly I hear a small burst of fire. “Out!” I recognize my teammate Justin’s voice. He never even got a chance to return fire. I found out later that his leg had fallen asleep and when he moved it to get the blood flowing again, Stephen (on the other team) saw him and quickly eliminated him, leaving us in a sticky three vs. two mess. In order to exit the field Justin would have to walk right past Randy, and I knew this was my chance. Just as I had anticipated, he stopped a moment to talk to Randy. While they were talking and I knew Randy’s attention was diverted, I sat up and took aim through the brush. Justin exits. Randy resumes his advance. He takes two steps and I launch three shots at him. He looks in my direction moments too late as two paintballs strike him in the chest, another in the arm. Now the teams are even again. I drop back down and wait, knowing that my position, while no longer secret, is not exactly known either. Stephen and Jarod (opposing team) are even more cautious, because they know I’m there, just not where. Stephen makes a bold move to a bunker to my right, but is unable to drop behind it completely. I take aim and start firing, not wanting to give him a chance to find better cover. I hit him in the hip as he futilely pushes against the bunker trying to avoid my barrage. Now only Jarod remains. Chris and I quickly dispatch him and secure victory for our team.

Overall, it was a good day for paintball, for me especially. I left the field with seven kills and no eliminations. I wished more people had been there so I could have really wreaked havoc, but it turned out okay. gg.

Weekend - Part I

2006-08-23T11:00:00.000-06:00

Every journey begins with the first step

Our first step was at 6 AM, and for a Saturday, that is far too early to consider walking, much less driving! Our destination: Lake LBJ, a little west of Austin. The party kicks off between 10 and 11, so I informed my passengers, Jarod, Amy and Stephen, the night before that we would be leaving promptly at 6 AM, and that anyone not belted in was getting left. We pulled out two minutes late, but before the sun has even risen… who cares right? My prayer, aside from a safe trip and a enjoyable time, is that God would show us his majesty today, that we would appreciate him for who he is. The drive up was wholly uneventful, aside from making one wrong turn. Signs for Hwy 2322 and 2233 look an awful lot alike at 75 MPH. Aside from that 30 second detour we drove right to our destination. Pulling up we saw a newly renovated lake house with a beautiful wakeboarding boat parked out front, though surprisingly, few other vehicles. It turns out that even though we were a little late (10:45) that we were the first to arrive. I was then reminded that it was a Sunday school class party full of Baptists, not known for being punctual, so I didn’t feel so bad.

The First Outing

A few more guests arrived, quick introductions were had and we out on water. Aside from Kevin, Rachel and myself, no one had ever wakeboarded before. Kevin went first to show everyone how it was done, and because being the only driver, would not get to go much more during the day. Next Rachel. Both, seasoned pro’s, had no trouble inspiring awe in the passengers eagerly awaiting their turn. Surely it was as easy as these two make it appear!

“Okay, who’s next? …Anyone?”, Kevin asks.

Silence. No one wants to be the first one to look stupid.

“I guess I’ll go,” Stephen boldly declares.

After a short how-to session Stephen is in the water. Last minute tips are yelled out from Kevin. Stephen motions and Kevin puts the boat into gear. Stephen, unprepared for force, looses the handle and the boat speeds away. They get set up again, this time resolved to not let go, he yells out, “Ready!” This time he holds on, but unfortunately is pulled over the top of the board and lands face-first in the water. “Keep your chin down against your chest.” “Try to squat on the board.” “Try angling the board as you come up.” A lot of people don’t even get up on their first tries, but Stephen is freakishly good at everything he tries. Being a quick study, he’s got the hang of it and successfully gets on top of the water for several of his next run. Of course, getting up is the easy part of wakeboarding. Once you’re up, it’s like trying to balance the board on greased marbles while being dragged behind a truck. Great fun. Once he had gotten the hang of it Stephen was starting to like it.

Next Jarod attempts to outdo, or at least match, Stephen’s newfound prowess; heeding all the advice hastily thrown at Stephen, and now having watched several people do it. On about the fourth try he makes it up, though not for long. Like I said, it’s slippery on top of the water. Here he is wiping out on one of his first runs.

Undeterred, he tries several more times, each staying up a little longer. The best part of staying up longer, at least for those watching in the boat, is that the added speed makes for much better wipeouts. Saying up longer each time built his confidence, and we got a better show each time. After a few too many face-plants into the water he’s had enough, though from the smile afterward, you’d never know it.

I went next. Having not done this in a year and a half, I was a little reluctant. The first time I let go of the handle, just like Stephen. The second time was much better and I got up like I had done it yesterday. It wasn’t quite as slippery as I remembered. I wiped out a couple of times, providing much entertainment, I’m sure. The last time, having seemingly mastered getting up and balancing, I wanted to try to go outside the wake. “No guts, no glory,” I think to myself. I approached the wake and went for it. Unfortunately, I didn’t angle the board right. The nose took a dive under the wake and took me with it, face first into the water. I’m glad I was wearing the helmet, and glad that the camera went dead just before my turn.

And here is a picture of Amy, just because it is a good picture

It was lunch time so we headed back. Hamburgers and Hotdogs for lunch hit the spot. After a very filling lunch, with cookies and brownies galore, the next group headed out, leaving us to fill the time until their return. We ventured out to the dock.

Part II tomorrow...

Weekend - Part II

2006-08-20T22:59:00.000-06:00

A Moment to Breathe

During the down time I take a few moments to just enjoy the setting. I sit in an office all day, and just being outdoors is a pleasant change. Everything is so much slower here. Life is still life, instead of one moment strung together with another equally frantic moment. Here I am not a slave to the god on my wrist. The feel of the cool breeze on my face, soft sounds of the water splashing against the dock, the expansive sky streching seemingly forever, filled with soft, white clouds. I don't see clouds in Houston; we move too fast to see them. This is the mark of the creator. A day created to reflect on him, on all he has created, and enjoy it and thank him for it.

Boredom Sets In

Reflection is good for a time, but it doesn’t take long for them to start playing in the water. Jarod and Stephen start by floating in a life raft tied to the dock. Soon that is replaced by taking turns overturning each other in some water battle. Seeing all this, and being bored myself, I jump in and join the fray. That left Amy sitting on the dock alone. Plans soon hatched to get her in. Stephen distracts while Jarod approaches from the back. Had the water been a little deeper they would have thrown her in, but eventually she gets in of her own accord. Battle resumes. Soon even throwing the raft about is not enough, and the weed clinging to lake bottom becomes a projectile weapon. After getting covered in weed, Amy opts out and returns to the dock. We three remain, and lake weed abounds. Finally we grow bored with that and return to the dock for the last trip out.

Encore

Stephen and Jarod each go again. Stephen has trouble getting up, already sore from the first outing. Wakeboarding works muscles you forget you have. Jarod struggles a little, but manages to get up again. Finally Amy’s turn has come. She’s had all day to watch everyone, and kneeboards regularly with her family. She gets up on her first try. “Girls seem to get up faster than guys,” Kevin says. Girls tend to listen when you tell them how to do it, and guys want to pretend their previous athleticism will help them, which it won’t. She’s a natural and continues to get up with regularity, wipe out just as often, and enjoying every minute of it.

The Drive Home

I don’t know what I was thinking… A four hour drive up, a day of strenuous activity, then a four hour trip home. Not a good plan, but we did it anyway. Though... I don’t plan on ever doing that again. Jarod offers to drive early on, but I’m okay so far. It was after stopping for dinner that things started to get a little rough. About two hours from home I was starting to get moments of dizziness, though not so much as it could impair my driving. About an hour out, my eyelids were drooping and I wanted nothing more than to be in my bed. I considered letting one of the others drive. Around this time Jarod, in a half-sleep stupor sits up and exclaims, “Oh my God Michael, look out!” It seems he thought he saw a car backing up from a side street and looking like it was not going to stop. There was no car, and not even a side street. At this point I realize that I’m on my own.

Things to do while trying to stay awake:
Listen to music
Sing to music (softly, so as not to disturb my sleeping passengers)
Wake up to music (kidding)
Pray
Drive faster (the adrenaline kick helped, though only for a short time)
Force myself by a sheer act of will to remain awake

Once we got to a part of town I recognized I was excited enough about getting to sleep in my own bed that I was wide awake. The last 30 minutes were a breeze. We pulled up to the house a 12:45 AM. I thanked God he had seen us safely home, told them to get everything they needed out of the car, and went to my room. I was asleep before I hit the bed.

Reflections

What a great day. I’m thankful for friends like Kevin and Rachel, my brother, friends like Stephen and Amy, and safe trips. It was a long day, but well worth it. All my prayers were answered.

mmm... banana.... drools

2006-08-17T11:53:00.000-06:00

People have always told me that I think too much. They are probably right. I analyze everything. Take a conversation for example. For days after a conversation I might analyze every word, every intimation, tones, body language. I think the end result is that I create a firm image in my mind of events, sometimes widely divergent from the actual. But, as the post-modernist would say, truth is what I believe, right? Regardless of the absolute that exists around me, my perception of it is all that matters. </sarcasm> I like to think that I see clearly (but who doesn’t right?) and am able to distinguish fact from fantasy, the real from the imagined. But I wonder… if I spend so much time thinking about things, and in the process of doing so I make a mistake in my logic, then I can create an entire world that is not real whilst fully believing in its existence. I think that we all do this to some extent, that is, deceive ourselves, whether intentionally or by faulty perception. The question though is to what extent and at what cost? Is any kind deception ever healthy? Alternate realities? Little white lies? Some would say that they are necessary in society, others that truth should always be pursued. I don’t know where I stand. It’s easier to live in denial, or be socially courteous by lying to someone, but does this serve to edify, or rather isolate people so that they can avoid reality and never know what is real? Do these lies become so commonplace that they permeate our being, defining who we are, serving to invalidate our very integrity? I think I would rather err on the side of truth.

However, since I think too much, and this post has been largely philosophical in nature, I thought I would share something that I ran across yesterday. This made me laugh.

Though you know where you want to go and what you want to be you haven't quite reached your goal. You are unsure of yourself and embarrassed by your shortcomings. But don't worry, there are plenty more like you that have yet to ripen. Be patient. Someday you too will make it to that supermarket shelf!

Given that I hate green bananas, I wonder if this says something about me? Maybe I’m a brown banana desperately trying to escape from a green banana. Or maybe I’m just insane, trying to find reason and meaning from a banana! Vive la brown banana!

Prophetic Untimeliness

2006-08-14T07:45:00.000-06:00

On the advice of someone I trust I just finished reading a book by Os Guinness called Prophetic Untimeliness: A Challenge to the Idol of Relevance. Guinness takes a serious look at the modern church in his well articulated critique.

“Never have Christians tried to be so relevant. But never have Christians ended up so irrelevant. How can this be? The problem, says Os Guinness, is that our views of relevance and our efforts to redefine ourselves are captive to the seductions and pressures of our modern clock culture. Ironically, we end up as neither relevant nor faithful. And in the process we are in danger of losing not only our identity but our authority, our significance, and even our very soul.”

I feel this book is only the continuation of what God has been teaching me over the past several years, namely that the gospel is timeless. It reaches across the ages and across cultures, because it addresses not the problems of the day, but the deepest and most daunting problem that all men face, namely their union with Adam. This book is ultimately a wakeup call to the modern church, though like most prophetic words I fear it will go unheard as its title intimates. R.C. Sproul says that the evangelical church is mired in a modern-day Babylonian captivity of Pelagianism. Guinness says we are in a Babylonian captivity of modernism. I think King Solomon spoke wisely (go figure) when he wrote in Ecclesiastes that there is nothing new under the sun. I think Sproul and Guinness both speak of the same thing, and while one speaks to antiquity and the other to the obsession with the future, both resonate with the same theme: the exaltation of Man.

The modern church culture seeks to be relevant by courting the ideas and patterns of the world around it. How can this be? We are told to live in the world, but not be of the world, to not be conformed to the patterns of this world, but to be transformed in our thinking, yet the modern church subculture bears a remarkable resemblance to the world which it purports to oppose. We have abandoned the gospel by trying to making it relevant to the day instead of acknowledging that, “it is the power of God to salvation;” that it never needed help, we did. The battle cries of the reformation, Sola Scriptura, Sola Gratia, Solus Christus, Sola Fide, and Soli Deo Gloria, have been abandoned because they are old, and new is always better. They have been abandoned for the new battle cry of the enslaved church: Sola Cultura! The modern, the progressive, the ever changing world about us has become the driving factor in the church, instead of the sound and inspired truth revealed from God.

This is why I feel I have been led to focus so much on reformed teaching and sound Biblical exegesis. I believe that the gospel is as relevant today as it was 2000 years ago and it does not need to be updated to accommodate the ideas of modern pop culture. This is why Christians have become so irrelevant in the world. Instead of knowing God and being firmly planted in the Word, the modern Christian’s entire faith is based on subjective spirituality, sloganeering, and bumper sticker theology. We have lost sight of who God is and who man is in relation to Him. If there is to be a revival in this nation, a new reformation, if we are to escape the fate of Europe’s secular implosion, then we must return to God. We must embrace the gospel as written, not as we imagine it to be, or would like it to be. We must stop focusing on trying to be relevant and become relevant by honestly seeking after God. Only by being obedient to the truth can we ever hope to be relevant again.

On Judgment

2006-08-07T15:25:00.000-06:00

Recently there has been a recurring theme around me that I cannot seem to escape, namely that of judgment. Conversations, sermons, posts, conviction… you name it and it’s been there. The same verses keep popping in my head to follow it too, from Matthew 7 “1Do not judge so that you will not be judged. 2For in the way you judge, you will be judged; and by your standard of measure, it will be measured to you.” The more I ponder these verses though, I find myself in a quandary. I do not think the purpose of these verses is overly clear, certainly as clear as one might think or is beguiled into believing based on their seemingly clear language. Jesus also said that he did not come to abolish the law, but rather to fulfill it. That being the case, his statement is not a blanket condemnation of human judgment. To condemn judgment would be to invalidate the entire Law of Moses, clearly not the intent. Reading his words I find myself not thinking, “Judge not lest you be judged,” but rather, “How can we not judge?!” It is a basic human trait to see something and make a classification of that object. If I see a steaming plate of spaghetti, rest assured, I have already judged that plate to be one of the most beautiful things on the planet, just as I am repulsed when I see two gay men holding hands demanding recognition by the state. If Jesus' words are to mean that we are to abandon our mental faculties of good reason and critical thinking, then the necessary result is the abolition of accountability and the renunciation of God’s punishment through established authority, be it a parent, pastor or the state. I fear the mantra of “Judge not lest you be judged,” has been hijacked by secularists to justify immorality, and repeated so often that Christians have come to believe it as it is in its perverted state. Christians are no longer pillars by which one can measure a standard because they fear to stand up for what is right lest they be labeled intolerant, the battle cry of the liberal establishment. The pillar of Christian authority has been toppled and replaced with reluctant acceptance of the sin around us, both in and out of the church, to our shame!

So, if Jesus was not issuing a blanket statement of “judge not,” which I feel it is clear he is not, then what did he mean? Jesus states shortly after, “Or how can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' and behold, the log is in your own eye?” Jesus is NOT saying, as we have been fooled into believing, that we are not to acknowledge the sin in the lives of our brothers, ignoring it because it is not our place to speak. Look at what he says. “Or how can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye.'” He makes no argument to such ends. Instead it is clearly seen that there is a speck is in the eye of your brother. There is no question about its existence, it is plain for all to see. This is not the judgment we are warned against. Jesus is warning against hypocritical judgment that comes from self-righteous indignation, condemnation from a false sense of superiority. This is where I think we have the most trouble. Seeing sin in our brothers and condemning them because WE are not in that sin, and it makes us feel better perhaps, the proverbial yard measuring against the foot, and in this case coming up long.

Jesus speaks as to how we are to confront our brother, and we ARE to confront them. We must not be overwhelmed by that same sin. We are to be free from that sin, not of our own will, which is wholly corrupt, but by the grace that comes from God. We are to approach him in love, and with care (Matthew 18). James instructs us to hold each other accountable in prayer (5:16). Clearly these things do not exist in isolation from judgment, from clear thinking, from critical reasoning. I believe the heart of the message is judgment is not only fine, but expected (1 Corinthians 5:12), but not as a means to exalt yourself, to condemn others because it is easier than dealing with the sin in your own life. Paul’s constant message was faith through grace, and this from God! “Where then is boasting?”, he asks. "It is excluded!" Instead we boast in Christ, in his saving work. So yes, we are to judge, but to edify, not to tear down. Sometimes what appears to be such a clear message (Matthew 7:1) is not so clear after all!

Rejoice for the Sovereignty of God!

2006-08-05T21:55:00.000-06:00

Tonight I had the opportunity to get together with an old friend of mine who I had not seen in over a year. I enjoy his company, we are very similar people, yet could not be more fundamentally different. He professes to be atheist, though I think he leans more toward the agnostic side. According to him, the purpose of existence is fate. His objections to the existence of God, primarily to the Christian God, are largely experiential, though not ignoring the seeming logical improbability of a benevolent deity. He cannot accept how there can be a good God that allows the evil in the world. How can this loving God allow children around the world to die of hunger, AIDS, wars, etc…? He cannot accept that death is the consequence of sin, that the children suffer because of their parents actions (Adam and Eve). When I look at the evil and suffering in the world, it clearly points to the depths to which man can sink, revealing not the lack of care on God’s part for his creation, but rather that of the true heart of man: sin. It is not that we do sins, it is that we ARE sin. It is not that we do bad things; we are fundamentally bad, evil creatures. God did not create us this way, he created man perfect. That is not to say that man being perfect is therefore incapable of sinning, man was created perfect as a moral being. It was his choice to sin, and to do so with clear warning of what would come, regardless of whether he understood the full consequence of death. To see sin, and man as he truly is, God appears all the more gracious, all the more benevolent. Yes, people are dieing, yes children are suffering. That may sound callous, and maybe it is, but it is the truth. Hiding from that truth behind self-righteous indignation at God, blaming him for man’s sin, declaring him culpable for man’s sin on the basis of foreknowledge (omniscience), does nothing for man’s case, but rather strengthens my faith in God’s love. For God so loved the world (in spite of their sin) that he gave his only begotten son, that whosoever believes in him would have everlasting life. (emphasis added by me) God in his benevolence, in his grace, passed over sins previously committed and placed them on Christ, the propitiation for that sin. God saw what would happen before he flung the stars into their heavenly resting places, and instead of abandoning man to his self-wrought prison of death and despair made provisions, provided a means by which to save some, namely those in Christ. Praise God!

I pray for my friend. I think he is seeking, and has been for a long time, but his mind is still hostile to God. I know from experience that in this condition that anything I say will be met with criticism and mockery. You cannot argue anyone into salvation by clever theology and logical trickery. It is by grace you have been saved through faith, and this not of yourselves lest anyone boast. I pray for God’s grace to open his eyes, that being born again he might see the kingdom of God, to which his mind is hostile, being in enmity to God. It is liberating though, that my words, imperfect as they are, are not the pivotal factor in converting anyone, but rather it is him who wills. I trust and hope in that.

Wait a sec... Who won this?

2006-08-02T06:59:00.000-06:00

It has been a while since my last post, I know. For the faithful few who are strangely interested in these things, I am sorry. I mentioned several posts before that I had several projects in the working. Another has finally come to completion satisfactorily.

First, a little history. Last February it was my father’s birthday. When looking for a gift for my father I try to think of something that he will enjoy, but more than that, something that he will actually use. Now, we spend plenty of time in our theatre watching movies, but short of aesthetic appeal, the theatre is complete. Next, the television takes most of his time. It is the one place you can come in the evening after a long day at work and sit down, relax, without any responsibility or thought. But that begs the question, what can I do to improve the television experience? Cable is out of the question, one for the recurring bill, and two for the lack of quality programming. Broadcast TV offers the best line-up, bar none. A new TV won’t do, since analog is going away in 2009, and digital is still far too expensive. So… what about time shifting TV? I researched TIVO, and within a week had purchased a 40-hour unit with a lifetime subscription.

Let me say, TIVO is great. Commercials are a thing of the past. Nothing irks me more than the incessant drone of people hawking their wares, things I wouldn’t buy in a million years. Plus, the ability to catch all the programming you miss at work, or late at night, or because of other obligations is great. No more VHS tapes and their sloppy interface. Life is good… or at least it was until the TIVO started having problems! About two weeks into TIVO paradise an obnoxious line appeared on every channel! I tried new cables, restarting the TIVO; I even bought an amplifier. All to no avail. I spent three evenings on the phone with TIVO technical support trying my best not to pull my hair out while they asked me idiotic questions like, “Is it plugged in?” “Is the unit powered on?” “Have you tried a different cable?,” after I explicitly had told them I had gone through the website’s troubleshooting guide, in totality. Finally after talking to three of the most stubborn and non-tech-savvy people on the planet, they transfer my call to someone with a brain. It is quickly determined that the video card in the TIVO is failing and the unit will need to be replaced. Fair enough. I arrange to have the unit shipped back (at their expense), and they will refund my money so I can purchase a new box.

After a month of waiting for the shipping label it arrives and I send the unit back. After another month they still have not credited my credit card. It takes three more calls just to get them to do it, twice they had no record of previous contact! Idiots… I don’t see how you can afford to run a business by employing the lowest common denominator, it just doesn’t compute. Anyway, I finally got my money and went to order a new TIVO. Guess what, they no longer offer life time subscriptions. TIVO, in this brief two month window, has decided to do away with life time subscriptions in favor of a monthly service charge. So, now I’m infuriated. I have no TIVO, largely because of their slowness, and I am beginning to experience withdraw symptoms. I didn’t want recurring fees, that’s why we didn’t go cable. What kind of low life gives a gift to someone that the recipient has to pay for the next year? Further, the only real service they offer is TV Guide, that’s it. The hardware is nothing special, no magic, nothing proprietary. People in the computer community call it cripple-ware, because in effect, you are paying for services that are offered free elsewhere.

I refuse to pay TIVO another dime, both for their new pricing structure and their substandard service. Enter the PVR (personal video recorder) computer. I started with an old computer I had sitting around. I purchased a new TV card for it and I was off. Immediately there were problems. The video would skip every five seconds or so. I spent hours trying to diagnose the problem. After a week of endless tests, I gave up. The computer sat for another month while I contemplated (fumed), letting my thoughts coalesce. After much thought I realized that it must be an issue of processing power. I finally bit the bullet and ordered a new motherboard and 64-bit processor, ram, the works. Not quite top of the line, but two generations newer than what I had been working with. Once the new equipment arrived I ecstatically installed all my new components. Now the video was not skipping, hooray! But wait! Now the audio was not in sync. RAR! The only possible piece still underperforming was the hard drive. It was brand new, but I got it at a bargain price. Now I know why. The old adage is apt; you get what you pay for. I put in an older, yet more reliable hard drive, and it works like a champ! I’m even using a beta copy of Windows Vista, the next generation windows environment not even commercially available (I have hook-ups).

All is well with the world. Our TIVO is back. Yes, I realize TIVO is a brand name, but it has become synonymous with any PVR system, much as Kleenex is used for any tissue. I wonder though, did my pride again bring more hurt than gain?

New motherboard, processor, and Hard Drive: $344.
New TV Card and DVD Drive: $160.
New 5.1 Dolby Surround Sound Speaker System: $216.

Spending countless hours troubleshooting and finally stroking my ego, thus not having to pay TIVO $400: priceless…

Just a little off the sides please

2006-07-28T14:00:00.000-06:00

Well… today, it finally happened. It was a momentous occasion, though it came and went with little adieu. It took me two years and seven months, but I finally cut my hair! The last time I had my hair cut for was Kevin and Rachel’s wedding. People have been telling me I need to cut it for a year now. Friends, family, even my boss was starting to make fun of me. Though to be fair, his hair use to be longer than mine, before he started balding (or so he says). I really don’t care what people thought about it. It was just easier to let it be. Besides, think of all the money I save by getting my hair cut every two years! Really, the reason that I wanted to get it cut was that it was starting to annoy me. It was just too long to keep. There comes a point at which practicality must overcome laziness. Considering it was such a rare event, I am truly saddened that I did not take before and after pictures. I didn’t cut much off, it is still ridiculously long, but I bet I lost about six inches. I like it much better now anyway. It is easier to keep, not as hot, and doesn’t bother me all day.

What's up Doc?

2006-07-20T11:00:00.000-06:00

Okay, so enough was enough. Last week I went to the allergy doctor. I live with chronic allergies. Let me describe a typical day for you. I wake up at 4:45 AM, yes there is a 4:45 AM, promise. I can breath through a single nostril; the other is clogged, not from substance, just clogged. I blow my nose and get as much out as possible. This of course releases the flood gates, the magical barrier that keeps my nose from running all day. I live in a house with three cats, about two and a half tons of dust (loose estimate), and live near, and work in, Houston, a city full of molds, pollens, and pollution. Once the flood gates are opened, there is no stopping the flow. I blow my nose all day, but it never stops. Oh, I might get 15 minutes here or there without it running, but the beauty of it: when my nose is not running, it is itching like someone took a pipe cleaner wrapped with poison ivy and routed my nostrils with a righteous frenzy. The itch invariably brings sneezing, which again opens the passages to more running and the process starts all over! This is no way to live, if it can even be called that.

Meet Dusty the dust mite. He hates me.

Last week allergy man prescribed a few drugs to help. Now you should know this about me: I despise taking drugs. I don’t even like taking pain relievers for a headache. I avoid caffeine unless I need the energy boost in the morning (rarely). The body was designed to function without the need of all these drugs, and I am content to allow it to do so on most occasions. Now, after being on his drugs for a week, I am conflicted! The improvement has been drastic. I can breath through both nostrils, though it may sound trivial to you blessed folk without allergies, this is a major relief. My nose doesn't run or itch, at all anymore. So, what do I do? Continue with drugs, whose long term side effects are unknown, possibly doing irrevocable damage to myself, or enjoy the benefits of a normal life? What a quandary!

So I’m laying on the table at the doctors office, my back has been pricked with about 55 allergens to test for reaction. The nurse comes in about ten minutes after pricking me repeatedly (that was unpleasant) and says,

“So, how do you fee..Wow…”

“Wow what? Is that good or bad.”

“Oh, you’re definitely allergic to some stuff.”

“What, like everything?”

“Let’s just say that you’re special. Hear, let me wipe some of this off to reduce the reaction.”

Exit nurse. Muffled talking outside. Enter another nurse.

“Ah, you want to look too?”

“Yeah, she said you were really reactin… wow, you are.”

“Yes, yes, all the folk want to see the freak! You should charge admission,” laughing.

Exit nurse, enter doctor.

“Okay doc, how long do I have?”

“The verdict is in… you are allergic to… well, everything.”

“Told you.”

“Specifically: cats, dogs, dust, trees (yes all of them). You have three cats?”

“Yes.”

“You need to run away from that house as fast as you can! And don’t get me started on grass. Grasses... well, they hate you. Lets see, there are about twelve grasses we tested for and you’re allergic to... all of them. And not just allergic. I can’t even measure the allergic reaction because they are all blending in together.”

I looked in the mirror and it looked like I had been beaten with a Chinese cane for stealing bread. Two red stripes decorated my back with welts along the interior. Beautiful! I felt special.

“If you ever have kids I hope the mother doesn’t have allergies. If she does, I pity those children, because they're screwed.”

He prescribed even more meds to help me out. He temporarily put me on a steroid and warned me it might have the following side effects: increased hair growth, insomnia, increased appetite and weight gain, irritibility, and trouble concentrating.

“Hey doc, it sounds like I’m already taking those!”