Some late night musings

Two quick things:

One, I had a weird realization this week. I don't know what brought it on, maybe thinking about Inception, maybe this stomach bug I seem to have. But what I realized is that Return of the Jedi doesn't fit properly into Star Wars. I have never really given it a lot of thought before. I haven't seen Return since the re-release in '99. In the mean time, Lord of the Rings came and went and I had sort of lumped the two together in my understanding of trilogies. Lucas has peddled the idea that Star Wars was meant to be a trilogy from the beginning (which this article dispels). But LoTR has a definite goal and in pursuit of that goal, the stakes keep getting raised. Return gives us another Death Star and Ewoks. Also, Han is a caricature of his former character and Luke is a caricature of Obi-Won. I don't know what to do with this. I'll just table it for now.

Two, concerning net neutrality. I don't know what to do with this at all. A quick primer to those not familiar with it. Net neutrality is where everything on the internet can be accessed as quickly and easily as everything else. If net neutrality were not in place, internet service providers could give priority to certain sites or even block them all together. Pretty much everything I have come across on the subject (admittedly not much; maybe a dozen articles over several years; here are a couple good ones I have read recently) has viewed the loss of net neutrality as bad, that it would destroy the internet. But aside from generally disbelieving doomsday scenarios, I am starting to think that the loss of net neutrality could be good. Now, I highly doubt this will be read by anything like a hostile audience, but all the same please let me list off my reasons before lynching me.

Here is why I doubt it will much effect me to begin with. I only use the internet for a handful of tasks, mostly involving the reading and submission of text. For text and image based entities, I doubt that bandwidth is a serious problem. I do listen to a lot of podcasts, I do use YouTube and a few other video sources, and occasionally I play games online. There might be some problems there but all in all, the difference for me if I lost them would be mostly in novelty.

Here is why I think it could be good. Precisely the reason the internet works the way it does now is that it is free of interference. And I have to ask, is that a good thing? What that means, on the clearly bad side, is that most of the internet is porn. There is a rule of the internet, Rule 34, which states that if you can think of it, there is porn of it on the internet. And the existence of it, along with the ease of access, feeds the national addiction to it which in turn increases the demand.

But that is a subset of a larger problem, which is that the internet creates virtual communities as substitutes for real ones. Porn is just a part of this; it is fake, simulated intimacy. This is not to say that talking with people online is not real interaction or that a relationship is only significant if you can meat face to face. What it is to say that humans are physical beings and that there is depth in looking someone in the eye, shaking their hand, giving a hug, that the internet cannot supply. Which is where I think the porn comes in. I know this is a bigger discussion than what time I am devoting to it but I will just say this: how many times have you heard a story about an online affair that became a physical one? We long for presence along with conversation.

But the biggest thing is that the internet is a place lacking in justice. There is little accountability and no rules. And mostly, I just gloss over that. It's like walking through a bad part of town on the way to the theater. If you keep your eyes forward and don't dawdle, you should be fine. Just stay in the dim light from the street lamps and you'll make it. And eventually, you just stop caring that the internet encourages the worst and vilest kind of language and discourse, that it is filled with filth, that it facilitates theft, and generally just makes it all around easier to sin and harder to be righteous. Because that is just the way it is and I like my viral videos.

Well, so much for quick.

On Weariness and Humor

A strange thing has happened to me over the last few days: I don't find things as funny as I usually do. Generally speaking, I have a pretty broad sense of humor. I think it is related partially to having a fairly wide frame of reference. Instant understanding is key to comedy. The old saying about explaining a joke kills it. The other part is what I imagine to be a subconscious appreciation of good joke construction. Jokes play with our expectations, they present us with the unexpected. Even lacking a complete understanding of the material, a proper arrangement of the beats of the joke still rings true. This is often how I feel about xkcd. It isn't a strip written with me in mind. The writer presents things that interest him and he does it well and more often than not I find it hilarious. Just not today.

I'm sure it's just lack of sleep, the last side-effect of getting a tooth pulled out and the medicated existence of recovery. But it remains an unnerving experience. I hear a joke and recognize it as funny but the gut reaction to humor is diminished. The effect of comedy is cumulative and so even a minor reduction to the impact of jokes adds up pretty quickly. It's a numbness, one that reminds me of depression and my dark night of the soul. Hence the unnerving bit.

But as much as I love my sense of humor, as much as I have feared its loss in the past, that is not the numbness I should fear. Ecclesiastes says it is better to be in a house of mourning than a house of feasting. This is not to contradict Proverbs that says that laughter makes the bones fat. It is to say that the easiest way to escape our existential dilemma is find a quick laugh. We use humor to evade the pressing issues of our existence: life and death and the hereafter. Which is silly because we can't. Death is a certainty and when it stare us in the face, putting on a clown nose and giving it a honk won't cause it to turn away. As much as I enjoy times of laughter, what I need is to be able to feel pain so that I can deal with problems. I don't think it is a coincidence that the disease that Jesus dealt with most was leprosy.

I'm tired and not sure how to wrap this one up. Pain began with sin. Pain is a sign that something is wrong. Pain is a gift as it removes the illusion that this world is where we belong, that everything is as it should be. Pain draws us to the One who heals us, to the One who bore the brunt of our actions so that we might go home; so that we could be with Him.

Your kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.

A look at determinism

This strip is from just about my favorite webcomic, Schlock Mercenary (it is second only to Penny-Arcade and that is mostly because PA is more of a counter-culture revolution at this point). This captures what I feel about determinism in general and Calvinism in particular. Enjoy.

On Ann Coulter

So yeah...she's a handful.

I am not a particularly political person, mostly because it is neither fun nor funny and the people you would have to deal with seem to be demon possessed and/or dead. Also, and I can't state this strongly enough, I hate meetings. Hate them. All of them. They are, quite possibly, the single worst social invention in history and I want them all to stop. SOMEONE JUST MAKE A FREAKING DECISION ALREADY! WHY ARE WE STILL TALKING!

Sorry, I had a flashback to student government (story for another time). But as God is teaching me the necessity of not fighting the culture wars stupidly, I am trying to broaden my horizons about politics and how I should be involved as a Christian. Which brings me to Ann Coulter. Why, you might ask?

Apparently she is a Christian.

And now for the portion of the blog where I talk to myself:

Huh.

Yeah, I know.

But she's so...mean.

No kidding.

I mean, I'm not like that and I'm a Christian.

Well, that's true. Good thing you are not the standard by which all Christians are measured.

Fair point...but didn't I just state that I'm not mean?

Doesn't count when it is self analysis.

If you...

Ahem

...I say so.

And now back to the blog already in progress.

So, I'm looking at Ann Coulter and some of her articles and even an interview she gave a while back and I must say that I am a big fan. Her humor does not always work and yes, I find her to be harsh, but she is absolutely fantastic at pointing out the hypocrisy of the left. And now, for the other shoe.

Ann Coulter should not be doing what she is doing. But not for the reason that you think.

I was talking to my mentor one day and he was talking about Deborah, a righteous woman of God and the only female judge of Israel. He was talking about Deborah's song and how the form of it was Canaanite. What he said was that the point of the song was to parody the ways of the Canaanites in verse that the Canaanites would use in order to make the Canaanites and their practice ridiculous in the eyes of the Israelites. His analogy was Weird Al's Amish Paradise. You can't watch that video and then go back to Coolio's original. It's just not...cool anymore.

I feel like this is what Ms. Coulter does: she shows just how ridiculous liberalism is. But the thing about Deborah that is always at the forefront of my thinking about her is how she did not seek to lead Israel in war. That call was on a man, Barak son of Abinoam. He shrugged that responsibility by making his obedience conditional on Deborah's assistance and was therefore denied honor. This paradigm is what I think about when I think of male leadership. It is not that women are incapable of leadership or that they would do a bad job, it is that God has given to men a responsibility and when it is avoided, men are diminished and women are endangered.

I don't think Ann Coulter should be writing her books or doing shows not because she is wrong, because I don't think she is. I don't think she should stop because I don't like her style, even though I do think it could use some work (and I do mean some, mostly in comedic timing and a little bit of tact). I think she should stop because men should rise up to do what she does: calling hypocrites out on their hypocrisy. I don't want to be one of those men (see previous thoughts on meetings) but...well, Lord, do with me what You will.

On Memes

As I wait in a limbo of dental surgery delays, I would like to post this brief thought: of all the memes throughout the history of the internet, my favorite has to be the vuvezela. At this point, I must have seen (and I'm estimating) 2.4*10 to the eighth power vuvuzela jokes from various sources. I love them all. Each new take is special and precious in its own way, like a snowflake or like comments on how snowflakes are unique. But for all my love of this vuvuzela meme (and that love is quite vast), it does lack the utility of another recent meme, coincidentally also an annoying noise source that could not be stopped. I believe you know of what I speak.

Also, this is a pretty cool story/pic.

On Superman

I am still planning on posting my thoughts on Jesus, masculinity, and culture but that topic is a bit more complex. And since I just received a word of encouragement to continue in my writing, here is a brief aside on the greatest of all superheroes, Superman:

I have been reading comics for most of my life and by far my favorite character is Superman. It was not always so. I started reading X-Men due to the '90's cartoon and my older cousin's interest. The tale of a band of misfits fighting for a better world despite the animosity of the populace fit in well with an anti-social Christian kid. But it was my youth minister who got me interested in Superman. I got on board the comic during Grant Morrison's JLA run, which was right during the height of Superman, Electric Blue Boogaloo. Despite that, I loved Superman. I had glanced through enough comics at the grocery store (back when there were comics at the grocery store) to have seen his stories. I had caught the fringes of the death and return storyline, the return of Lex Luthor, and other assorted tales. Through my youth minister I learned a bit of his history, some of his story trends (every time that Superman is dealing with radiation poisoning, whether kryptonite or solar, Parasite shows up…every time), but mostly I learned to appreciate why he was the greatest.

Everyone knows Superman's origin story: the last child of a dead world, sent to Earth. But it wasn't until I started thinking about him in comparison to other superheroes that it started to make sense. Take Batman. Bruce Wayne was the son of loving, wealthy parents. And in an instant, they were taken from him, along with his innocence. Bruce Wayne died that day, and what took his place, though it would long go without a name, was a creature of pain and darkness. His is a life defined by loss, and as such it is supremely sad. Not so with Superman. His parents, in seeing the destruction around them, did the only thing they could to protect their son. They sent him away to a place beneath their technological might, which proved so lacking in saving themselves, but abundant in the one resource that any good parent wants for their child: love. And this is what defined him and is supremely beautiful. Batman does good in the hope of saving others from what he has suffered. Superman does good because the sacrifice made on his behalf was sufficient to save him. In light of the cross, I guess it's not too hard to see the appeal.

Input Processing

Things running around my noggin:
MMA, Jesus, and Masculinity;
Some post about the perpetuation of rape-culture in young adult literature;
John Greene giving dating advice.

Processing...

Processing...

Processing...

On Interpreting Scripture and Why We Are Screwed

So, I was looking through my RSS feed (man, I love that thing) and Christ and Pop Culture put up a link to an interview with Jennifer Knapp, talking about her life, her Sabbatical from Christian music, and her coming out of the closet. First, that makes me sad. I'm not a fan. I picked up one of her albums because it was free and have heard her music on KSBJ (before the advent of the iPod I used to listen to the radio; it's crazy). But from what I hazily recall, she did good work. But even had she not, she claims to be a Christian and I want good for all who make such a claim. And homosexuality is not good, it's not beneficial, and there will be a cost.

I am also perplexed. I read in Scripture a very strong and clear condemnation of homosexuality. It is a sin. So how do you go from Scriptures condemnation of it as an unnatural lust to it being acceptable and good? So, I read a bit of her interview and even a link to a gay christian website. That is when I got mad. Essentially, they accuse me of being fearful and bigoted, persecuting them like the Pharisees persecuted Jesus. Now aside from not liking being called a Pharisee...

...DON'T SAY THAT YOU ARE BEING LIKE CHRIST WHEN YOU ARE TWISTING SCRIPTURE TO JUSTIFY YOUR SIN!!! It's kind of like when a rich white guy compares himself to Rosa Parks (I cannot tell you how long I have wanted to use that reference) except INFINITELY worse because you are comparing yourself to our perfect Lord.

And that will end the screaming portion of this post. Because once the anger is acknowledged, the sadness returns. I don't know how it happened or when, but people who acknowledge a need for Jesus and for grace and for mercy have been deceived. It was Satan's first tactic and with it he excels. Satan was so bold as to attempt such a maneuver against Christ Himself. It's not a surprise that it worked on them or anyone else. It is so much easier to convince someone of a lie. There are people smarter, wiser, more informed, and have read the Bible more than me who are Muslims, Jews, Hindus, Buddhists, and Atheists. Just talking to one person who is sure that they are right makes me wonder if I'm the crazy one. But again, the unbelievers don't sadden me. And they certainly don't scare me. Because if you want to look at something truly terrifying, it is this:

"Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. Many will say to me on that day, 'Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and in your name drive out demons and perform many miracles?' Then I will tell them plainly, 'I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!'" -Matthew 7:21-23.

That someone could wield power in the name of God and not be saved, that they could go to their deaths convinced that they were Heaven-bound only to find that they were absolutely wrong. There is no metric for salvation save a relationship with Jesus. And without that, there is no revelation, no truth, and no hope.

Where there is no revelation, the people cast off restraint; but blessed is he who keeps the law. -Proverbs 29:18.

The Heavens Declare...

One of the sites I frequent is Astronomy Picture of the Day. They show a picture a day with a brief description from an astronomer. Whether you read the description or not, the images are gorgeous. This is one of those images (click said image if you want a better look at it):



"In the heavens there is nothing accidental, nothing arbitrary, nothing out of order, nothing erratic. Everywhere is order, truth, reason, constancy ...I cannot understand this regularity in the stars, this harmony of time and motion in their various orbits through all eternity, except as the expression of reason, mind and purpose ...Their constant and eternal motion, wonderful and mysterious in its regularity, declares the indwelling power of a divine intelligence. If any man cannot feel the power of God when he looks upon the stars, then I doubt whether he is capable of any feeling." -Cicero, On the Nature of the Gods.

There exist in creation so many things that bring about awe and wonder, that speak of transcendence. I don't know how anyone can escape that greater things are happening than can be accounted for by simply "matter plus energy plus chance." And on a lighter note because I just love this song:

I feel bad for George Lucas

I should preface this by saying that it is not entirely out of left field or out of some desire to establish nerd-cred. A few weeks ago, this article was posted on io9.com, which is a wonderful site for all things geek. And a week or so before that, my brother showed me this video. The article is about the fan reaction to Lucas' actions since the special edition of Star Wars and the video is about the "Han shot first" debate. And these have got me thinking about Mr. Lucas and the impact that he has had on my generation.

One of my first memories is of me, my brothers, and my cousins watching Star Wars. According to my parents, it was just about a daily occurrence. My Dad relates how we would have him read to us the opening lines of the title crawl, including "dot, dot, dot" for the ellipsis (I had to look that up to make sure I was thinking of the right term) at the end. Not "dot, dot." Not "dot, dot, dot, dot." This was important and had to be done right. I remember our cousins owning what seemed like thousands of Star Wars toys, including the Falcon and an X-Wing. I remember sitting on the bus when some jerk kid spoiled that Darth Vader was Luke's father (I realize that I didn't put a spoiler alert in that myself but it's been two decades and four films; I think you've had time to see Empire Strikes Back by now). I remember reading Splinter of the Mind's Eye, one of the first (if not the first) of the Star Wars novels, and the first book I read on my own for fun. Star Wars has had a huge impact on how I view heroism, the importance of narrative, and even how you should organize the Church (change "Master" to "Elder," "Knight" to "Deacon," and "Padawan" to "Layperson" and you pretty much have an ideal setup for making disciples). All of that is to say that this battle from a long time ago and a galaxy far, far away is a very large part of my life. I feel indebted to George Lucas and this funny little idea he had of a fantasy space opera. Which is why I feel bad for the man.

Now I realize how odd it is that I, a 28-year-old unemployed man living with his parents, feel bad for a 60 or 70 year-old-billionaire whose work has had a global impact. So let me explain that a little. There was a time long ago and far away where there was a guy named George who made movies. He had all these stories he wanted to tell, personal stories. The problem was that before working on all those other personal stories, he made Star Wars and it forever dominated his destiny. I don't know how Mr. Lucas feels about Star Wars, if he thinks it is the greatest story he could tell or just an easy way to make money. But whatever he feels about it, Star Wars owns Mr. Lucas. If anybody else surrounded themselves with as much Star Wars memorabilia as he does, we would call them obsessed, imbuing a love of Star Wars with religious fervor. We would pity them for not being able to differentiate between real life and fantasy. At the very least, we would say that they were stuck in the past.

The fan reaction to his new work doesn't help in the slightest (as illustrated in the io9 article). I don't know how you feel about the new trilogy but I hope that you can agree that the fan reaction is more than a little over the top (I don't know what surprises me more, that the term "George Lucas raped my childhood" exists or that it has been used so much). I won't say that I love the new trilogy. I don't. But I don't hate it (and actually, after reading the novelization of Revenge of the Sith [yes, I watched the movie and read the book; sue me], I appreciate what the overall story was accomplishing much more; I might even say that I liked it…might). I certainly don't feel any of the vitriol that so many of my fellow nerds feel. But I think I understand it.

I remember reading some article around the time the prequels were announced that put forth the argument for a sequel series instead. By this point, dozens of books following the adventures of Luke, Han, Leia, and company had been published. There was a wealth of source material to draw on for a sequel and the original actors were still available and young enough to take part in the endeavor. The prequel could be explored through other means, whether books, TV or some other media. It was a convincing argument to me, a chance to see something new. Instead, Mr. Lucas went back to scripts supposedly thirty years old. He was stuck in the past.

So, that is why feel bad for the man: he is a slave to his own success, shackled to a monument for over thirty years, and very alone. What is the Gospel for him? Jesus is not just bigger than your sins, bigger than your failures. He is bigger than your success. Bigger than your fame. Bigger than your ego. Bigger than Star Wars. And He won His battle a long time ago and very far away.

Quick Interlude

I realize that this is not about George Lucas. I started collecting my thoughts, walking and talking and recording. I finished my ramblings to find that I had recorded over twenty minutes of material, and that was incomplete. So, I'm going to have to break that up into a few posts. In the mean time, a brief account of what I did yesterday.

My brother was expecting an iPad at the shop yesterday but he was going to be tied up with new member class at church. So I go into the shop for 4 hours to wait for the delivery, only for it to arrive 10 minutes after he shows up. But the iPad (or as my little nephew calls it, "Daddy's big phone") is very nice. I wouldn't have any use for it right now but Apple makes pretty tech. But truth be told, I don't like the idea behind owning an Apple computer. The Mac versus PC argument is about freedom versus convenience. A Mac will do pretty much everything the average consumer wants it to do (except play most video games but consoles are so common that it isn't that big of an issue). And a Mac will do it fairly well, but you can only do it one way. If that one way doesn't work for you, you are boned. A PC can do everything that anyone wants it to do but the more customized you want it, the more work it takes. Truthfully, it isn't that I have done anything on my laptop that I couldn't have done on a PC (except, again for the video games). But having freedom I don't need right now is better for my sensibilities than having a shiny package I don't care too much about (blah blah blah, Calvinism reference). And I can still use my iPod Touch so best of both worlds.

Anyway, from the shop I went to the comic book store and picked up the last issue of Blackest Night (don't worry, K, no spoilers here). Since Blackest Night leads right into Brightest Day, it's no surprise that the final issue did not end the story arc. It was still a satisfying conclusion. Oddly enough, it was an ending like this that caused me to leave the Avengers after Secret Invasion. Well, that's not entirely true. The ending of Secret Invasion was much grimmer in tone. But what got me was that Secret Invasion, a story which spanned some dozen books a month, was leading directly into Dark Reign and another dozen or so books a month. And with that, I left.

Some breaks from books are longer than others. I left X-Men because Cyclops was telepathically cheating on Pheonix with the White Queen and then ended up with the White Queen after immediately after Pheonix's death. I mean, her body wasn't even cold, yet. Spider-Man made a deal with the devil (not figuratively, like the Green Goblin or Dr. Doom, I mean the Marvel universe's representation of the actual devil). And whatever rationale they have tossed out since then, heroes don't make deals with the devil. Period. These are big issues for me, what actually makes someone heroic. And though I have no doubt that such thins will be fixed down the line, until they are I am keeping my distance. But with all that said, I would pick up the Avengers right now if money weren't an issue. But since it is, I go with the mega-story arc that I prefer, where the heroes are just a bit more heroic.

But all of that is not what I wanted to talk about. For yesterday, April the Fourth, Addo Domini MMX, I began the most nerdy of all my endeavors: I spent multiple hours trying to decipher a made up language from a comic book (actually, spending some 50 hours working on an Excel D&D spreadsheet may be nerdier; I'll have to wait on the judges' decision). The whole process intrigues me: it's problem solving; it's storytelling; it appeals to my language skills; and it draws me into a conversation over a subject I like. So, anyone who possible stumbles onto this seeking clues to the meaning of the Indigo Tribe language, here are a couple good
places I have come across.

Well, so much for quick. Blessings.

…Now with 50% more Nerd!

I entitled this blog Jesus' Nerd for the simplest of reasons: I am a nerd who belongs to Jesus. This means two things for me in the posts I would want to make: one, I talk about Jesus a lot. Whenever you have a nerd, whatever term they use to preface that statement is usually what they talk about most of the time. There are many subcategories of nerdom, fiefdoms where the masses plant their flag. And you will find out quickly from which land they come and to which land they long to return. So, if I pursue Jesus in a nerdy way, I will love Him, learn about Him, and share what I learn. And in that regard, I believe the blog lives up to its name.

Where it has failed, more than not, is the second type of post: I talk about nerdy things and see how they connect to Jesus. There are multiple reasons to do this. One, I think that nerd culture has begun to move out of the dark, dank basement to which it had been consigned and into the light of the larger culture. This is certainly not a new phenomenon. The aughts belonged to the nerds. Video games are mainstream. Comic book movies have owned the summer box office. Computers are in everything. Even our president is a nerd. This is not to say that all things nerdy are cool. D&D is never going to be the thing to do at the club scene (or Magic: the Gathering; or Warhammer; or a thousand other things). But being a nerd is far from the insult that it used to be. In fact, it is next to impossible to not like something nerdy in this present age of geek.

The next reason is that I am a part of this culture. I have watched 95% of all Star Trek media (the only thing that I have not seen the bulk of is the original series and the animated series). I have read at least 200 Star Wars books (not including the comics, which I never really got into). I have been reading comics for over 15 years and own over 3,000. I have played games on every console ever made and have stood at more than one midnight release. By any standard (and maybe every standard), I am a nerd. So now, how can I be in this culture but not of this culture?

And that leads to the final point. We have a growing population of a subculture, a subculture spread out all across the country. Even if it is only 1% of the country, that's over 3 million people. And my guess is that that is an extremely conservative number. When World of Warcraft has had a subscriber base as high as 11 million plus just 2 years ago (and that "game" is one part fun, three parts job), we have a lot of nerds. So, what is the Gospel to them? Sometimes, it's real simple. The reluctant hero story is about the most common Sci-Fi story. Scripture is littered with such characters. Nerds love Tolkien; Tolkien loved Jesus. Even D&D creator, Gary Gygax, professed belief in Jesus, even while his most vehement opposition was from those who claimed the same.

Often, it takes more time. Paul didn't just walk up to the Greeks at the Areopagus (Mars Hill) and casually toss out that he noticed that they had an idol to the unknown God. At the very least, that was one idol among dozens, if not hundreds. Unless you knew to look for it, you would probably never find it. That is, unless you searched, long and hard, for some point of contact to get your audience from where they live to where God dwells, waiting in eager anticipation to welcome people into His home as sons from every nation and race and people. And every culture. Even if it is really nerdy.

So, I have at least a dozen posts on my docket. These are all things I am interested in; some of them that may actually be interesting to others. But I have a couple that are specifically nerdy, and those will take precedence for awhile. The first one (which is actually the one I set out to type as this one before I got swept away on a "Nerd Apologetics Mission Statement") will be about George Lucas. I realize that is a little on the nose for a nerdy post, but come on. I mean really, come on. You can't be a nerd and not have an opinion on the man. And for that reason alone, it's worth tackling.

How did the fantastic become mundane?

I was looking at digg and followed a link to this video. It is visually stunning and I loved it. Right with it is this video, which is the making of the previous video. And as stunning as the visuals were, the process behind it is more so, namely in the revelation of how much is CG. The short answer is all of it. But while you are watching, the only reason that you know that what you are seeing is CG is because it is impossible. And so, my question from the top.

I wonder about things that my nephews have now that I could not fathom when I was a child. The personal computer was a new concept when I was a kid. So were car phones. The internet was unheard of till my teens. We still have some VHS tapes lying around the house. It's not simply that all of these things simply appeared but within half a generation, they became commonplace and orders of magnitude better. How did all this become normal? There are places, many places, most places, where running water and electricity are non-existent.

I realize that this is not a new idea, the craziness that is our modern existence. Sometimes it just hits you: we live in the future.

P.S. Still waiting on a hovercar and robot.

Taking a Break

Just wanted to talk about something not theologically loaded so, two items:

Item one: This link is via Christ and Pop Culture. Now, I had never heard of Ken Myers before watching this clip (which, by the way, is nearly an hour, so be warned) but after about thirty minutes, I would have bought every book he has ever written and probably his top ten recommendations. Thankfully for my wallet, he has written only one book and he has a podcast. In any event, the video deals with such dense topics that I wish I had a transcript of it (that's not true; I wish I could hang out with him, record our conversations, and make transcripts of that). He talks about specialization of information mediums (for instance, a hymnal allows you not merely to list songs but to pass on a tradition of worship as well as instruction on music; a projector allows for convenience but also displays the transient nature of worship), how forms convey information just as words/lyrics do (certain kinds of music, regardless of lyrics, encourage a particular type of physical reaction through dance as well as an emotional reaction), and a host of other things. I will have to listen to it again tomorrow and take notes.

Item two: I went on this opening today to let a woman into her home. Dad was not feeling great and my brother was busy so I got the nod. The call went fine and the customer was quite appreciative of the service. We got to talking, as customers are wont to do, and she told me about the various stresses that made locking her keys in her house almost inevitable. Her oldest son is a tech in the Army, supposed to be fairly safe, but he fell off a guard tower on a rainy day and was injured. The injury itself was not too bad (broke a bone I think) but what happened was that he got an infection (I forget what she called it but she described it as like staph but much worse; started with an "M," I think). The infection went untreated for over two weeks and so now her son is in ICU about to undergo his fifth surgery. On top of that, her husband is flying back tonight, she is flying out, and she needed to go pick up her youngest boy. Suffice it to say, she was under the gun.

I confess to you now that I have never been good with dealing with other people's suffering. The tension of being truthful without dismissive is never more present then when someone is in the midst of crisis. And so, as she is describing her situation (as well as the string of six calls that it took to get a locksmith out to her) I know that I am there for a reason and I know that prayer is at the heart of it. But in my fear of appearing to push religion on someone in need, I finished up and only said that I would be praying for her and her son. Now, I say only purposefully because I find that people prefer to be prayed with and prayed over personally but I panicked and so it did not occur to me to just ask if she would mind. I don't want to make more out of this than it is and God will do good regardless of my clumsiness. I just missed out on a chance to see something of what he was doing.

What kills me is that I was listening to Ravi Zacharias on the ride there. He was making an observation about the story of Jesus healing of Bartimaeus. And it got me thinking about the faith it took to cry out for mercy to anyone when so many would have treated him as invisible or un-helpable or even deserving of his current state. And yet he shouted, over the protests and the jeers in the hope that Jesus might take notice. To think that any stranger would be concerned, let alone one whom he called "Son of David," and therefore a king and much favored by God. Mercy…he wasn't owed anything, he didn't deserve healing, but he needed mercy.

Dear Lord, have mercy on me, the greatest of sinners, unworthy though I am of your attention. I can't see what you are doing or how you are accomplishing it. I don't know what you are doing in the life of that woman or her son or the rest of her family. And yet, though I cannot see, I know that you are good and gracious and abounding in love and faithfulness. I pray that You will be glorified in their lives. I beg that you would be glorified in mine. Forgive me of my failings in your service and equip me to do those works which You have prepared for me. You are better than I ever dare to dream and I will thank You forever for the love you have bestowed on me.

On Why I am not a Calvinist, Part 3 (The legend continues)

So, after spending much of the last several hours thinking about (and being frustrated by) Calvinism, this story was sitting in my inbox. I am not exactly a Lucado fan and it has been awhile since I read anything of his, but this is enough to get me to break out that one book of his I was given as a graduation gift. If you do not tear up reading it, then you may want to make sure you still have a heart in your chest. It may not seem directly relevant to this discussion but I will get to that after.

Dear Friend

by Max Lucado

Dear Friend,

I’m writing to say thanks. I wish I could thank you personally, but I don’t know where you are. I wish I could call you, but I don’t know your name. If I knew your appearance, I’d look for you, but your face is fuzzy in my memory. But I’ll never forget what you did.

There you were, leaning against your pickup in the West Texas oil field. An engineer of some sort. A supervisor on the job. Your khakis and clean shirt set you apart from us roustabouts. In the oil field pecking order, we were at the bottom. You were the boss. We were the workers. You read the blueprints. We dug the ditches. You inspected the pipe. We laid it. You ate with the bosses in the shed. We ate with each other in the shade.

Except that day.

I remember wondering why you did it.

We weren’t much to look at. What wasn’t sweaty was oily. Faces burnt from the sun; skin black from the grease. Didn’t bother me, though. I was there only for the summer. A high-school boy earning good money laying pipe.

We weren’t much to listen to, either. Our language was sandpaper coarse. After lunch, we’d light the cigarettes and begin the jokes. Someone always had a deck of cards with lacy-clad girls on the back. For thirty minutes in the heat of the day, the oil patch became Las Vegas—replete with foul language, dirty stories, blackjack, and barstools that doubled as lunch pails.

In the middle of such a game, you approached us. I thought you had a job for us that couldn’t wait another few minutes. Like the others, I groaned when I saw you coming.

You were nervous. You shifted your weight from one leg to the other as you began to speak.

“Uh, fellows,” you started.

We turned and looked up at you.

“I, uh, I just wanted, uh, to invite … ”

You were way out of your comfort zone. I had no idea what you might be about to say, but I knew that it had nothing to do with work.

“I just wanted to tell you that, uh, our church is having a service tonight and, uh … ”

“What?” I couldn’t believe it. “He’s talking church? Out here? With us?”

“I wanted to invite any of you to come along.”

Silence. Screaming silence.

Several guys stared at the dirt. A few shot glances at the others. Snickers rose just inches from the surface.

“Well, that’s it. Uh, if any of you want to go … uh, let me know.”

After you turned and left, we turned and laughed. We called you “reverend,” “preacher,” and “the pope.” We poked fun at each other, daring one another to go. You became the butt of the day’s jokes.

I’m sure you knew that. I’m sure you went back to your truck knowing the only good you’d done was to make a good fool out of yourself. If that’s what you thought, then you were wrong.

That’s the reason for this letter.

Some five years later, a college sophomore was struggling with a decision. He had drifted from the faith given to him by his parents. He wanted to come back. He wanted to come home. But the price was high. His friends might laugh. His habits would have to change. His reputation would have to be overcome.

Could he do it? Did he have the courage?

That’s when I thought of you. As I sat in my dorm room late one night, looking for the guts to do what I knew was right, I thought of you.

I thought of how your love for God had been greater than your love for your reputation.

I thought of how your obedience had been greater than your common sense.

I remembered how you had cared more about making disciples than about making a good first impression. And when I thought of you, your memory became my motivation.

So I came home.

I’ve told your story dozens of times to thousands of people. Each time the reaction is the same: The audience becomes a sea of smiles, and heads bob in understanding. Some smile because they think of the “clean-shirted engineers” in their lives. They remember the neighbor who brought the cake, the aunt who wrote the letter, the teacher who listened …

Others smile because they have done what you did. And they, too, wonder if their “lunchtime loyalty” was worth the effort.

You wondered that. What you did that day wasn’t much. And I’m sure you walked away that day thinking that your efforts had been wasted.

Excerpted fromThey weren’t.

So I’m writing to say thanks. Thanks for the example. Thanks for the courage. Thanks for giving your lunch to God. He did something with it; it became the Bread of Life for me.

Gratefully,
Max

P.S. If by some remarkable coincidence you read this and remember that day, please give me a call. I owe you lunch.

From In the Eye of the Storm
Copyright (Thomas Nelson, 1997) Max Lucado

Now, clearly this unnamed Christian brother is living out the call to be Christ-like; to humble ourselves and pursue those whom Christ loves. And that humility, to do what God calls us to despite of the cost, is a principal point of the story. And what makes this man humble? That he pursues those who will scorn him, i.e. those who will not merely choose to ignore him but ridicule him for his attempts. In other words, the story is beautiful because it displays God's unconditional love. And loving only those who will love you is the definition of conditional love. But enough on that. It is not for the winning of arguments that we pursue such discussions but souls. I hope this story blessed you as it did me. I also hope that I don't get sued for posting it on my blog but I doubt that will be much of a problem, A.) because Lucade is a Christian and, B.) because who is ever going to stumble upon this site?

Go in courage. God is for you, who can be against you?

On Why I am not a Calvinist, Part 2 (Yeah, I guess this is going to be a thing)

Before I go on, I want to comment on my previous post. Writing the post and making the subject matter personal fired me up more than a little bit. Whether that comes across in the writing I would not be able to full say. What I can say is that I see it and I want to be very careful about that. In speaking about important things, the good goal is to bring glory to God; that at the end of the conversation Christian brothers can come together and rejoice that God is so much better than we deserve and yet He loves sinners like you and me. The bad goal is to bring glory to me, to prove that I am right and very literally) damn the consequences. By God's grace, I want to pursue the former and shun the latter. I also don't want to make it any harder for any brother or sister of mine to do likewise. Christ died for you too, as it happens. I figure that means something. That said, I would like to talk about the beauty I see in God's plan that would be irreconcilable with Calvinism.

Deuteronomy 16:16-17

Three times a year all your men must appear before the LORD your God at the place he will choose: at the Feast of Unleavened Bread, the Feast of Weeks and the Feast of Tabernacles. No man should appear before the LORD empty-handed: Each of you must bring a gift in proportion to the way the LORD your God has blessed you.

What do you get for the guy who has everything? This is not an uncommon question. The first time I recall hearing it was from an episode of Family Matters, and if it's being used in sitcoms from the 80's, you know it's commonplace. But the reason I recall that instance was that it was a Christmas episode and an angel was using it in reference of gift shopping for God. It was a quick laugh at the time but that has stuck with me all the same. It remains a pertinent question: what can I possibly give to the One who made all things.

I came across this text in my readings and it just stuck out. Let me tell you, reading through the Pentateuch has not often been the most fertile ground for me and yet this time around, things are popping up, connections are being made, for which I praise God. Ideas just get stuck in my head, this as example: no man should appear before the LORD empty-handed. And so I've been thinking about this a bit. Here's what I have.

What do you give to the God who has everything? What He asks for. For Israel that meant the Levitical system, adherence to the covenant. This was tied principally to the sacrificial system. And yet, what does David say:

Psalm 40:6-8

  Sacrifice and offering you did not desire,
       but my ears you have pierced;
       burnt offerings and sin offerings
       you did not require.

 
Then I said, "Here I am, I have come—
       it is written about me in the scroll.

 
I desire to do your will, O my God;
       your law is within my heart."

And again, in Psalm 51, repenting of Bathsheba:

Psalm 51:16-17

You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it;
       you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings.

 
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit;
       a broken and contrite heart,
       O God, you will not despise.

So what do you give? What do you have to give? Exactly what He gave us to give Him: a will submitted to His own. This is what Jesus patterned for us in His own life, illustrated perfectly in Gethsemane. It was not that Jesus had no options; that He could not have said no. It was that the cry of His heart to seek the will of His Father, more than His pleasure, more than His comfort, more than His life. To take away free, independent will is to take away a profoundly beautiful scene; to turn Gethsemane into an act instead of an example of precisely the relationship that our Father calls us into.

Lewis tells a story called sixpence none the richer. I will not be able to do it justice but I will sum it up: A child wants to get a present for his dad so he asks his dad for some money. The dad gives him said money, just pocket change, gets the gift and gives it to the dad. Now, as the title itself says, the father is not enriched in the slightest by the gift and yet he loves it. Why? Because he receives, through the giving of the gift, the love of his son.

I find it hard to describe how even relating that story moves me. That the God of the universe cares in the slightest what I do, let alone is active in drawing me in to a deeper relationship with Him when all I deserve is rejection, scorn, and death. That He cares about this little blog and my feeble attempts to grasp who He is. He is not enriched in the slightest and yet His glory is revealed in and through my life. And He loves it when I give Him a present that He paid for with His Son.

There is this quote from a monk whose name I can't recall. It goes something like this:

I do not know if what I do pleases You. And yet I hope that my desire to please You, pleases You.

Father, glorify Your Name!

On why I am not a Calvinist (Part 1?)

So, I was chatting with my cousins (technically my cousin and her husband but I digress) after community group about Calvinism and why I am not a fan (it was a lengthy conversation and I'm not sure how we got on to it; no seriously, I know I dog Calvinism a lot but I don't know how this particular conversation started). My cousins are going to this new, Acts 29 church and Acts 29, as an organization, is very heavily Calvinistic. I don't think my cousins had been Calvinist before this church but they would have been listening to Chandler and Driscoll for at least a year so who knows. In any event, I disagree and we hashed it out with no decisions made and that is perfectly okay for an opening salvo. But I wanted to put out what I think is the strongest philosophical argument against Calvinism. Actually, that's not true. I was thinking about the discussion as I was walking back to my car and this argument nailed me with all the force of why I don't think I ever could believe in Calvinism.

When I first started listening to Chandler and Driscoll, I found them to make a whole lot of sense. They are both clearly gifted preachers who love God, Scripture, the Church global, and their local congregations. I was being moved spiritually; I was experiencing depths of grace that I had only heard of before; and was generally improving and maturing in all areas of my life. And as they preach, Calvinism is trickling through their preaching. Now, I don't mean to say that Calvinism is evil or insidious. But I do believe that it is wrong and that the natural outworking of the Calvinist worldview is Hyper-Calvinism. I don't think I will ever forget Driscoll's narrative about Calvinism, which in brief is as follow: his daughter, in disobedience to his will, was running toward the street where she would have been run over; election is like when Driscoll reached out his hand to pull his disobedient daughter back from death. It is a good illustration and he tells it well. Here is my counter.

I have an adopted sister. She is by blood my cousin, the daughter of my father's sister. She was horribly abused as a child and as such, even though she was raised by my parents from about five till adulthood, she was always at odds with them. She was disobedient and manipulative every day of her time at my parents' home. But they didn't kick her out or disown her, even when keeping her has meant pain for them as well as embarrassment. And when I first started to give Calvinism thought, my sister not being in the elect was the perfect explanation. But here is what that would practically mean. The love my parents have shown to my sister is wonderful because despite her responses, they loved her. But if my parents had in their possession a pill that would cause my sister to reciprocate, to be able to build healthy relationships and mature; if my parents had had that pill the entire time she was with them and withheld it, purposefully, all the love they had showered on her would not be wonderful or glorious but exceedingly cruel. And it would be even worse if she would one day receive that pill but only after it was too late to have any kind of relationship with them. This is the other side of Calvinism, the daughter who is equally in sin and equally in need of saving but is not. It does not matter what the reason for not saving is and you cannot argue that God so loved the world if Calvinism is true. Period.