…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!