Second Drafts

Losing the Fight Over Love

My heart is heavy with all that is taking place right now concerning the debate over gay marriage. Apart from the issue itself, I lament the hostile rhetoric of it all and the way sides are being taken with so little nuance (see Facebook's pink equal signs and their "Christian" cross variations), not so much for a position but against someone else taking the opposite one.

With this in mind, I appreciate N.T. Wright's perspective on framing the discussion and would encourage you to give thought to it in terms of how Christians should engage:

As to the issue itself, I wrote about it here on the blog five years ago and you're welcome to agree or disagree. For a more recent treatise that I think worthy of your time, Voddie Baucham's article, "Gay Is Not the New Black," is an important piece that does a good job addressing the issues at hand in the context of the current rhetoric.

All that said, pray for our country, that regardless of whatever differences people have, we can show love to one another in our discussions of them.

Is Any Place Safe? Sadly, No

I've not had much time to follow the tragedy of today's elementary school shootings in Connecticut, but here are a few quick thoughts in their wake.

Few things strike us as painfully as the loss of children; we see Jesus love them in the New Testament and, as parents, we love them and would do all we can to keep them safe. Unfortunately, "safe" can become an idol, which shootings like the one in Connecticut reinforce.

In the next few days, we'll hear calls for more security and cries for more training - just like after Columbine, just like after Virginia Tech. Safety at all costs will be both the goal and the solution, but even with new safety protocols the Connecticut school district had just implemented, "safety" was not enough.

The simple fact is this: As long as evil still exists, none of our kids are truly ever "safe." It's not the way it's supposed to be, but it is the way it is.

This, of course, doesn't mean we as parents and administrators don't try. Like the doors in your home, we have locks on ours at school; as you keep tabs on your kids when they're outside, so do we when they're with us; similar to how you watch who has access to your kids, we do the same. We run "stranger danger" drills, we ask those we don't recognize to identify themselves, and we train staff to never leave kids alone.

Indeed, we pursue safety, but accurate thinking on safety is in degrees, not absolutes. Thinking more this way keeps us from being overconfident that, because we have locks on the doors and have run drills, nothing bad should ever happen. Walking our halls, I'm much more vigilant because I DON'T believe we're totally secure than I would be if I mistakenly thought we were. Despite our best measures, no school is "safe," and this should motivate us to do all we can to be "as safe as we can."

But none of us does it perfectly and, regardless of how safe we want to make this broken world, there's only so much we can do this side of God's complete restoration of it. I don't pretend to understand God's hand in this, another school shooting, but when I consider the extent and depth of our human depravity, I'm frankly amazed it doesn't happen more than it does. As much as some may want to blame God for the former, I choose to give Him credit for the latter.

Pray for the families in Connecticut. And pray for our Veritas families that, yes, our kids would be safe, but also that we would recognize how limited, vulnerable, and dependent we are on the God at work restoring the world we have so badly broken.

A Matter of Desire

"Are you on staff here?" asked the man, sticking his head in the door of the Coachmen's Lounge in the Carriage House.

"No," I said. (Not "No, but I used to be," or "No, but I sometimes wish I were." Just "No.") "I'm sorry I can't help you."

"That's okay," he said nonchalantly. "You just can't answer my question. Thanks." He smiled and left in search of someone who could.

This interaction sums up the gist of what hurts the most about returning to places in my past that I love: I can't help and I can't answer. To a wannabe maven like myself, this is the death knell of the soul (or less melodramatically, part of the heartache I've felt on this trip).

I didn't realize it until we were on the road, but on this family vacation (the longest - two weeks - we've ever attempted and I've felt the guiltiest about), Megan and I are essentially re-tracing our geographic, emotional, and spiritual history together.

Starting in Oklahoma City (where we now live and move and have our being), we spent two days in St. Louis (Covenant Seminary, teaching at Westminster) before spending four days in Illinois (where I grew up and we lived for six weeks before transitioning to the Lou).

Seven years later after starting seminary in the summer of 2005.

The new entry way to Westminster Christian Academy.

Cousins Ryan and Tucker filling water balloons with Maddie and Chloe.

Following our time on the farm, we headed out Colorado way, getting into Colorado Springs yesterday afternoon (where we met, started our family, and worked with The Navigators for 12 years at Glen Eyrie and Eagle Lake, the two Nav properties threatened and very nearly consumed by the Waldo Canyon Fire a few weeks back). We've already seen a bear up close and personal, and the girls are attending Day Camp through the week before we begin the trip back to OKC Friday evening.

A black bear taking a stroll in front of the Pink House.

Eagle Lake Day Camp at Glen Eyrie.

As much as these places in my past have stayed the same, they have all changed as well. When we stopped off at Westminster in St. Louis to see where I would have taught had we stayed, it was very different ($70 million dollars buys quite a campus and facility).

The Grand Hall at Westminster.

When we arrived at the farm, we barely made it in before the oil and chip crew finished my parents' driveway (something my dad repeatedly said he'd waited 39 years to do).

Maddie, Millie, Tucker, and Chloe getting wet (notice the new driveway).

Here at the Glen, we had the place to ourselves on a Sunday evening, but it's a very different (and much improved) place from when I was here in the first half of the 2000's.

Walking with Katie and Chloe through the Glen Eyrie grounds.

Being a recovering narcissist, I keep wondering how much of any of the change would or would not have happened had I stayed where I was? How would any of these or a thousand other decisions been made differently had I been around to be more involved in the discussions? And what does it mean for my ego that the decisions that did get made without me seem to have been, by and large, good and right ones?

It's a timely reminder, I suppose, that none of us are irreplaceable and that we should not think of ourselves as such. This does not mean that we are unimportant and unable to serve in God's grander narrative, but it's humbling to relearn again and again this lesson: though I want to matter, mattering is not what matters most (or even at all) in the economy of God. He is the only real Matterer.

I know and believe this, but my heart struggles with the feeling and truth of it. Forgive me, Lord, for allowing my desire to matter to be such a matter of my desire.

And Now, Melancholy

Every now and then, my melancholy gets the best of me and things go a little gray here on the blog. Maybe it's the rainy weather we're currently experiencing over all of Spring Break (or just the fact that I haven't really been able to take one), but I'm a little down.

No need to feel sorry for me, though (I'm quite capable of doing that on my own). Some things I've heard myself thinking of late (perhaps you can relate and at least know you're not alone):

• I increasingly find myself chained to my laptop. While I love my Mac product(s), I don't like being inseparable from them. True, all it takes is shutting the lid, but so much of what I do requires time on it that it's beginning to lose its luster.
• The amount of time spent thinking about life outside these United States continues to dwindle as I get older. Part of this is has to do with plenty of other thoughts occupying my head; part of it has to do with the fact that there is just no way to afford such travel anyway, so why bother? I want to care more about the world, but I don't.
• Speaking of money, it's wearying watching people throw money at things that don't matter (and I'm not just talking about our federal and state governments), especially when I have so many better ideas of what they could do with it. My heart is living in Psalm 73 these days.
• Our yard is little more than weeds right now, and after the rain of the past 24 hours, the weeds are all submerged in a big swamp. I want to care about property, but when things happen beyond my control, it becomes more of a challenge.
• I'm thinking about lighting my desk on fire so as to gain a fresh start there (it's amazing to me how far I've fallen in this area of organization, particularly when I think of past posts like this one).
• The idea of ever writing a book again is, at best, as or more fleeting as my cluttered attention span. (Sadly, the same could be said for ever reading one again as well.)
• I continue to see my many failures as a husband and father and wonder how our family is really going to turn out when it's all said and done. Being married and parenting is hard and I wish I were better at both.

So there you have it - a collection of (mostly) first world problems that I'm even embarrassed sharing (yet another contributor to my funk of late). Of course, there are deeper issues beneath these scenarios, so pray I can recognize and offer them to God and regain some hope in my fallen perspective.

That is all.

(Melancholy (1891) painting by Edvard Munch)

Black Friday Haiku

Black Friday masses
Discounted idol worship
Redeemed by retail?

Man Crushes & Bromances: The Movie

Jon Barlow and I have been online "friends" (Facebook, blog comments, etc.) for probably 4-5 years, live five minutes apart, are graduates of the same seminary, have many mutual friends in the PCA, and are involved with the same school (I'm a teacher; he's on the board). Both of us have four kids each (I have four daughters; Jon has four sons), and we both love our wives, our kids, theology, philosophy, good writing, interesting music, and well-made films. We both think pretty well in terms of pop culture, and both of us probably spend too much time online (though Jon's finishing his PhD at SLU, so I'm not sure).

The funny thing is, while there seems to be a degree of mutual respect for one another, Jon and I have never met face-to-face. I think our story would make a good movie.

Here's the thing: the thirties are a busy time - possibly the busiest, I've been told by many, for a variety of reasons (young families growing, career paths taking off/changing, etc.). For those of us guys who are more introverted and emotionally fragile (yes, I'm being serious), it can be hard to get below the surface of news, weather, and sports with other men. While I can't speak for Jon, I know I haven't had the depth of male relationships in my thirties that I had in my twenties; more breadth, yes, but depth, no.

Here's a post from Jon's blog which, after reading, I knew we could be friends:

"At church, I feel like a ghost. It is so hard to get to know people in the few milling-around minutes that are available each Sunday. Especially when you've gotta watch your four boys to be sure they aren't running around or misbehaving. At school, I feel like a ghost. What am I going to do - hang out around the office and talk theology? How is that going to ever happen? I'm least ghost-like at home in the few hours between when I get home and when the boys go to bed, and I'm least ghost like in situations where I have to be there for a set amount of time to do some task. But even at the office, I find it hard to really get into my co-workers lives and learn about them. I keep thinking how the boss needs to get this project finished so he can bill it and make payroll for me and the others.

Part of this is also just the season of life that one is in at the time. When kids are young, you can't really be hitting the nightlife, whether recreational or educational, even in a great city like St. Louis and even community involvement is very difficult. And so I think you grin and bear it and hope for a better day and just try to stay sane and healthy and do what you can. The hard parts are those quiet moments - maybe you wake up before everyone else or you're in a public restroom or walking somewhere and there's no radio, no television, no one talking, and you're just stuck with yourself and all the crap in your life is circling your brain like electrons around the core of an atom and you're bewildered and saddened. But I guess that's why they invented the cell phone, so that a game of solitaire is never too far away. Pitiful, but true."

What if Jon and I - without ever meeting - wrote a screenplay about two average, semi-interesting, clearly heterosexual guys who are married, have children, and struggle to make ends meet in their quest to educate themselves and others about God's Word and world. And yet while they know of, know about, and know electronically the other, they never meet - on purpose, it seems - even though they have every opportunity to do so geographically, vocationally, and relationally? What would be gained or lost? And do they meet in the end (and so what if they do)?

Last week, Jon posted on his Facebook page that he was in need of some new clothes because, after years of seminary and grad school, all his clothes were wearing out all at once. I happened to have pants that no longer fit me but matched his measurements, so I messaged him and told him I'd be glad to get them to him if we could figure out a drop that maintained our non-acquaintance existence (the whole thing has kind of become a joke between the two of us, but honestly, I think we're both a little afraid of what might happen if we actually meet face to face - too much friendship pressure). As he had a board meeting at school (in my room, no less), we agreed that I would leave the pants in a bag on my desk for him. The drop worked and we maintained our no-meet streak.

Think of all the humorous scenes we could play out like this in a movie. We've already been in the same room together with neither one of us realizing it until later; we've both found out after the fact that we've been at my township's local arts fair at the exact same time but our paths never crossed; we've both had people tell us (or at least I have - I won't speak for Jon) that we'd be fast friends, but for whatever reason, even when we once tried to get our families together for dinner, things didn't work out. (I'm sure we've been at other events that neither one of us knew about the other being there as well.)

But here's the best part (for the movie, at least): What if, after we get the screenplay written (separately, of course) and some independent film company picks it up and produces it, what if as part of the build-up and promotion of the film, we finally meet on opening night at some film festival somewhere, families in tow and with the joke finally over? What if the film turned into some huge commentary on the challenges of real male friendship in an extremes-preoccupied world (sports fans on one end, geeks on the other), as evidenced by the reality that terms like "man crush" and "bromance" have crept into the vernacular as guys try to describe respect and even affection for one another without being talked about with raised eyebrows? What if?

I'm just throwing it out there. Would you go see a flick like that? What other motivations, scenes, or characters might make it compelling to watch? What would you call it? And do any guys resonate with what I'm talking about, or is this a movie no one would go see? I know the idea is rough and needs refining, so here's your chance to make it better.

On the Yard Sale

So we had a yard sale this past Saturday. Apart from the 95-degree temperature and the 100% humidity, it was good: we got rid of some stuff, made some money, and had a very good reason at the end of the day to collectively hit the sack at 9:30 p.m.

Personally, yard sales are too intimate an experience for me to really enjoy; there's just something awkward about strangers publicly evaluating what you once thought you wanted. Maybe I just felt self-conscious about all the old Stephen King novels I was getting rid of (would you want to know that YOUR neighbor has read a majority of the man's books?), but the whole process seems a huge invasion of privacy.

As I was enduring the invasion, I took some mental notes on the variety of yard-salers we encountered during the day. I don't pretend that this list is exhaustive (and feel free to add your own set of usual suspects in the comments below), but generally speaking, here's who I did business with during our particular sale on Saturday:

The Early Bird: This person pays no attention to any printed given times as to when the yard sale officially begins; if the sign says 8 a.m., then 7:30 it is. Thankfully, she doesn't talk much and rarely gets offended if and when you have to ask her to move so you can set up another table of items you're trying to sell, so it's usually best to just let this one be.

The Snob: This person parks right in front of and as close as possible to your yard, gets out of her still-running car with her nose stuck up in the air to pick up your sale's "scent," and surveys what she already knows you have - nothing she would ever want. Having convinced herself of this truth, she gets back in the car and drives off, grateful once again that she did not waste her time on your junk (and, honestly, good riddance).

The Critic: This person is a distant cousin to The Snob, the difference being that he actually gets out of the car to look through your stuff. Unfortunately, while The Snob communicates her disdain for your offerings from a driving-off distance, The Critic chooses to verbalize his disgust on-site instead, particularly if he feels you have overpriced anything (and especially if he secretly wants to buy it).

The Cheapskate: This person looks through everything - and I mean everything - you have in your yard, taking his time to muse over what its value must have been to you at some point and wondering what must have happened that you would put it up for sale now. Having so cheaply entertained himself with various and sundry scenarios and plots, he finally picks one item priced at fifty cents and asks if you would take forty for it (after all, one's man's memories are another man's bargains).

The Haggler: While often confused with The Cheapskate, The Haggler is actually willing to spend money for what she wants...so long as the sale price is below the amount that's currently listed. Hers is not a campaign motivated by finances but by victory, as every piece she has ever purchased at a yard sale comes with a complete oral tradition of how much it was, how much she ended up talking the owner down, and why the difference between the two prices makes her superior to the rest of humanity.

The Scanner: This person is usually drinking Starbucks and shows up with his own hand-held bar code scanner, which he uses to check resell value on anything with a bar code. Never mind what the item actually is or what the book in his hand might be about, all this guy cares about is what it's currently going for on Ebay or Amazon, as this will determine his purchase decision. This was a new one for me.

The Road Trip: This person is not really a person but multiple persons all crammed into one vehicle out hitting yard sales en masse. The goal (I assume) is to have fun going to yard sales together (which seems incredibly flawed thinking in itself); the reality is that with so many people in the car, there's no room for what one might want to buy, especially if it's a bigger item. Tip: Be sure to get their money before you promise to hold something for them while they go and get another vehicle (no sense losing a possible sale if they happen to get in an accident joy-riding).

The Buzzard: This person shows up toward the end of the sale and, since she missed all your good stuff, somehow feels entitled to a much lower price than the one listed before she will even think about buying your pathetic leftovers. Sadly, though you'd like to ask her as a matter of principle where she gets off imposing her discount assumption on you, you know she has you, as you really don't want to haul your stuff back in the house; thus, you end up (grudgingly) caving to her demands.

I'm sure there were plenty of others I could list if I really wanted to get mean, but I'll stop for now (I do wonder if different geographic areas of the country sport different yard-saler species or if they're just variations of the ones above). Of course, there were plenty of really nice people - friends, neighbors, people we'd never met before - who stopped by as well, bought some lemonade or stuff, and just talked a while, which was nice.

All in all, it was a good day and I'm glad we did it, though as with every yard sale, I'm always glad when it's over and am in no hurry to do one again anytime soon.

Lawn Mower Civics

Mowing the yard is one of my favorite ways to celebrate the Memorial Day weekend. I suppose caring for the tiny piece of land I own is my noble attempt at recognizing the American traditions of honoring soldiers' sacrifices and observing summer's arrival.

Perhaps like many, I don't always think about the freedoms we Americans enjoy, which is why Memorial Day (and what we do on Memorial Day) is important. As we've done in the past, we went to Jefferson Barracks today (here are some pics):

 

 

Mowing on Saturday and attending the Memorial Day service today got me thinking about ability - specifically, all I am able to do in the U.S. because I happen to live legally within her borders and laws. Here are just a few abilities I have as a U.S. citizen not necessarily guaranteed elsewhere in the world:

I'm able to have four children (all girls). In China, I could only have one child (and the government would want that one to be a boy, so any girls might get aborted).

I'm able to keep a blog or a write a new book without having to submit either to a censor for approval. In North Korea, neither is really an option (Internet and independent ideas don't jive too well with totalitarian government regimes).

I'm able to freely live and believe according to the Christian Scriptures. While ours is not (nor ever has been) a "Christian" nation, I rejoice at being able to live freely as a Christian within our nation (try testing day-to-day religious diversity in, oh, say, Iran or Saudi Arabia and see where and what that gets you).

Now, lest you think this is just a nice patriotic post on freedom (I've tried those a few times before - 1, 2, 3, 4 - but they never seem to end up too warm and fuzzy), let me talk honestly about some personal inabilities that I wrestle with in our fair democracy (for those of you with USA bumper stickers and T-shirts, you might want to stop reading now):

I'm unable to trust elected political leaders. It doesn't matter the level - national, state, local - nor the branch - executive, legislative, judicial - nor the political affiliation - Democrat, Republican, or Independent - politicians do not have the luxury of asking for my trust and assuming they have it. I am sick of the lack of integrity, of the abuse of power, of the CYA spin, and of the arrogance to think I do not understand enough to know what's really going on. As far as I'm concerned, politicians can save the rhetoric for their consciences (if they still have any left); their words no longer affect me.

I'm unable to trust government workers. Call it guilt by association, but I'm tired of hearing about those who work for a government agency who seem all too content to siphon off their part of my taxes with little to no thought as to for whom they're really working (example). I'm not saying there isn't a place for public service (and I'm not saying every government worker is like this), but there is a philosophical difference between earning a living and spending an apportionment, and most long-term government leaders and workers don't understand it.

I'm unable to trust the media as a true Fourth Estate. It's not as if I did before, but the more I read or watch supposed "trusted" news sources, the more the agendas (liberal, conservative, etc.) spill over. One can blame the Internet, I suppose, for severely crippling the budgets of most newspapers and magazines, but someone needs to explain to our media outlets that their job is not to sell stories but to tell them. I'm done with opinion columnists masquerading as reporters (are you listening, Newsweek?) and find myself incredibly skeptical of the phrase "Here's what's making news" when it should really be "Here's what WE'RE making news."

I'm unable to trust the American Dream. This has never been much of a motivator nor temptation for me, but if it were, it's become even less so in recent recession years. While cries of socialism/communism have found their way into the public conversation of late, pure laissez-faire capitalism is not the answer either. If the past ten years have taught us anything, I would hope it would be that life and meaning are bigger than an economic system, regardless of which system it is.

Jane Jacobs, in her 2005 book, Dark Age Ahead, argued that "we're stumbling into the same cultural decline that befell the Roman Empire." One of her overarching premises was that mass amnesia - not only forgetting something but forgetting that you have forgotten it - is the main cause of a Dark Age. "When the abyss of lost memory by a people becomes too deep and too old," she wrote, "attempts to plumb it are futile."

Jacobs went on to identify five pillars of society we need and have come to depend on:

• community and family
• higher education
• the effective practice of science and science-based technology
• taxes and governmental powers directly in touch with needs and possibilities
• accountability by the learned professions

She concluded that we in America "are dangerously close to the brink of lost memory and cultural uselessness" concerning these. I concur: We are suffering from mass amnesia these days about most things having to do with taxes, governmental powers, and accountability in the economic, scientific, technological, and (sadly) even religious sectors of our society. We have forgotten that we have forgotten. Memorial Day calls us to remember; interestingly, Deuteronomy does, too (fourteen times, as a matter of fact).

We in America are and always have been a country of ability, but are there others who sense a growing tide of inability washing away the sands of strength from our U.S. shores (at least the ones not covered in oil - thank you, BP)? Care to add to either list (ability or inability), or offer something you think we've forgotten that we've forgotten? I'd welcome your thoughts.

Until then, I may go mow some more...

Summer 2010 Preview, Etc.

Sitting here on a Sunday night listening to some Lucinda Williams and doing a little writing. It's been a while since I've done a summary post of sorts, so since Megan and the girls are out of town and we're collectively an entire season behind to really make the LOST finale worth watching, here are a few things I've been thinking about and/or looking forward to:

School: This week is finals week, so I'll be spending most of my time grading. The good news is, unlike the past three years when I was evaluating projects and papers, I'm going into finals week with nothing other than finals to grade, so that should make for a little less consuming week in general.

In other school news, I've signed on for another year at Westminster, but my role is changing a bit as I'll be leaving the world of freshmen New Testament behind for fourth section of sophomore Ethics and one section of senior Worldviews next year. I'm glad for the transition all around.

One last note on the school front (this time the homeschool front), we're going to be entering a new stage of education here at home. This fall, our two oldest girls will be full-time students at Central Christian School in Clayton, while Megan continues leading the Classical Conversations group and homeschools our younger two (here are details from Megan's perspective).

Summer: In addition to writing (more on that below), my primary goal in June is to hang out with the little ladies, read some books, and get a few projects done around here. In addition, I'll help coach our Westminster summer baseball team for a week in June, as well as get trained on some new school information software, as I've been asked to be a mentor teacher to the rest of the staff this fall.

July ups the ante considerably in terms of travel, as we're planning a family trip to Colorado Springs, as the girls are now old enough (somehow) to attend The Navigators' camping programs (Eagle Lake and Eagle's Nest) we helped lead back in the day. I'll try to see as many folks as I can in a few days' time before I jump on a plane from Denver to Portland for my third year as part of Westminster's Summer Seminar. This time, I'll be investing ten days with 25 soon-to-be seniors in Washington state instead of South Dakota, after which I'll fly back to Colorado and then we'll all drive back to Missouri.

August sees staff reporting as earlier as the week of August 9th, but I'll have a few publishing projects to edit and design from the Washington trip, as well as a fair amount of prep work to finalize for my new Worldviews class. Orientation starts the 12th and the first day of class is the 16th.

Studying: Despite baseball high-jacking my time and energy, I've been reading in a couple areas of interest this spring, not the least of which has been the study of the end times, or eschatology. N.T. Wright's book, Surprised by Hope: Rethinking Heaven, the Resurrection, and the Mission of the Church, has been helpful, as has revisiting my notes from seminary (particularly Dr. Dan Doriani's notes from his Epistles and Revelation class). Of the three years I've taught Revelation to my freshmen New Testament classes, I feel like I've done the best job this year.

I'm also finishing up a couple books on education, namely John Dewey and the Decline of American Education by Henry T. Edmondson III, Curriculum 21 edited by Heidi Hayes-Jacobs, and The Secret of TSL by William Ouchi. It seems I've been reading these for a while (and I have), but there's been some good content that's come as a result.

Looking ahead, I have some Worldviews reading to do this summer, including (Re)Thinking Worldview by J. Mark Bertrand; The Compact Guide to World Religions edited by Dean C. Halverson (ed.); The Journey by Peter Kreeft; Total Truth by Nancy Pearcey; and The Universe Next Door by James W. Sire. Should be fun.

Writing: Now that my second book, Learning Education: Essays & Ideas from My First Three Years of Teaching, is finished, I'm turning back to finishing the ThirtySomewhere manuscript this summer. I'm still looking for a formal publisher to get behind it, but now that I've experimented with the self-publishing gig a bit (and am still experimenting), I may go with what I've got at some point this fall and see what happens. We'll see.

I plan to continue blogging here, though I really wonder how much people are interested in anything longer than 140 Twitter characters these days. Speaking of which, I've enjoyed Twitter enough to keep using it, but there again I just have no way of really knowing how far the medium's actual reach is so as to invest more time in it. Oh well.

Guess that's it for now. There's more, but this is long enough. I'll try to post a few more thoughts later on this week (nothing brings out literary creativity like the desire to avoid grading). Have a good one.

Happy Post-Easter Thought

From Surprised by Hope by N.T. Wright:

"As the reformers insisted, bodily death itself is the destruction of the sinful person. Someone once accused me of suggesting that God was a magician if he could wonderfully make a still-sinful person into a no-longer-sinful person just like that. But that's not the point. Death itself gets rid of all that is still sinful; this isn't magic but good theology. There is nothing then left to purge. Some older teachers suggested that purgatory would still be necessary because one would still need to bear some punishment for one's sins, but any such suggestion is of course abhorrent to anyone with even a faint understanding of Paul, who teaches that 'there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ.'" (p. 170)

And continuing on in Romans 8:10-11:

"But if Christ is in you, although the body is dead because of sin, the Spirit is life because of righteousness. If the Spirit of him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, he who raised Christ Jesus from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit who dwells in you."

The point: death deals with sin and it is done; life comes by resurrection...and then after it, according to Wright, as resurrection is really "life after life after death." (p. 169)

Grateful to God for his mercy and grace to even be able to think, dwell, and hope on any of this today...

Why Johnny Can't Write (Part 2)

(Continued from my previous post on the topic; sorry for the delay/random smatterings. Can't believe it's taken two weeks, but I'm guessing you found other things to read).

With regard to the problem of teaching and learning the Bible, David Nienhuis sums up the problem nicely: "Biblical literacy programs need to do more than produce informed quoters. They need to produce transformed readers."

Most Scripture memory programs focus on the imperative verses (what to do), almost completely ignoring the indicative verses (what is true). In other words, we in the church spend more time telling kids (and ourselves) what to do for God rather than what God has done for them (and us). In the evangelical church, we're all about the what and how, and hardly about the when, where, and why.

But let's not pretend that decontextualization is just a biblical literacy problem specifically; in today's postmodern world (or post-postmodern world some would say), it is a literacy problem in general. Here's where we come back to basic reading and writing skills, and these skills' corruption by the very thing so many proclaim will help - technology.

There is, after all, a difference between learning something and learning how to search for something. Is one better than the other? That's a debated question: does a kid really need to learn when or where or why an historical event took place, or does he just need to learn how to search for it effectively with Google? How you answer this question has everything to do with your pedagogy, and while I don't think the two answers are mutually exclusive, I do think the former gets short shrift compared to the latter.

Think about this: nobody memorizes phone numbers anymore because we can just input them into our phone, press the name of the person we want to call, and dial the right number. This works great...as long as we have the phone. But what happens when we lose the phone or the phone stops working? How do we get a hold of the person we're trying to call? What do we really know? We know that we want our phone back and working again, and we realize how lost we feel without it. (Note: For the other two of you in the world who, like me, don't own a cell phone, apply the idea to losing your Web browser bookmarks...it can seem like the most helpless feeling in the world.)

The point is that we live such a wi-fi-enabled, out-sourced, off-site, backed-up life that we use our brains for little more than remembering where we store our passwords than what it is (stories, ideas, responses, reflections) they protect. Ours has evolved into such a non-oral tradition "tradition," that the thought of memorizing sonnets from a poem or narrative stories from the Bible for meaning and not information seems archaic and unnecessary. If we think we need it, we can find it; we don't need to learn it. And if we don't think we need to learn it, well, who cares?

The result of all this (or at least the result I see in the classroom) is a student who struggles to write or process ideas that take more than a paragraph to explain (see this Onion article for a humorous version of the problem) growing up in a culture that validates his multi-tasking dysfunction despite studies like this one and articles like this one that question it as a good means to deal with life. As an educator, I suppose I risk becoming suspect to students and parents (and perhaps colleagues and administrators) in calling for moderation and (at times) sobriety when it comes to drinking the technological Kool-Aid, but when I watch a program like Frontline's Digital Nation: Life on the Virtual Frontier, it confirms my concerns. Again, I'm not down on technology, but idolatry is a different matter.

Maybe it's because of the subjects I teach (New Testament and Ethics) or the experience (or lack thereof) I've had in the classroom, but depending on technology instead of using technology to teach seems ridiculous for many reasons, not the least of which is this: what if the power or the Internet goes out? If I can't teach apart from my laptop with its Keynote presentations and Web-access and wikis and online forums and Skype conversations and YouTube clips and ITunes access and podcasts and Scripture software - all of which I use in the classroom - then I'm not sure I'm really much of a teacher.

I need one more post to respond to some of your questions about how we try to apply any of this here at home with our own kids. I promise I won't take another two weeks to get to it, so hang in there. In the meantime, here's a link to the blog of one of my students who has the increasingly rare gift of being a sophomore in high school and able to utilize technology while still thinking and writing meaningfully. Enjoy.

Play a Man's Game, But Will Men Will Show Up to Play?

Over the past few days, I've read several interpretations of this year's Super Bowl commercials, many in which men seemed chastised for not being "male enough." (I noticed the trend myself in real-time on Sunday, but hadn't had time to put down my thoughts until now.)

Personally, my reaction to the ads was positive, if for no other reason than that advertisers seemed to be targeting a demographic other than just the metro-sexual and hyper-sexual male types. Instead, this year's crop of commercials seemed aimed at the wimpy male type - the guy who, either outwardly or inwardly, has basically surrendered his masculinity to his more "feminine side" (if there is such a thing) and needs to buck up and be the man in the relationship (whatever relationship that happens to be).

The first ad toward this end was for Dockers and their call for a Pantsformation. What I took from it was the call to men (mostly slobbish, out-of-shape guys who take pride in their slobbish out-of-shapeness) to dress up a bit and, well, "wear the pants" of initiative in life:

Another one in this same vein was for Flo.tv. This commercial applied the "buck up" theme to a particular male/female/sports relationship triangle in which a guy lets his girlfriend walk all over him when he would rather be watching the game. CBS sports anchor Jim Nantz's comment at the end: "Change outta that skirt, Jason." (Ironically, Nantz divorced his wife of 26 years last October, so I'm not sure his words and example are the best to follow concerning the aforementioned male/female/sports relationship triangle.)

Apparently, a lot of women had trouble with this next ad from Dodge, as it came off "ridiculously misogynist and hyper-masculine" in its portrayal of men's brooding anger at having to deal with women's demands before making "Man's Last Stand" and choosing to drive a Dodge Charger. While I'm no expert on the matter of misogyny, there does seem to be a fair amount of emasculation the men in the commercial are trying to withstand (albeit with a pretty shallow course of action in simply owning the car of their choice):

Perhaps the one spot I liked most was Dove Men+Care's "Journey to Comfort" ad. Though I have no plans to buy their product (sorry, Dove, but I feel comfortable enough in my own skin not to care that much about it), I could relate to the frenetic life documented in the commercial, as well as the sense of accomplishment that comes with having (so far) survived it.

Whereas the typical Super Bowl fare might (and did) include the typical "cars, cash, and cuties" commercials, this year's collection seemed more geared to appeal to a man's needs as much or more as his wants. Though wrapped in humor, subtle acknowledgments of a man's desire for purpose, respect, adventure, and success seemed to upstage the normal bounty of commercials boasting of beer and babes.

The thing I take from all this is - newsflash! - there's some real confusion out there as to what true manhood entails, so much so that it's become a national joke during the biggest television event in the world. Have we really come to a point where men are so comfortable laughing at and thinking of themselves as mere "male wannabes" that advertisers have recognized a whole new market to target?

All Dressed Up with Somewhere to Go

Believe it or not, this picture perfectly illustrates how I think about a new year: dress for the occasion, show up early and hope for the best, but sit in the back to take it all in and be near the exits just in case something goes horribly wrong.

What can I say? A few things come to mind: "Blessed are the paranoid, for they shall inherit the earth (or what's left of it)." Or how about: "Not only is the glass half-empty, it's also trying to kill me." Or my personal (and original) favorite: "Nothing can be simple."

Like it or not, folks, I'm a pessimistic-idealist trying to lose the hyphen so as to simply become a realist who lives by faith. But, by golly, it's hard, so if I've offended you, driven you off, or just driven you crazy with my rants, raves, and otherwise unmerciful mumblings, forgive me...and pray for my wife.

Thanks for sticking it out here at Second Drafts. Hang with me for another year and we'll see where 2010 goes; after all, we're here and I'm wearing a bow tie, so we might as well make the most of it (just don't ask me to dance).

Have a happy New Year.

Kids (and Parents) These Days

Megan and I had a memorable evening Friday night that got us talking about some things that, well, we're not sure we're excited to be talking about. Maybe we're showing our age or our upbringing, but last night was an introspective evening for us in a lot of ways.

The cause of this introspection was Westminster's Christmas Banquet - a formal, end-of-semester dinner for which we were asked last-minute to serve as chaperones. Being the cheapskates we are, we were happy to get gussied up for four hours with 500 of our closest high school-age friends - the food at the Airport Hilton was decent, the service was good, and it was a nice way to officially kick off Christmas Break (even though I've STILL got grading to do this weekend to meet the Monday morning deadline).

Our first moment of introspection came as we dropped our four girls off at our pastor's house for the evening. Our daughters and their daughters (four also) are all roughly the same ages and absolutely love each other, so that wasn't the issue; what was different was Andrew and Lisa also had a Christmas party Friday evening, so the eight little ladies were going to be on their own for the night. As their oldest is 12 and our oldest is ten days from being 11, we were okay with this, but it was a bit surreal leaving the girls without adult supervision for four hours. It seemed we'd crossed a threshold of sorts, so we talked about it for the 15-minute drive to the hotel and decided that, indeed, we had.

When we showed up (early) for the banquet, we found our seats (in back), so we sat and talked about what we might expect this evening. Megan doesn't know many of my students as their paths don't really cross, so the evening was going to be a parade of nameless high schoolers for her; I, on the other hand, knew probably half of the students by name from class or the hallways, and was excited to see them in a different light, one which might give a hint into who they are and are becoming outside of my classroom.

Unfortunately, what I got was an eyeful of how little parents seem to care about their kids (especially their daughters).

With guys in tuxedos and girls in dresses, we expected to see a fair amount of awkwardness as the students adjusted to their fancy duds; what we didn't expect was the ridiculous amounts of make-up, skin, and cleavage we were bombarded with, nor the (short) leather skirts and (tall) stiletto heels that came with them. I couldn't count the number of times I saw girls having to pull up the tight tops of their low strapless dresses in an honest effort to keep themselves from walking right out of them.

The guys were awkward in their own way (one freshman actually wore his cumberbund up around his ribs all night and looked like a mover in one of those support belts to aid his bad back), but you can't tell me they didn't enjoy just sitting back and taking in everything that was about to fall out right before their eyes. I've never seen these guys smile as much as they did last night.

At the risk of sounding like a puritanical prude, the question that kept coming to my mind was "Where are the parents?" Oh, I forgot: they were busy planning the "after-party," the non-WCA-sponsored dance at another hotel where, from reports I always get from the kids the week after such events, is where the real party happens.

Apparently, in addition to providing the DJ and dance floor, these parents "supervise" the opportunity for high school students to "grind" on one another to their hearts' (among other bodily organs') content. I can't count the number of students who've asked me over the past three years if grinding is wrong - they bring it up every time we study (get this) the seventh commandment prohibiting adultery. When I tell them that, yes, grinding is wrong because it's basically "sex with clothes on," you wouldn't believe the pushback I get. You'd think I had accused Bill Clinton of having sex with Monica Lewinsky or something.

This - all this - made up the discussion Megan and I had on the drive back to pick up the girls. If we enroll the girls at WCA (or any school), do they accept a boy's invitation to be his date at a banquet. If they want to, sure, so long as she's dressed appropriately (that is, wearing clothes) and simply going to enjoy the evening with a friend who happens to be male. Do we let them go to "after parties"? A trickier question, but one we will hopefully attempt to answer with them by talking about all the realities in play. Decisions like these come down to clued-in parent involvement - both now and (for us, at least, before) - and I'd sure like to see more of this informed kind at WCA.

Granted, not every WCA student nor every WCA parent is suspect in this, and I could name plenty of students who were appropriately dressed at the banquet who probably didn't attend the after-party due to parental intervention. But as a current high school teacher and future high school parent, let me encourage anyone with kids to re-consider the fact that no one's going to parent your kids for you; frankly, God didn't give us the option when he gave them to us. Hear the words of Deuteronomy 6:5-7:

"You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise."

In other words, we are to parent according to our love for God and the words of his Scripture, and we are to parent as we (and they) go. There are no breaks; it's 24-7, baby, and we will be held accountable for every decision we make (or don't make) in training up our children in the way they should go. Might I humbly suggest that public cleavage and grinding have no place in this biblical equation? God help us all.

Life on Other Planets: Some Thoughts

A friend of mine and I sat through the movie Knowing the other night. While one of the worst movies I've watched in a while (incoherent plot, numerology silliness, Nicolas Cage once again playing Nicolas Cage), the film did serve one purpose: it got us talking about the idea of life on other planets.

Despite my X-Files affections, I tend to doubt that we have neighbors in the universe: other populated worlds aren't mentioned in the Bible, and most scientists say the odds against are just too huge otherwise. Maybe I'm your typical egocentric human, but when astronomer Carl Sagan said that if life didn't exist elsewhere in the universe it would be "an awful waste of space," I guess I feel kind of special.

At the same time, I recognize that just because the Bible doesn't record the existence of life on other planets doesn't mean there isn't. Remember: the Bible is a historical-redemptive narrative, not an all-encompassing science book. And speaking of science, there are plenty of scientists who do not share my doubts, running huge scientific initiatives and spending a boatload of money in hopes of making some kind of contact with other beings.

Despite my doubts, and certainly different from the typical evangelical Christian line, the argument for other life in the universe does seem plausible, if for no other reason than the very nature of God as Creator. But here's the question I think it all comes down to: The Scriptures attest to our fallen nature as created beings, but is that to mean all that is on the Earth or all that is in the entire universe?

The question is important because, while we have the account of God redeeming Earth through Christ, if there are indeed other beings in the universe and the universe is indeed fallen, then was there a plan of salvation for other planets as well? C.S. Lewis believed so, namely that when the Bible talks of "creation," it is in reference to the Earth and not necessarily the universe. From this perspective, the idea of other created beings without need of redemption is possible; we just don't have a record of it.

Thinking about all this is particularly interesting in light of mankind's desire to explore space. Theoretical physicist Stephen Hawking says that the only way humanity can survive is to figure out how to leave the planet; hence, the importance of the U.S. space program. This, of course, begs the question: If the Earth is the only fallen part of God's creation, what does our going out into a non-fallen universe mean? Does it matter? And what would it be like to meet other creation who are intact in their creation perfection?

This is what I understand Lewis' Space Trilogy to be about: man leaves Earth (called the Silent Planet, as it was cut off from the rest of the universe because of its evil), to colonize elsewhere in the universe (Perelandra) among beings not in need of redemption. These innocents, though not fallen themselves, are nevertheless affected by humans and Earth's evil before it is all finally resolved in the Siege of Deep Heaven against the Bent One of Earth. In other words, sinful Earthlings contaminated another part of space which, until their arrival, had not been so. Thankfully, however, good overcame evil.

I've always thought of and understood the Fall applying to all of God's universal creation; thus, I differ with Lewis' premise that creation perfection is alive and well outside the surly bonds of Earth. Having said that, however, if God so chose to redeem other inhabitants of his universal creation, I'm assuming he has both prerogative and means to accomplish his will. In my finite, self-centered self, it's just easier to think about me and Earth, especially since God gave us a record of all he has done for redemption here (not to mention that I have no plans or desire for leaving).

Still thinking on this, but I'll stop for now. Anyone have a more formed/informed thought?

All Must Be Well

My mom and I had lunch Saturday, as she was in town for a Mary Kay conference at the St. Louis Convention Center. I took her to Tigin, an Irish pub Megan and I had discovered as part of a mystery shop date a few months ago - cool place. I can't remember the last time I had a meal with my mom that didn't include Dad, Megan, or any combination of children, so we had a novel time catching up.

The conversation went a variety of directions, but one topic that came up was all the debt America is accruing and the impact of that on multiple generations. I've never known Mom to get upset by too many things political, but she had obviously spent some time thinking about the consequences for her children and grandchildren. She was concerned, she said, and spoke of how, the older she gets, the more realistic she's trying to be in adding to - rather than spending - our inheritance.

Thanking her for her thoughtfulness and honesty, I shared a little of my perspective (semi-transcribed versions here and here if you're interested) on the mess the government is making of the financial sector, as well as a little about the moral dilemmas (here, here, here, here, and here just to link a few) that will impact our nation's future in ways as significant as any financial crisis. The conversation could have turned into a real bummer had not we ended up agreeing there's really little hope for things apart from the grace of God. Simply put, it was a good and meaningful time.

Finishing lunch and dropping Mom off at the Convention Center for the rest of her conference, I made my way to Clayton for a wedding. My friend and teaching colleague, Abby Doriani, was due to get married at 2:00, but I underestimated the hassle the I-64 repair shutdown from Kingshighway to Hanley would be and realized I was going to be late. I finally made it to Clayton, found a parking place, and ran up to the church, figuring I missed Abby's procession, but would at least make it for the remainder of the ceremony and reception.

As I opened the front door to sneak in, I almost ran over Abby's dad, Dr. Dan Doriani, who was leading Abby and the bridesmaids up the stairs into the foyer before proceeding into the sanctuary. As I had Dr. Doriani for several classes at Covenant, I smiled and shook his hand, trying to be mindful of the fact that he probably had a lot on his mind and now might not be the best time for small talk. I waved to Abby, who looked beautiful in her wedding gown, and then I headed up the stairs to the sanctuary to find a seat.

At the top of the stairs, I saw Abby's mother, Debbie, and gave her a hug. Far from being a dreaded mother-of-the-bride, Debbie was all smiles, asked how I was, thanked me for coming to the wedding, and reassured me there were plenty of seats left, but I would have to go in after Abby and her dad did as the seating of grandparents had already started. She gave me a quick wave, then took her place at the door to the sanctuary and was escorted in by one of the ushers, followed by Abby's first two bridesmaids.

This left Abby, her dad, her two younger sisters (each of whom was a matron/maid of honor), and me standing in the foyer. Abby noticed me trying to blend into the wall so as not to intrude on the family moment, but as it obviously wasn't working, she humorously asked how I was enjoying my behind-the-scenes experience of her wedding. I laughed and said I was just taking notes. Her sisters each gave her a kiss and went in, and then it was Abby's turn to walk arm-in-arm with her dad through the doors to get married.

More than most, the wedding ceremony was a very warm reminder of how the God-given institution of marriage is (and is to be) a reflection of Christ's relationship with his bride, the Church. In his charge to the couple, Dr. Doriani spoke of the differences between romantic and divine love, but stressed the need for both in marriage. Vows were taken, the community affirmed them, and everyone rejoiced in the fact that two were becoming one before their very eyes. It was a beautiful thing, and afterward, we all went downstairs for cake and punch (another beautiful thing).

For me, the afternoon was an insightful one: in light of the good but sobering discussion with Mom at lunch, I needed the reassurance of Christ's relationship with his Church that a marriage ceremony can provide; despite the pressures of the day, I saw parents who didn't make their daughter's marriage all about them (or even about her), but about Christ's relationship with his Church; and, strangely for the first time, I imagined my own daughters getting married - each with her three sisters as bridesmaids - and prayed that their weddings would reflect Christ's relationship with his Church as well...even if there's little money to pay for them...or even less morality left in our culture to care.

This morning at church, we sang the following verse:

"We expect a bright tomorrow, all will be well
Faith can sing through days of sorrow, all is well
On our Father's love relying, Jesus every need supplying
Yes, in living or in dying, all must be well"

Because of Christ's relationship with his Church, all must be well...both in the now and the not yet. I needed that reminder, and I'm grateful to God for it this Lord's Day.

The Contentment Equation

I had a tough discussion with a student this week - tough not because of the student, but because of the student's family situation. Details aren't important for my purposes here, so I'll refrain from sharing any; suffice it to say, I wanted to help a lot more than I could. Leaving school, I prayed for the student, asking God to grant strength and maturity in handling parents who are both behaving badly.

As I was praying, I wondered when the last time the student had ever felt real and extended contentment in life. Was it within the past year? Doubtful - we've been processing the situation together since at least November. Any time during the teenage years? Possibly, but most of what the student is dealing with has been years in the making, and teenagers pick up on that stuff. When my student was in elementary school? I hope not (that would be a while ago). Even before then? Man.

I think about stuff like this a lot - not just with kids, but adults as well. My theory (and I'm just throwing it out here) is that the further a person has to go back to find real and extended contentment, the older they feel and seem to others. Granted, this idea may not be rocket science (and I'll grant that my definitions of "real" and "extended" are more than a bit fuzzy), but I wonder if a math-type could put together an equation to qualitatively test my hypothesis; all I've got is a gut feeling it's true.

As any good teacher asks a student for an answer to his own question, I tried to answer mine. When was the last period of real and extended contentment for me? When was the first? How many have there been in between? Most importantly (I think), how young (or old) does the accumulation or absence of these make me seem to others? I'll be honest: I feel (and have felt) pretty content for much of the past year, but has that been contentment or just happiness? What really marks a difference between the two?

A favorite passage on this topic is Paul's statement in Philippians 4:11-13:

"I have learned in whatever situation I am to be a content. 12 I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. 13 I can do all things through him who strengthens me."

God's promise in verse 13 is every Christian's favorite - that is, until they discover that being content is what God promises to strengthen us for (instead of just winning sport events or passing tests). For hermeneutical reasons, I stopped applying this verse to non-contentment kinds of things a long time ago, but I'm not sure how recent it's been since I picked it up again to apply it in the right way. I'm not sure I'm that brave.

With regard to my schizophrenic inquiries above, I'm still thinking through my answers; however, I'm as interested in whether the questions are even the right ones as well. What do you think of my equation (try this for starters: PA (perceived age) = AA (actual age) - C (contentment) / T (time))? How accurate does it seem in measuring your own experience? And what does it take for you to feel as well as talk about being content in your own life?

Who's the Daddy?

Well, the recession (when are we going to call it what it is: a depression?) has come to Westminster, but the news could be much worse. Our leadership has called for a salary freeze and put plans on hold regarding the new campus, but that's about it; no salary cuts, no lay-offs, and our enrollment numbers are still (somewhat surprisingly) strong.

I tend not to fret too much over things absolutely out of my control, so I didn't. However, I was glad to receive a teaching contract yesterday for next year (which I promptly signed and returned within five minutes of receiving). My joy is not so much in still having a job (though that's relieving), but more that the administration wants to keep me around another year (yes, I'm an affirmation junkie). Whew.

Megan, the girls, and I celebrated my newly-renewed employability with a rare trip to Hacienda (our favorite Mexican restaurant) last night. For reasons other than just the margarita, I was again reminded how good God is and has been to our family, and thanked him accordingly over chips and salsa. I want my girls to know that I am not the provider for our family; God the Father is.

I also prayed for those who have lost jobs or are trying to find them. It can't be easy right now, and my prayer is that even in the midst of uncertainty, God will meet needs through his sovereignty and his Church. I'm not sure if/when/how things are going to turn around (again, another thing completely out of my control), but God is neither surprised nor absent in the midst of our economic struggles. Pray with me for others, that they may see God's faithfulness in our world today as Old Testament Israel did then, as recorded in the Psalms:

"I have been young, and now am old,

yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken

or his children begging for bread."

Psalm 37:25

God is good...all the time.

38 Today

"Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter."

Mark Twain

I turn 38 today. While my mother may have a story or two from my childhood to the contrary, for as long as I can remember I've never really cared that much about my birthday. For some (and you know who you are), a birthday is (or should be) a national holiday, but even if mine were, I don't think I'd care (they usually don't officially set aside those days until after you're dead anyway). To me, it simply is what it is.

Thankfully, God, in His infinite wisdom and mercy, graciously granted me a daughter who shares my date of birth, which makes it easier to endure the fuss about the fact that we were born, as it's usually (blessedly) pointed in her direction instead of mine. Don't get me wrong: I'm glad to be alive and believe that every year - yea, every day - is a gift from God. But a birthday is like any other day for me. I just don't get the preoccupation.

I also don't get the fear of birthdays and what the accumulation of those birthdays represents. Our culture is so paranoid about growing older and puts so much into fighting (both physically and psychologically) the effects of aging that it's amazing we haven't collapsed into one giant heap of adolescence.

Children aren't taught to grow up to be adults in society; they're taught to grow up to be teenagers. Adults aren't embracing their position of elders in the world; they're fighting tooth and nail to get back to their glory days and not be viewed as old. (For more on this, read my post on Diana West's book, The Death of the Grown-Up.)

In case anyone's wondering, I have no plans to color the spreading amount of gray in my hair or trade out the beige Delta 88 Land Yacht I drive for a fiery red sports car. My goals do not include proving to myself or anyone else that I can still woo the ladies or that I can keep us up with the Joneses.

No, I'm content trying to act my age, even to the point of occasionally going beyond it in wisdom if/when God so enables. I'm more than happy trying to make better decisions about health, as opposed to merely ones made in pursuit of a more attractive body. I'm simply humbled trying to walk with God in a way that models love to my wife, children, and neighbors, rather than appearing religious and (self-)righteous.

So, I'm 38 today, and I'm glad to be so. I look forward to 40...to 50...to 60...all of it's gravy when you consider I don't deserve to live even a day, for "Surely I was sinful at birth, sinful from the time my mother conceived me" (Psalm 51:5). From this perspective, I can say with honesty and awe that it's good just to be alive, no matter how old I may be.

Relearning Diligence

Normally a prep period (and a really nice way to end the day), seventh hour in my classroom today played host to one of eleven experiments by our Bible department in which our seniors in Worldviews "taught" our eighth grade Bible students lessons stemming from the Proverbs.

The seniors (about 6 per group) were to create a 7-10 minute documentary-format video illustrating the principles of their assigned proverbial topic. Following the video, each of the seniors was to speak a few minutes from his or her own experience on the topic, and this was to be followed by a 15-minute Q&A time facilitated by the seniors and involving the eighth graders. (Over the course of the next few days, the teachers will process with the seniors while the eighth graders interact in a protected digital environment about what they learned, which will be monitored and "graded" by their teachers.)

As I have neither seniors nor eighth graders, I had little more to do with the initiative than serving as room facilitator and grader. My group had been assigned the topic of diligence to focus and teach on, and despite their tendency toward mouthfuls of imperative legalisms and telling rather than showing their point, they did a decent job with their presentation. Rarely have I seen seniors respect both the task and their younger audience as these students did, and the eighth graders were equally respectful and appreciative of the seniors' attempts to present and interact. It was a nice dynamic.

If there was anything concerning about the experience, it would be my group's seeming replacement of faithfulness with success as diligence's final result. This switcheroo is not unique to our seniors and I'm not meaning to blame them for it here; it is a pathology that plagues so many kids I teach at the freshman, sophomore, and junior levels, probably because it plagues their parents as well. It goes something like this:

diligence = good grades = college of choice = good job = happiness = success

Nearly every senior story followed this flow. The progression wasn't formally charted, but it was certainly assumed and accepted to be true. If I had to sum up what was taught in my classroom seventh hour, it would be that diligence always equals success, and that success will be what you want it to be, so get to work.

In other words, it's what you and I, in our "best" works-based faith, tell ourselves every day of our works-based lives. Who says kids today can't learn?

Granted, the proverbs can certainly be read with a very "name it-claim it" hermeneutic (an unfortunate Christian manifestation of our nation's American Dream religion), but we have to read it within the genre of wisdom literature which tends toward trajectories rather than guarantees. For instance, when we read a verse like Proverbs 10:4 which says, "A slack hand causes poverty, but the hand of the diligent makes rich," we have to understand that just because we avoid sloth does not automatically ensure wealth. Sure, one has a better chance at financial success by working rather than vegging, but that trail is a trajectory, not a guarantee.

After all, life happens; so does God, and God's idea of "success" often (though not always) has more to do with faithfulness than finances (see Psalm 73 for more on this). How do we explain when one works hard but doesn't make it into the college of his choice? How does our theology make sense when one is diligent and doesn't succeed at the level he or she expected to?

Generally speaking, diligence in the Scriptures tends to look and feel a lot more like perseverance than success. Indeed, God in his gracious goodness as a Father tends to bless diligence (Proverbs says so), but that doesn't give us the right to demand such blessing or to remind God of His part in our equation. God owes us nothing and is debtor to no man; we would do well to remember and live by this if we are to walk with Him on His terms. We'd be more humble and grateful people in doing so.

So, we as teachers have some work to do - not only in our students but also in our parents, certainly within the Church and, if we're honest, probably within ourselves. Indeed, we should be diligent because the Scriptures tell us to be so, but let's not be surprised by how God might respond, rather than demand He do what we think He should to keep up His end of the deal. Who becomes God then?

(Note: For more on how parental pressure and material advantage are creating a generation of disconnected and unhappy kids, read The Price of Privilege by Madeline Levine. Accurate and thought-provoking.)

Wendell Berry for Secretary of Agriculture

I don't know if anyone caught it in the midst of all the tomfoolery going on across our political system of late, but Wendell Berry penned an Op-Ed piece in Sunday's New York Times that's more worthy of reading than what Barack Obama thinks about our economy or what Roland Burris thinks about himself.

Along with a guy named Wes Jackson (plant geneticist and president of The Land Institute in Salina, KS), Berry (former professor at the University of Kentucky, farmer, and writer in Port Royal, KY), attempts to draw attention away from the headlines of the day to some realities that have been in place at least as far as the Dust Bowl days of the 1930s: that is, the loss of land at the hands of man. They write:

"Soil that is used and abused...is as nonrenewable as (and far more valuable than) oil. Unlike oil, it has no technological substitute — and no powerful friends in the halls of government."

My father owns and farms 600 acres of land and was Illinois' Soil and Water Conservation Farmer of the Year in 1995. Dad has often said a similar thing for as long as I can remember; his version, however, cuts to the chase with regard to God's green earth:

"They're not making any more of it."

Indeed, "they're" not, nor does it seem "they" have considered what will happen if/when we run out of good soil. According to Jackson and Berry, history gives us a clue:

"Civilizations have destroyed themselves by destroying their farmland. This irremediable loss, never enough noticed, has been made worse by the huge monocultures and continuous soil-exposure of the agriculture we now practice."

So who's to blame? Is it city folk who have no clue from where or how food shows up on their grocery store shelves? Perhaps, but it's unfair to lay all the blame on those who live in urban areas, especially when a majority of them don't know what they don't know about agriculture as a result of the urban migration of multiple generations during the past 60 years. Granted, I might recommend a field trip to a local family farm, but that suggestion becomes problematic in that there are so few family farms around to visit anymore.

Unfortunately, either out of financial desperation or personal preference, rural folk have bought into globalization's philosophy that bigger is better by consolidating small family farms into giant corporate ones, exploding the scale of agribusiness and exploiting land and livestock to do it; they've chanted industrialization's mantra that faster is cheaper, developing technology and pushing practices that almost seem to farm for them rather than require one to actually be a farmer.

So what? Aren't we growing food in a petri dish already? Perhaps, but who owns the petri dishes (and who gets to decide what grows in them - and how)? Say Jackson and Berry:

"Industrial agricultural...by substituting technological 'solutions' for human work and care, has virtually destroyed the cultures of husbandry (imperfect as they may have been) once indigenous to family farms and farming neighborhoods. Clearly, our present ways of agriculture are not sustainable, and so our food supply is not sustainable. We must restore ecological health to our agricultural landscapes, as well as economic and cultural stability to our rural communities."

We're in the middle (though some would say we haven't hit bottom yet) of a financial recession and crisis here in America, and indeed, the negative effects of incredibly unethical business practices continue to ripple out and affect millions on a daily basis. But it's one thing to be stuck in a stagnant economy with food on the shelves; it would be quite another to be in the same (or even a better) situation without something to eat.

"For 50 or 60 years, we have let ourselves believe that as long as we have money we will have food. That is a mistake. If we continue our offenses against the land and the labor by which we are fed, the food supply will decline, and we will have a problem far more complex than the failure of our paper economy. The government will bring forth no food by providing hundreds of billons of dollars to the agribusiness corporations."

I'm not one to advocate throwing money at problems, and the past few months have been incredibly difficult to stomach with everyone and their dog asking for a handout. But if our government continues doling out dinero and spending money like we've got it, then I'd encourage us to heed what Jackson and Berry call for, namely "a 50-year farm bill that addresses forthrightly the problems of soil loss and degradation, toxic pollution, fossil-fuel dependency and the destruction of rural communities." If nothing else, taking a longer-term approach on this issue at least seems biblical (numerically speaking, that is).

Until then, be sure to save those newspapers and magazines full of financial and constitutional crises, and hold on to those expired grocery coupons and circulars. The way things are going, we may need to eat them later.

Not Even Jack Bauer Can Get Us Out of This One

Powerful episode of 24 Sunday night. "Redemption" caught us up with illegal expatriate Jack Bauer (played by Keifer Sutherland) coming to the aid of African children kidnapped to be made into child soldiers under a would-be dictator.

As always, the show's story was straight out of news headlines, even including a presidential transfer of power in Washington, with the only major detail missed being the casting of the new President as a woman instead of a black man (apologies to both Senators Clinton and Obama). In a word, the episode was heartbreaking, as the use of thousands of child soldiers is going on in at least 17 different countries today.

For the past two years, Westminster has been involved with an organization called Invisible Children, whose Schools for Schools initiative exists "to creatively raise money for the schools of northern Uganda, improving the quality of education for war-affected students." So far this fall, the WCA student body has raised over $15,000 (mostly in spare change) to help the same secondary school in Gulu that we helped last year, ranking us first in the country of all participating U.S. schools with less than a month to go of the 100-day window.

While I'm not a big fan of the competitive giving strategy utilized by the organization (and enabled by Westminster), I was glad that one WCA student, as well as my friend and teaching colleague, Ann Heyse, "won" the opportunity to represent our school in Gulu this past summer. Ann spent six weeks with Invisible Children, training teachers and teaching students with her expertise in English, and based on both her personal testimony and her excellently-written blog documenting her experience, it seems the organization does good work in a place that needs much good work done.

Last night, as I watched the two-hour teaser that creatively gets Jack Bauer back to the United States for the show's seventh full season beginning in January, I found myself overwhelmed by the realism of it all...that is until one particular commercial break when there was a quick screen shot for the Human Rights Watch website, followed immediately by a national Pizza Hut commercial, and then a local ad for St. Louis' very own Casino Queen ("home of the loosest slots"). Whew. Assuagement by advertising.

What an incredibly confusing postmodern culture we have created, one in which almost every aspect of life is separated from any true and meaningful meta-narrative. How strange to go from African children dying to ordering two-for-one pizzas to having a great time gambling, all in the course of 60 seconds. And yet for those of us who have been breathing this postmodern air our entire lives, the progression doesn't seem strange at all; it is exactly what we have come to expect (at least, that is, before God's revelatory red pill of the gospel allows us to see power, gluttony, and greed for what they really are).

We live in a broken world, friends. Whether in Africa or America, ours is both a needy place and time to be alive, and not even Jack Bauer can get us out of this one.

Walking the Line Between Loss and Hope

You may not know it (I didn't), but on July 27th of 2005, Congress proclaimed October 15th Stillbirth Remembrance Day, also sometimes called Stillbirth and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. Though you might not know it, today is a hard day for many.

It may sound like a gigantic exaggeration, but almost every couple Megan and I know has experienced the pain of losing a child through miscarriage or stillbirth. Almost every one. Several have lost multiple babies interspersed between having multiple healthy ones; others are still trying to have their first after losing those once conceived.

For whatever reason, we have never experienced this kind of loss. We've had some scary moments - our first-born had serious surgery when she was four after a lung collapsed because of pneumonia; our third-born came out blue from having the cord wrapped around her neck during the end of her delivery - but we've never lost a child through miscarriage, stillborn birth, or SIDS. This, of course, has nothing to do with us, just as losing a child has nothing to do with those parents who have.

Though I use the language because it's familiar in our vernacular, I'm no fan of the phrase "losing a child" or of the word "miscarriage," as both imply blame that is wrongly placed on expectant parents. The idea that a pregnant woman has "lost" or "miscarried" a baby implies she once had total and complete power to keep and carry it to term. Which of our female friends misused that power during her pregnancy? None. Which of our male friends was party to such misuse? Not one.

For those who want to cast blame, our biology - or more accurately, our fallen biology - is the culprit, not God. God does not cause loss; God restores. God is not evil; God is good. For those who have recently lost a child or are still struggling with pain from years ago, Romans 8:28 (despite the cheeseball greeting cards misapplying the verse to any and every audience) offers hope to soothe heartache:

"And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose."

The Scriptures tell us that even in the loss of a child, God somehow brings good out of the worst of pain; even when he is often blamed for it, he is at work redeeming these most heart-breaking experiences brought on by the sin of our representative parents, Adam and Eve. We lose our children because we lost our true humanity; each of us is fallen from the glory of perfection in which our parents were first made.

My friend and ethics co-teacher, Larry Hughes, and his wife lost their second child to stillbirth. They named him Sean and had a memorial service in his honor. This morning, I asked Larry what his thoughts were on that day and how he processed the grief he and Nancy felt years ago. He said this:

"To my mind, a key Scripture passage is David’s response when Bathsheba loses their child in 2 Samuel 12. Because of David’s many psalms reflecting his belief of being with God always, I think the response '…he went into the house of the Lord and worshiped…I will go to him, but he will not return to me' is encouraging not only theologically but personally. I think and believe that this, when coupled with the character of God, reassures those who lose their children in childbirth, SIDS, abortions, or in whatever way, that God does indeed take those on to Glory."

David speaks of going to his son in heaven, but recognizes his son will not return to him on earth. He resigns himself to this reality (as evidenced later in chapter 12), but not before having resigned himself to the hope of reunion with his child. The Scripture is a bittersweet but beautiful passage of promise, one that records both David's loss as well as his hope.

Many couples we know have gone through this same double-resignation. Our role as those who support believing parents in their grief should not be to rush them through the pursuit of the second (resigning themselves to the fact), nor to question the legitimacy of the first (resigning themselves to hope of a reunion). It's a fine line to walk, but maybe there's a couple who needs you to try with them today.

Bailing on the Bailout

I haven't written too much about the current financial crisis/bailout/circus of late, partly because I'm still trying to figure it all out, and partly because I've written before about the problem of big government handling anything. While I love being right, I hate being redundant.

I was not in favor of a bailout, yet assumed it was going to pass, only to be somewhat surprised it didn't (at least as of Monday). My mentality and situation mirror those of my friend, Clay, with whom I've exchanged an email or two about all this. He writes:

"I don't have a lot of capital in this game, so I can be pretty free and easy with my opinions. I could be labeled a constrained visionist (a la Sowell) and have a core belief, a faith, that the free market system (process belief) is better able to sort this out than Hank and Ben (unconstrained, result-oriented action).  If I have to bet my (lack of) wealth on anything, I'll take the market over Bush any time."

I've always thought of myself as a free-market guy, too, though Robert T. Miller's A Conservative Case for the Paulson Plan gave me pause to think on it a few days back:

"Are you an economic conservative who thinks that the government should intervene in the market only when markets fail and it is efficient for the government to act? Then you should support the bailout plan because what we are seeing in the credit markets is probably the most serious market failure that will occur in our lifetimes. Are you an economic conservative who thinks the government spends too much and the national debt is too high? Then you should support the bailout plan because the government will likely make money in the long run and so reduce the deficit. The intelligent conservative position here is to support the bailout."

Then this morning, I confess I almost drank the bailout Kool-Aid when my usual voice-of-reason hero, New York Times columnist David Brooks, criticized the Congress as being leaderless in their "no" decision regarding the proposed bailout:

"This generation of political leaders...have failed utterly and catastrophically to project any sense of authority, to give the world any reason to believe that this country is being governed. Instead, by rejecting the rescue package on Monday, they have made the psychological climate much worse....The only thing now is to try again - to rescue the rescue. There’s no time to find a brand-new package, so the Congressional plan should go up for another vote on Thursday, this time with additions that would change its political prospects."

Hmmm. Later this afternoon, however, I came across Jeffrey Miron, senior lecturer in economics at Harvard and one of 166 academic economists who signed a letter to congressional leaders last week opposing the bailout plan. In a special to CNN, he wrote a commentary titled "Bankruptcy, not bailout, is the right answer," saying:

"The obvious alternative to a bailout is letting troubled financial institutions declare bankruptcy. Bankruptcy means that shareholders typically get wiped out and the creditors own the company. Bankruptcy does not mean the company disappears; it is just owned by someone new (as has occurred with several airlines). Bankruptcy punishes those who took excessive risks while preserving those aspects of a businesses that remain profitable."

At the end of the piece, Miron gets practical as to where we go from here:

"So what should the government do? Eliminate those policies that generated the current mess. This means, at a general level, abandoning the goal of home ownership independent of ability to pay. This means, in particular, getting rid of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, along with policies like the Community Reinvestment Act that pressure banks into subprime lending...The right view of the financial mess is that an enormous fraction of subprime lending should never have occurred in the first place. Someone has to pay for that. That someone should not be, and does not need to be, the U.S. taxpayer."

That resonated with my gut sense. Why bail out a bad system? This again from Clay:

"All I know with respect to handing this Administration vast discretionary power over something of immense national importance is, 'Once bitten, twice shy...' The market abuses that went on came from a lack of information and transparency and a lack of timely-targeted regulation to mitigate the worst of unregenerate human nature."

In other words, we have met the enemy, and the enemy is us - now that's a concept I get (and a biblical one, too). True, the system was bad, but who created the system? Government leaders pandering to a constituency demanding cheap loans with little to no accountability.

I remember reading an intriguing book a few years ago by Jane Jacobs called Dark Age Ahead. Jacobs, an urbanist, argued that North American civilization showed signs of spiral decline comparable to the collapse of the Roman empire. Her thesis focused on “five pillars of our culture that we depend on to stand firm" (see the last one especially):

• the nuclear family
• education
• science
• representational government and taxes
• corporate and professional accountability

What do you think? Have we officially arrived at Jacobs' "dark age" in America? Are you for or against a government bailout?

From my perspective, It's time to own our mistakes and, while it might will be hard, reap what we've sown in the way we've handled our economy; God, after all, will not be mocked (Galatians 6:7-8). What say you and why?

How We Know What We Know

I've been reading some really good stuff of late on epistemology (that is, "how we know what we know"). With regard to truth, most people feel the pull of the Enlightenment's demand for proof, as well as postmodernism's questioning that truth can even exist. Many people (kids especially) feel caught in the middle between what they assume are their only too options - objectivity or subjectivity; that is, truth must either meet the requirements of science or it's time to check one's brain at the door in the name of faith.

What most folks fail to understand is that the supposed objective knowledge of science that they take for granted is really little different from the presumed subjective testimony of religion that they hold as suspect. Most helpful in thinking through this are some thoughts from the second chapter of A Biblical History of Israel by Iain Provan, V. Philips Long, and Tremper Longman, entitled "Knowing and Believing: Faith in the Past." They write:

"A general tendency in modern times...has been to downplay the importance of testimony about the past which has come down to us via a chain of human carriers of tradition, and in contrast, to emphasize the importance of empirical research in leading us into knowledge." (p. 36)

But:

"That the universe as a whole is rational and intelligible is a presupposition, not a scientific finding. Clearly, too, science of itself cannot properly tell us what to do with its findings. The ends to which science provides the means must be (and always are) chosen according to what is believed and valued by the people doing the choosing, which is a matter of religion, ethics, and politics, not a matter of science as such." (p. 39)

In other words, what we have received and pass on as science today is made up over time of just as much subjective interpretation as any religious oral tradition passed down. They continue, this time focusing more on historical studies:

"We are, in short, intellectually reliant upon what others tell us when it comes to what we call knowledge...As R.G. Collingwood once put it (albeit only to take issue with the statement), 'history is...the believing of someone else when he says that he remembers something. The believer is the historian; the person believed is called his authority." (p. 45-46)

Here's a good illustration of the idea involving the science (and art) of archaeology:

"Archaeological remains (when this phrase is taken to exclude written testimony from the past) are of themselves mute. They do not speak for themselves, they have no story to tell and no truth to communicate. It is archaeologists who speak about them, testifying to what they have found and placing the finds within an interpretive framework that bestows upon them meaning and significance." (p. 46)

"All knowledge of the past is in fact more accurately described as faith in the interpretion of the past offered by others, through which we make these interpretations (in part of as a whole) our own)...Modern historians, like their precursors, in fact depend on testimony, interpret the past, and possess just as much faith as their precursors, whether religious or not." (p. 49-50)

In sum, the idea that anything is "objective" - as if we could somehow sit in grandstands orbitting Earth and merely take notes - is a delusion. We cannot observe and pass on meaning (scientific, religious) without using subjective testimony to describe it. We are in the petri dish; we are not absent from it. The question then becomes, what testimony (again, scientific, religious - it doesn't matter) best explains reality, and what seems reasonable as truth?

Review: The Dark Knight

As it's rare for me to see a movie in the theater within a week of its opening, I thought I'd celebrate the occasion by posting some actual thoughts here on The Dark Knight. For the sake of not spoiling things, I'll try to refrain from plot details and instead focus on some of the mental gymnastics it takes to follow the movie.

This is a very complex film - the most of any superhero movie to date. A lot of folks raved about the emotional depth of the Spider-Man movies, but The Dark Knight asks questions that go far beyond Peter Parker's personal struggle in figuring out his responsibility to his power; as other reviewers have noted, The Dark Knight is a morality play that poses huge questions about the nature of humanity and asks the audience to share responsibility in answering them.

The dominant perspective is the Joker's. While Heath Ledger's performance is indeed intoxicating, what I think audiences are really responding to is Ledger's portrayal of the Joker's horrifying authenticity in living so consistently by his belief that anarchy is the only logical response to a world that does not make sense:

"Do I really look like a man with a plan, Harvey? I don't have a plan. The mob has plans, the cops have plans. You know what I am, Harvey? I'm a dog chasing cars. I wouldn't know what to do if I caught one. I just do things. I'm a wrench in the gears. I hate plans. Yours, theirs, everyone's. Maroni has plans. Gordon has plans. Schemers trying to control their worlds. I am not a schemer. I show schemers how pathetic their attempts to control things really are...Introduce a little anarchy, you upset the established order, and everything becomes chaos. I am an agent of chaos. And you know the thing about chaos, Harvey? It's fair."*

The exception to the chaos, of course, is Batman (Christian Bale), who, though flawed, manages to make choices that go against his human nature. Still, Bruce Wayne (Batman's alter ego) wants out of the Batman business, as it seems the cause of - rather than the solution to - the problem of freaks like the Joker coming out of the woodwork. Eventually, Wayne comes to understand (with the help of Alfred and others) that a flawed Batman is better than no Batman at all, but it takes some time (and a little melodrama at the end) to reach that conclusion:

"Bruce: People are dying, Alfred. What would you have me do? 
Alfred: Endure, Master Wayne. Take it. He'll hate you for it. But that's the point of Batman, he can be the outcast. He can make the choice that no one else can make, the righteous. 
Bruce: Well today I found out what Batman can't do. He can't endure this. Today you finally get to say 'I told you so.' 
Alfred: Today, sir, I don't want to."*

Serving as a composite of sorts of the Joker and Batman is Aaron Eckhart's Harvey Dent, Gotham City's new District Attorney. Not much has been made of Eckhart's role in the film, but his seems the key to understanding the movie, particularly at the end after he becomes the coin-flipping, fate-tempting Two-Face. Up to that point, Dent represents an unblemished hope of law and order for Gotham City citizens ("a white knight" of justice as opposed to Batman's "dark knight" of vigilantism); however, between tragedy and timely coaching - both at the hands of the Joker - Dent resorts to playing the blame game with fate:

"You (Commissioner Gordon) thought we could be decent men in an indecent world. But you were wrong; the world is cruel, and the only morality in a cruel world is chance."*

In many ways (and without trying to overanalyze things too much), The Dark Knight looks at the world through three lenses: the anarchy of the Joker (frightening in its degradation); the fatalism of Two-Face (depressing in its meaninglessness); and the brokenness of Batman (frustrating in its reality). One of these is how most of us tend to live life, and The Dark Knight provides an intriguing look at where and how these paths diverge and - when played out to their logical extremes - eventually end up. The question left for the audience to answer is, of course, which to choose?

(*Quotes from Internet Movie Database)

Other observations:

• Christopher Nolan's direction is seamless, well-paced, and engaging; you forget you're watching a movie.


• Gary Oldman as Jim Gordon, Michael Caine as Alfred, and Morgan Freeman as Lucius Fox are always easy to watch; they bring acting credibility and great presence to the big screen.


• Maggie Gyllenhaal is an improvement over Katie Holmes in the role of Rachel Dawes; the role itself, however, comes off more inspiring to the motivation of the romantically-involved characters (Wayne, Dent) than it really should be, which doesn't ring as true as the rest of the film.


• I don't think it's just because I've spent time there, but using Chicago as Gotham City was really distracting; Gotham City needs a darker, more New York kind of feel.


• The lack of dependence on CGI for many of the action scenes and stunts was refreshing and made the movie more realistic; there was really only one scene (the extraction in Hong Kong) that I felt required too much suspension of belief.


• Though I always liked (a lot) the arrangements of the original Batman movie soundtrack by Danny Elfman, Hans Zimmer builds good suspense at just the right times; plus, I love the rich, bold sound of the trombones in his theme swells.


• Overall the movie (2-1/2 hours) feels just a little long, but I'm not sure what I'd cut; it takes that kind of time to tell this kind of story.

For those who've seen it, what would you add/delete/change?

Summer Seminar

Beginning Monday, I'm out of town for the next two weeks as one of seven staff taking 28 soon-to-be-seniors on Westminster's Summer Seminar to South Dakota. Though I hate being away from Megan and the girls that long, I'm looking forward to the trip. Here's the official write-up:

"The Summer Seminar in Liberal Arts is an interdisciplinary course designed to stimulate physical, intellectual, and spiritual growth. Over a 12-day trip through the Badlands and Black Hills of South Dakota, students will explore the theme of “shalom” (restoration) through three, two-day course cores in literature, ethics, and science.

The focus of the course is the development of a biblical understanding of 'shalom' (restoration) as finite creatures living the reality of the Gospel in community with each other and the whole of creation. Students will interact with a variety of literary selections and participate in a three-day bike tour, selected day hikes, and a two-day float trip down the Cheyenne River.

The Summer Seminar is not designed to be an 'adventure' course. While the physical activities will be demanding, the seminar is an attempt to integrate reflection, aesthetic appreciation, and the life of the mind in the formation of a Christian understanding of the world. Ideally, each student would complete the seminar having integrated the Creator’s imprint in nature, community and the liberal arts into his or her understanding of restoration. Students may take the course for a one-semester elective credit."

Parts of the itinerary I'm most looking forward to are:

• being at Wounded Knee (I've been reading this book all week for some good background)


• seeing the Black Hills and Badlands (including Mt. Rushmore, though I'm not feeling all that patriotic after reading how our government treated the Indians in acquiring land)


• meeting and talking with Dan O'Brien, author of Buffalo for the Broken Heart, about his vision for bringing buffalo back to the West (we also share publishers)


• biking almost 100 miles in three days on the Mickelson Trail (I went on my first ride in years this past Friday and rocked it - that is, I didn't die)


• hiking around Devil's Tower in Wyoming (and humming John Williams' famous five-note greeting from Close Encounters of the Third Kind)


• kayaking on the Cheyenne River (though the water is really shallow and muddy)


• finishing up the trip with a nice night at Firesteel Creek Lodge (former Cardinals pitcher Todd Worrell is the owner and a Westminster dad)


• and, of course, camping out for ten days and spending 30-40 hours in a van with high schoolers (at least none of them get to drive)

Unless I find some free wi-fi (and some spare time), I doubt there'll be much action here on the blog over the next couple of weeks. In the interim, if you happen to land here and think of us, pray for safety and meaning on the trip, as well as that Megan and the girls will be okay while I'm gone (don't worry - they've got plans).

Happy trails.

The Heart of the Matter

As the comments keep multiplying on my previous post on gay marriage, I thought it best to condense some of the discussion to get at what seems to be the heart of the matter. I've enjoyed hearing from each of you (many of you are apparently new readers - welcome), and I've entered into a conversation or two on your own blogs as well (click here for a good discussion Paperdreamer and I have been having on ethics and morals).

I've gone through all the previous comments (at least the first twenty) and pulled some quotes (hopefully within context) to which to respond. As I think most of you will concur, the issue of gay marriage is ultimately not one of legality or even of morality; the issue is ultimately one of who has the final say in the area of our sexuality (and everything else). For instance:

Vitaminbook: "I’m taking it as a given that nonconsensual romantic or sexual relationships should be illegal...children would be in a position to be exploited by this kind of thing even if it was legal....what marriage is defined as has nothing to do with why most people would agree that adult/child relationships are harmful."

The questions here are where is the "given" coming from, and why would "most people" agree? The statement implies some kind of outside source (I would say the Christian God) who has already determined right and wrong; we, then, are simply deciding if we agree or disagree with his determination. The fact that we want to break the law - any law - is not a hetero- or homosexual issue; it's a human one. We all have the two-year-old syndrome: that is, we want what we want, regardless of sexual orientation.

Vitaminbook: "Those who are against gay marriage seem to think that it will open the floodgates for legalized adult/child relationships, but I don’t think that’s being realistic - it’s like saying that legalizing voluntary euthanasia would open the floodgates to legalized, free-for-all murder."

Given what humankind's history shows us, we'd be hard-pressed to say it wouldn't. I'm not trying to blow this point out of proportion, but am simply trying to make the connection that, just as our view of human life/death affects our tendency to respect/take it, so, too, does our view of the purpose for human sexuality affect our perspective in partaking in it.

If our sexuality is removed from God's intended context of the monogamous man/woman marriage, intimacy has no God-prescribed commitment to cement (which, biblically speaking, is a main purpose of our sexuality). With this as a reality, we will then experiment and walk down some seriously repulsive roads in our search for "satisfaction."

Vitaminbook: "For the record, I actually do think that people should be allowed to be racist or anti-homosexual if they want."

On the basis of our shared humanity and the imago dei (image of God) within each of us, I would disagree with this statement completely. I don't need or want to be "anti-" anyone in order to walk with God and love others.

Escapethedrain: "You and others are commenting on how much marriage is sacred and should be protected (from homosexuals). How sacred is this marriage you speak of when we have the highest divorce rate in the world? (talking the U.S. in general)?"

The question is what makes marriage (or anything) "sacred"? I do not come from the perspective that, because my wife and I have been married for almost twelve years, we are the ones who have made and kept our marriage sacred. The Scriptures teach that God makes marriage between a man and a woman sacred; we have just entered into the sanctity of what God has done. Marriage was God's idea from the beginning (Genesis 2), and a government document merely recognizes and protects that sanctity; it does not create or power it.

Paperdreamer: "Homosexual marriage is a valid desire, legally and socially...[still] I will say that it is against nature to be homosexual."

These two statements can only exist in the same sentence if one believes man is an animal who cannot control himself; in other words, homosexuality must be an evolutionary mistake (after all, gay men or lesbian women cannot reproduce, so this cannot be any kind of helpful natural selection), but since we're nothing more than animals anyway, so be it (the caveat here is usually "as long as they don't harm anyone else" - then there needs to be limits).

If any of us were asked if there is anyone in the world right now doing things we believe they should stop doing no matter what they personally believe about the correctness of their behavior, we would all say, "Yes, of course." Doesn't this mean that we do believe there is some kind of moral reality that is "there" that is not defined by us, that must be abided by regardless of what a person feels or thinks? If we're honest, I think we would say we do.

Lwayswright: "It is an often confusing topic because there are so many things in life nowadays that people are 'born with a predisposition to.' Where do you draw the line between predisposition and responsibility or lifestyle choice?"

I believe that the cause of homosexuality is as much nature as nurture. By this, I mean that all of us in our nature are fallen and broken sexually, regardless of whether we think of ourselves as being of hetero- or homosexual orientation. Regardless how the lines of brokenness fall, they have fallen on all of us; just as someone who may deal with homosexual tendencies and temptations, I as a heterosexual man deal with my own tendencies and temptations as well.

Thankfully, God woos us out of the sexual brokenness of our fallen humanity. We can embrace the exchange of Christ's life of perfection for our life of sin, and respond in obedience to his love out of a heart of gratitude for what he has done. Indeed, the Christian God is a god of performance; the good news is Christ performed in our place.

All that to say (and as with all of life), how you and I view gay marriage has everything to do with how we view freedom, which has everything to do with how we view morals, which has everything to do with how we view ethics, which has everything to do with how we view the source of our ethics, which has everything to do with whether we think of the final authority as ourselves (in the form of government, philosophy, or good old-fashioned preference) or God.

Thoughts?

On Gay Marriage

In light of the activist action of California's Supreme Court late last week, here are some things to keep in mind with regard to the question of homosexuality and gay marriage:

• According to a 2005 study by The Kinsey Institute, 90% of men aged 18-44 considered themselves to be heterosexual, 2.3% as homosexual, 1.8% as bisexual, and 3.9% as "something else." The numbers are almost identical for women. It's amazing how powerful a lobby the homosexual community has for being less than 7% of the population.


• Joseph Nicolosi's research in the late-90's on reorientation therapy's effectiveness has not been refuted. In fact, Robert Spitzer, who argued in 1973 that homosexuality is not a clinical disorder, wrote in 2001: "Contrary to conventional wisdom, some highly motivated individuals, using a variety of change efforts, can make substantial change in multiple indicators of sexual orientation, and achieve good hetero-sexual functioning."


• Homosexuality is not the worst of sins, but neither is it merely a "non-ideal, lesser of two evils" sin. Contrary to what more doctrinally-liberal churches teach, homosexual relationships are not God-given, nor is the story of Sodom and Gomorrah in Genesis 18 and 19 merely an example of God's wrath being poured out in response to the sin of inhospitality.


• Apart from Scripture (which is quite clear in both Old AND New Testaments that homosexuality is not God's model for marriage), there are some very compelling secular arguments against the cultural endorsement of homosexual behavior. Robert A.J. Gagnon, Associate Professor of New Testament at Pittsburgh Theological Seminary, has written as much as anybody on the topic and offers six helpful points here.

Considering where things stand, a defining federal Constitutional ammendment may indeed be necessary if traditional marriage is to be legally preserved in the United States. As much as I hate the idea of trying to legislate morality, I honestly wonder if the nation understands (or could ultimately survive) what's at stake by not doing so.

National Day of Prayer

Today is the National Day of Prayer. What would you pray for our nation and world?

Totally Illogical

"Spock is a main character in the original Star Trek TV series, and one of the most enduring characters from American 1960s television. He is the only alien in the permanent cast: half-Vulcan, half-Human, and serves as the science officer and executive officer of the USS Enterprise, under Captain James T. Kirk. His personal struggle between the Vulcan logical self and his human emotional self is the centerpiece of the character and created some evocative drama." (Wikipedia)

My 9-year-old was to complete a pre-writing assignment for a little half-page paper about a member of her family. She chose to write about me. One of the prompt questions was, "What facial expression is most common for the person?" My daughter's answer: "His face is mostly straight." She did elaborate, though: "He sometimes uses his hands to explain better."

I've gotten the whole "Stoic/Spock" thing from others over the years, but it was so strange to read my child's words describing the phenomenon. Granted, I've never had a very expressive face, which was always a problem when I did summer theater during my high school years (I was a lousy actor), but it's weird to be perceived by others (especially family) as so seemingly unemotional. I just don't think of myself that way.

A month ago, as part of an attempt to continue to learn how my students see me, I asked them to draw me from their perspective (you should have seen some of the drawings), as well as to write down five honest words to describe me. While there were twice the number of positives to negatives (a good thing), the adjectives that surprised me the most were along the lines of the unemotional: "boring," "dull," "monotone," "passionless," and "zone out to la-la land."

Monotone? Passionless? Really?

Part of the challenge (at least with my students) is my dry sense of humor, which few freshmen get the first time; part of it is my INTJ strategist/scientist/mastermind personality type, which I supposedly share with such "notable" figures (among others) as Ayn Rand, William F. Buckley, Isaac Asimov, John Maynard Keynes, Susan B. Anthony, Peter the Great, and Friedrich Nietzsche. Wouldn't we throw a party you'd just love to miss?

Which brings me back to a question I've wrestled with for years: When the Scriptures talk about a glad heart making a cheerful face (Proverbs 15:13), what if you just don't have a face that is all that good a conductor of joy...or, apparently, anything else?

The Ideology of Rationality

Susan Jacoby's name has been floating around several sites I frequent and enjoy, so I thought I'd read up a little on why. Jacoby is a former education reporter for The Washington Post, now an author whose new book, The Age of American Unreason, comes out in a couple of weeks (she wrote Freethinkers: A History of American Secularism in 2004).

Earlier this week, Jacoby wrote an op-ed piece in The Post titled, "The Dumbing of America: Call Me a Snob, But Really We're a Nation of Dunces. Her thesis is fairly straightforward:

"Americans are in serious intellectual trouble -- in danger of losing our hard-won cultural capital to a virulent mixture of anti-intellectualism, anti-rationalism and low expectations."

In familiar fashion, Jacoby first blames our educational failures on the usual suspects of the shrinking attention span (TV, video games, Internet, et. al.), as well as "the erosion of general knowledge" by calling up the ever-present specter of American centrism. Her arguments are all fine and good (if not a bit rehashed), but she then names the third enemy in the war against (her own) terror: anti-rationalism. She writes:

"There is no quick cure for this epidemic of arrogant anti-rationalism and anti-intellectualism; rote efforts to raise standardized test scores by stuffing students with specific answers to specific questions on specific tests will not do the job. Moreover, the people who exemplify the problem are usually oblivious to it...It is past time for a serious national discussion about whether, as a nation, we truly value intellect and rationality. If this indeed turns out to be a 'change election,' the low level of discourse in a country with a mind taught to aim at low objects ought to be the first item on the change agenda."

Laura Miller, in a much too-long review of Jacoby's book for Salon, sees (eventually) Jacoby's attempt for what it is:

"Rationality has its own ideology, and one of its tenets is the conviction that, if given a fair chance, reason must always carry the day. If you believe that, then you can only arrive at one conclusion, Jacoby's: It's not that Americans won't be rational, but that we can't. There's enough evidence of our poor schooling, susceptibility to pseudoscientific hucksterism and general cluelessness to justify that opinion, to be sure. But if that's really the case, then it really is down to a few brave souls, committing to a doomed battle to preserve that 'saving remnant' and fighting the dying of the light."

Gene Veith, provost and professor of Patrick Henry College (and amazing brain on issues of culture), is less politically-correct in his succinct post on Jacoby's article:

"It is precisely our intellectual elites–university professors, cutting-edge artists, culturally-in-tune authors–who are denying the efficacy of reason, insisting that truth is relative, and holding onto exploded ideas (such as Marxism and neo-Marxism) against all evidence. Who is training the teachers and writing the curriculum that have gutted our young peoples’ education and deprived us of our knowledge base? Who is denying that there is such thing as truth or goodness? Who is denying the existence of beauty and purposefully making art that defies the canons of classical aesthetics? Most common 'folks' (Jacoby's label for non-'elites') have better sense. So I agree with the author in lamenting the dumbing down of our culture. But it's not just the 'common people' but the intellectual elites who need to change their thinking."

Though obviously writing well before Jacoby's article was published, Tim Keller, in his new book, The Reason for God, accurately describes the big picture of what's going on in Jacoby's (and others') laments of such so-called "anti-intellectualism" and "anti-rationalism":

"Broadly understood, faith in some view of the world and human nature informs everyone's life. Everyone lives and operates out of some narrative identity, whether it is thought out and reflected upon or not. Pragmatists say that we should leave our deeper worldviews behind and find consensus about 'what works' - but our view of what works is determined by (to use a Wendell Berry title) what we think people are for. Any picture of happy human life that 'works' is necessarily informed by deep-seated beliefs about the purpose of human life. Even the most secular pragmatists come to the table with deep commitments and narrative accounts of what it means to be human."

It's obvious Jacoby's narrative account of what it means to be human has everything to do with how well we are educated by her brand of education - rational and (by implication) religion-less. And yet, this kind of Enlightenment thinking misses the forest for the trees in always demanding that reasonable must be rationale, which if you've lived any kind of real life, you know the former is not always the latter - sacrificial love comes to mind, for instance.

(Note: For a much more helpful article in dealing with some of the practical realities of American public education, read David Brooks' op-ed piece from Tuesday's New York Times.)

Shooting Sadness

Well, St. Louis (namely Kirkwood) made the national news again for all the wrong reasons.

Sigh.

Morally Dumbfounded

The New York Times published a story yesterday that I happened to catch right off the digital press. Since it pertained to what we've been studying in Biblical Ethics this week (ethical systems and how they affect our understanding of morality), I scrapped the first half of what I had planned for the day, made copies, projected the article on screen, and taught right from it.

The article, "Is 'Do Unto Others' Written Into Our Genes" documents the research of Jonathan Haidt, a moral psychologist at the University of Virginia. Reporter Nicholas Wade writes:

"Many people will say it is morally acceptable to pull a switch that diverts a train, killing just one person instead of the five on the other track. But if asked to save the same five lives by throwing a person in the train’s path, people will say the action is wrong. This may be evidence for an ancient subconscious morality that deters causing direct physical harm to someone else. An equally strong moral sanction has not yet evolved for harming someone indirectly."

Evolving morality? From what? From whom? This could only get better (that is, worse):

"Where do moral rules come from? From reason, some philosophers say. From God, say believers. Seldom considered is a source now being advocated by some biologists, that of evolution. At first glance, natural selection and the survival of the fittest may seem to reward only the most selfish values. But for animals that live in groups, selfishness must be strictly curbed or there will be no advantage to social living. Could the behaviors evolved by social animals to make societies work be the foundation from which human morality evolved?"

Basically, Dr. Haidt proposes that, just as we physically evolved from the so-called primordial soup billions of years ago, so our morality has somehow evolved from same said soup over time.

Illustratively speaking, then, a school of fish that somehow developed a higher sense of morality than another school of fish most likely passed on their more-developed moral genes to future generations in order to survive longer. Just as these fish eventually somehow developed legs and lungs to walk on land, they also somehow developed an initial sense of right and wrong, which got passed down (or up) to us today.

This, explains Dr. Haidt, is the only legitimate answer to what he calls "moral dumbfounding - when people feel strongly that something is wrong (or right) but cannot explain why...this occurs when moral judgment fails to come up with a convincing explanation for what moral intuition has decided."

Or, one could step back from the precipice of scientific ridiculousness and call it what theologians have for centuries: God's common grace. Puritan John Owen put it this way:

"How is it that men who still lie under the wrath and curse of God and are heirs of hell enjoy so many good gifts at the hand of God? How is it that men who are not savingly renewed by the Spirit of God nevertheless exhibit so many qualities, gifts, and accomplishments that promote the preservation, temporal happiness, cultural progress, social and economic improvement of themselves and of others?"

For instance, all people (regardless of their religious beliefs) who see a three-year-old playing in the middle of a busy road will make an attempt to save the child before the child is hit. Why? Is it only because they are trying to protect and prosper the species? No. It's the image of God within them and the accompanying feelings of empathy, responsibility, and value for life - even in the face of possible danger to themselves, and even if they don't acknowledge God's image within them as the motivation for their actions.

The concept of moral evolution should be recognized as the classic humanist idea that it is. After all, if we can make nature the fall guy for both good and bad behavior, then we have every right from our place at the top of the evolutionary chain to engage or dismiss whichever "natural" behaviors we so desire (who's going to argue - the primordial soup?). We can choose to do good when we want (and take credit for being so evolved in our morality), or we can do bad when we want (and blame our "natural" tendencies because, well, sorry, we're still evolving).

Moral evolution would seem a win-win for humanists everywhere - we're either conquerors over our genes (and deserving of praise), or we're victims at their mercy (and should be pitied) - but either way, we're not responsible. Unfortunately, the theory is just too silly to be taken seriously, especially when the biblical doctrine of common grace makes plenty of sense as to why people do good things they can't explain, as well as how humanity is somehow even still around.

Saddest Word of the Week

"Ex-step-father"

Used as part of a tearful student's after-class explanation of her pain in writing a two-page "defining moments" essay about her 15-year-old life.

Sigh.

Cheaters Never Prosper (But I So Wanted to Try)

Believe it or not, I can count on one hand the times I've cheated to get an advantage over someone else. I remember letting my eyes range free a couple times in elementary school to look at someone else's paper on a test. I also recall feeling badly after one exam I took during my freshman year in college when I accidentally saw (but then purposely used) one answer to a tough multiple-choice question on the paper belonging to the person in front of me.

In sports, apart from occasionally "faking" the taking of a charge in basketball ("acting" might be a better phrase - I never went down unless I got hit), in baseball I never scuffed up a pitch, threw a spitball, or pine-tarred a bat too high. For the most part, I was a pretty good kid whose mostly average test scores and physical abilities gave him little reason to try ridiculously harder than he should to achieve/maintain some sort of academic or athletic perfection - I had neither.

Well, this pretty good, mostly average kid about met his match (and almost gave in) to an incredibly strong temptation to cheat on his Christ & Salvation final exam today. By God's grace, I didn't, but I was dumbfounded as to how very much I wanted to. It was scary.

While I can't really go into detail as to the content of the test, suffice it to say the reason I wanted to cheat was because I felt I owed it to myself because I had studied - not as much as some guys, but plenty for me. So, when I was asked to define a particular past Christological heresy, build a case against it from the Scriptures, present a proper doctrinal understanding, and then make application for a modern-day congregation, I couldn't believe that, after all the studying I did, I could not for the life of me remember the heresy's definition.

And that was bad, since correctly answering the question required correctly defining the term. And not correctly defining the term was going to cost me at least 20% of my exam grade.

Only having three hours to take the exam (and needing every precious minute when it was said and done), I skipped the question and finished the rest of the test, doing okay on most of it (though there was one other section about which I had no clue or time, so I let it go).

But then, with just fifteen minutes to go, I came back to the first question, stared at it, and racked my brain trying to remember the definition I so desperately needed. And that's when the temptation got really bad. My mind fell into a trance of sorts, and all I could think about was how to get the answer without getting caught.

I knew I couldn't pull a book out of my bag as my classmates would notice; however, as I was sitting in the back row and typing the exam on a laptop (like most of the others in my class), I could easily have pulled up my notes right there on the screen or even jumped to Wikipedia for a basic answer to get me going in the right direction. No one would have ever noticed.

After about five minutes of mental gymnastics trying to figure out both how and if I was going to do any of this, I read the last part of the exam at the bottom of the last page. It said:

"Write and sign your own honor statement."

Since I still couldn't remember the definition I needed to the first question, I went ahead and wrote out an honor statement, attaching a digital file of my signature at the bottom. It read:

"As much as I wanted to on the first two sections, I did not cheat by looking anything up on the Internet or in my computer files (except for my digital signature below) while taking any of this exam. By God’s grace, I was/am honest."

It was when I saw my name come up that I snapped out of my cheater trance. I came up with what I thought was the definition I needed (though in checking my notes afterward, it wasn't right, so don't think this story is going to end with a pretty little bow on top), typed a few bullet points out with proof texts, cobbled together a quick paragraph to try to explain a better doctrinal position, and then blitzed a sentence or two of application.

And I'm sure I got it wrong, but that's okay. It's better to miss the definition of a heresy than miss the definition of who God, by his grace, has redeemed you to be. Thank you, Jesus.

On Storytelling

“The greatest religions convert the world through stories.” – Ben Okri

Dan Allender’s book, The Healing Path, is a good reminder of what we’re not called to do with our hurt and heartache – that is, to stuff, squelch, or suppress it. Avoiding the other extreme, Allender does a good job of going beyond any “express yourself” storytelling for one’s own sake; rather, he explains (albeit melodramatically at times) how stories – good, bad, and sometimes very ugly – are ours to tell for others and for the glory of God.

Of course, this kind of clichéd “sharing” can often bring to mind those early-Tuesday morning Bible study devotionals or long-winded campfire confessionals, all endured in the name of graciousness and friendship. Allender, however, does not try to merely encourage the generic sharing of a prepared testimony of faith; rather, he encourages the messenger to understand that who he or she is – as a personal embodiment of God’s larger story – is what we should be sharing in real and tangible ways. He writes:

“I am the network of all my relationships present, past, and future. And my conscious grasp of who I am revolves around the stories of those relationships. We never define ourselves in abstract (I am a pastor, a homemaker, a student) without also associating those labels with myriad stories remembered and forgotten. Our identities are suffused with narrative. I am a confederation of stories, relationships, and memories.” (61)

That I am such a confederation is good for me to remember, as I repeatedly forget I am a flesh-and-bone, heart-and-soul image of God and not just a container for the knowledge of God. The difference in mindset may seem a case of mere semantics, but the distinction (and its implication) is profound: if I’m a container, I can only hold what I know about God; as an image, aspects of who I am actually help me understand who God is.

This is why Allender is so intent on encouraging his readers to stay on the healing path of storytelling by not burying their pasts, numbing their presents, or fearing their futures. Instead, he prescribes a fierce and biblical clinging to hope, for

“Hope takes the experience of loss and powerlessness and uses it as the raw material for writing a new and unexpected story. When we lose hope, we stop remembering and telling stories that arouse our desire and anticipation. Our thoughts become narrow, focused on loss rather than on what will one day be sure and true.” (137)

For me, I think, my desire to write is a symptom of my greater desire to share with others not just what I think, but also who I am. And yet, as much as I enjoy writing (and have the sense that others enjoy reading what I write), I recognize that writing can be a noble discipline that – despite the appearance of transparency and vulnerability – still maintains a safe and comfortable distance between others and myself. Do people want to know what I think, or know who I am? Which do I really want them to know? Hmmm.

The same set of questions applies in person, as even though most people tend to like me, I’m told I’m hard to get know. I don’t mean to be, but then again I don’t mean to be a lot of things (selfish, prideful, and easily-frustrated come to mind, among others) that I am. There again, though, shifting the source of my stories from that of what I know to that of who I am could help, as the act of sharing myself with others would require a lot more from me than just regurgitating what I know (or think I know). To that end, I like Allender’s definition of accountability a lot more than the normal evangelical one:

“Accountability is storytelling in a round that brings each voice into play, ultimately forming a chorus that sings in praise of forgiveness, glories in the harvest to come, and rests in the gratitude of a day done.” (254)

Accountability as storytelling (and not just declaration of guilt)? A chorus that sings of praise, glory, and rest? I’m for that (as long as somebody else goes first while I warm up).

Therapy, Counseling, and Drugs (Oh, My!)

“Personality disorders are among the most problematic and vexing disorders the pastor is likely to face in his or her day-to-day life in the church.” The Pastor’s Guide to Psychological Disorders and Treatments, pg. 74

“I’m schizophrenic, but we’re better now.” T-Shirt for sale at Union Station

Reading The Pastor’s Guide for my Intro to Counseling class, I began to wonder if I should change degree programs, forsaking the M. Div. and going more the M.A.C. route. After all, if indeed “every pastor…regularly encounters pastoral care issues that require counseling intervention,” (xi) and “the average pastor reports spending between 10 percent and 46 percent of his or her time counseling,” (1) why not cut to the chase, forget trying to pass Beginning Hebrew (which I’ve failed twice already), and get a counseling degree? Megan says I’d be as good or better at it as at pastoring. What do we need pastors for anyway (other than to refer parishioners to counselors)?

This was one thought I came away with after reading The Pastor’s Guide. While quite helpful in better understanding the areas of psychological disorders, maladaptive personalities, family distress, and the mental health industry in general, I felt that the guide seemed more a justification as to why pastors should simply refer parishioners to therapy, rather than as a handbook to help pastors in their actual counseling. While I’m not switching degree programs (at least not until I try Hebrew one more time), I do still have questions pertaining to differences between pastoring and counseling people, and how those might one day play themselves out in any church ministry I might lead.

Make no mistake: I’m not coming from a purely Nouthetic perspective, nor do I have anything against using medications for the treatment of chemical problems (though that wasn't always the case). I see a psychiatrist myself every quarter and have been taking an anti-depressant for a year-and-a-half now that has seemed helpful. I also see a student counselor in the M.A.C. program here once a week, as well as meet with at least one of my pastors or elders every other week, and believe there’s freedom to do all this in the name of redeeming what God has created, but is fallen – me, in other words.

I don’t agree, however, with treating problems and disorders with drugs alone, nor would I encourage talking therapy that doesn’t come from the perspective or (at minimum) the acknowledgment of biblical principles in a patient’s therapy. Medications are fine (and often needed), but “the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes” (Romans 1:16) is found in the gospel – not in my daily Celexa tablet – and the latter needs to serve and be subject to the former for biblical sanctification of the justified Christian to take place. Like the rest of you, of course, I’m still trying to understand how that works.

That said, I probably most appreciated chapter six – “Selecting a Mental Health Professional” – in thinking through the need for “carefully evaluating MHPs in your community before you refer a parishioner to one of them for help” (131). Coming from a small town, I had never really thought about the need to develop a network of counseling professionals for future pastoral ministry (the pastor was usually it – and for free!), but I want to think more about the idea in the context of my own personal (and still developing) convictions as to what (if any) steady partnership should exist between the pastor and the counselor in helping a person in all of life.

I don’t want to be overly dogmatic and say there isn’t a happy medium that could or should exist, but I also don’t want to arrive at a decision made only for pragmatic reasons (i.e. I just don’t have time to counsel everybody who wants/needs it, so I’ll just “farm them out”) instead of real ones.

Bracketology: A Study in Postmodernism?

Like many this time of year, I just filled out my NCAA brackets with completely uneducated guesses as to who will make the Final Four. When I say "uneducated," I'm not kidding: though well-versed in the fundamentals of basketball, I haven't watched a game all season.

I do this every March - make decisions based on personal impressions (and little else) of the names (not the teams) of the schools playing - with the ridiculous but enduring hope that this will be the year when the planets align, and I somehow correctly pick the winners of every single contest in the 64-team tournament.

It could happen, you know. It really could. But that's not my point.

Slate just did a short but interesting piece on The Enlightened Bracketologist: The Final Four of Everything, a book essentially being marketed as a new way to look at life:

"Bracketology—the practice of parsing people, places, and things into discrete one-on-one matchups to determine which of the two is superior or preferable—works because it is simple. It is a system that helps us make clearer and cleaner decisions about what is good, better, best in our world. What could be simpler than breaking down a choice into either/or, black or white, this one or that one?"

I'm not sure there's a better modern-day example of postmodernism. Whether it involves determining one's tournament winner, favorite movie, or most memorable historic event, the idea of continuously picking between two different choices right in front of you in search of which is better - all with little consideration of contextual reality, background story, or overarching meta-narrative - this is postmodernism.

Who knew March Madness could teach us so much?

Brain Holiday: Postponed

After a semi-tough academic week (midterms) and coming into our first totally clear (no immediate deadlines) weekend in a month, I was looking forward to today being a bit of a "brain holiday". After Friday's chapel at Covenant, however, it is not to be.

Dan Zink, my Marriage and Family professor from last semester, interviewed visiting lecturer, Diane Langberg, a faculty member at Westminster Theological Seminary and Reformed Episcopal Seminary (both in Philadelphia), and a practicing psychologist whose clinical expertise includes 30 years of working with sexual trauma surivors and clergy (many of whom have inflicted such trauma on their churches). Dr. Langberg speaks internationally on topics specifically related to women, children, sex trafficking, and other such abuses all over the world, and Covenant is sponsoring a conference with Dr. Langberg this weekend called Behind Closed Doors: The Abuse of Power in Marriage, the Church, and Other Relationships.

In addition, this coming Tuesday, Covenant and Memorial are co-sponsoring an evening presentation/Q&A with speaker Deborah Dortzbach, author of The AIDS Crisis: What We Can Do. Dortzbach is World Relief's international director HIV/AIDS programs, and mobilizes and equips the local church to promote and provide AIDS awareness, sexual education for youth, orphan support, and much more. (For anyone interested in going, the event is Tuesday, March 6, at 7 p.m. at Memorial. Admission is free.)

What do either of these have to do with my weekend? Physically, nothing - I have no plans to spend another weekend taking a class (I did that in January and again two weeks ago in February), and Megan has her Teaching and Learning class on Tuesday nights, so I'll be home with the ladies (er, that is, my four female children) and unable to make the discussion.

But mentally (and hopefully even spiritually), I have been thinking about injustice in the world a lot already this weekend, with plenty of horrible statistics and real illustrations of evil's awful attrocities floating around in my head. I've written about this kind of thing before here and here, but am newly-reminded that having written about it once or twice doesn't mean I should stop writing about it now...or trying to do something about it soon.

Sure, it doesn't make for the most relaxing of weekends (at least mentally), but in the midst of our physical comfort and lower-middle class existence here in the richest and freest country in the world, I'm not sure that's such a bad thing.

More to come (I hope).

Original Sin

Good quote today concerning original sin from the book, Beyond Identity, by Dick Keyes:

"The original sin is refusal to be and live as a creature and instead to pretend at knowing better than God himself, to set oneself up as the ultimate judge...The original sin is not always expressed in conscious animosity toward God. More often it is a polite relegation of God to irrelevance."

Polite relegation of God to irrelevance. Yep, that about sums it up for me.

The Big Read

Our little book club at Memorial is taking part in The Big Read, a national effort modeled on successful "city read" programs designed to encourage literary reading by helping communities come together to read and discuss a single book. The selected book is Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451.

Lectures, readings, art exhibitions, theater productions, book discussion groups, and film festivals are occurring in a variety of locations throughout St. Louis, all featuring themes and questions that Fahrenheit 451 raises about the power of books and reading.

There are several informal discussions of the book going on on Washington University's campus in February, and two discussions will be held at Kemper Art Museum on Sunday Feb. 11 and 18 at 2:00 p.m., followed by a docent led tour of the museum's new exhibition called Reality Bites: Making Avant-Garde Art in Post Wall Germany.

Our fearless leader, Heidi Kolk, has given us a month to read the book, culminating with a discussion on Sunday evening, February 18th (all are welcome - if you'd like to join us, drop me an email for details). Megan and I are hoping to take part in at least one of the community-sponsored events as well.

To possibly whet your appetite, below is a review I wrote of Fahrenheit 451 when I first read it a couple of years ago. The review is hardly in-depth, but it might give you an idea of the basic story and serve as an encouragement to pick up and read a good book.

With all the publicity generated by Michael Moore's film Fahrenheit 9/11, I thought it might be a good idea to read Ray Bradbury's original book of similar title. Fahrenheit 451 represents the temperature at which paper burns, which is fitting considering Bradbury's book is about censorship, and I enjoyed the futuristic story (which takes place now, fifty years later from when he originally wrote it) as it bears great and realistic resemblance to our ever-interesting (and complicated) world today.

The story follows one Guy Montag, a "fireman" whose job it is not to put out fires, but to start them in homes whose owners are reportedly hiding books. All seems well and fine to Guy (who has been burning books for ten years) until he has a conversation with Clarisse, a 17-year-old girl who questions him about his present occupation.

This gets Guy asking questions in his head, and at his next fire, he secretly salvages some books as part of his consideration of Clarisse's inquiries. He then meets a former professor (with no books, there is not much to teach; hence the "former" qualifier) and he relates to Guy that just because books are banned doesn't mean their content is lost and may one day be reclaimed.

Seeing the literary light, Guy has a drastic change of heart and, in the course of 24 hours, plots to single-handedly rage against the censorship machine, risking his job, relationships, and life to evoke such revolution. The rest of the book details his crusade, his ideas and motives that accompany it, and resolves in a satisfying and hopeful manner as he joins forces with other "book people" to one day create a new beginning from the ashes of censorship.

A bit vague and hodge-podge at the start, Bradbury's writing style smoothes out to tell a good story at a good pace. While his characters are semi-developed at best, Bradbury's main idea and overarching themes branching out from it are most interesting, especially when read in the light of the current political climate and clash of government mistrust and freedom of speech.

Comparable to George Orwell's 1984 and Aldous Huxley's Brave New World, Fahrenheit 451 is probably the most believable of these three "doomed future" stories as it does not come across so "futuristic" as it does "future-is-now" in terms of plot and perspective.

Of all three books, Fahrenheit 451 seems most organic in its storytelling, and this perhaps is what makes it more frightening to think that a few generations of bad decisions could very well cast us into a cauldron of censorship, a concept so foreign to us right now that it makes it all the more scary to think about and believe.

24 and Convergence

The four-hour premier of Fox's 24 these past two nights was quite a start to the sixth season of the show, ending with last night's detonation of a nuclear bomb (the first of supposedly five across the nation) in Los Angeles. Megan and I became fans of the show by way of a DVD "catch up" of seasons 1 and 2 just before season 3 came out, and we've been looking forward to this new sixth season with great anticipation. (Oh, and I secretly have a "man-crush" on Jack Bauer, played with tragic brilliance by Kiefer Sutherland.)

I won't go into all the minute-by-minute details of the last two nights (you can get them all - literally - here), but I will say I'm struck by both the uncomfortable reality of its vivid portrayal of terrorism, as well as its powerful illustration of Islamic discipleship in the world today.

Sure, Hollywood takes a few liberties (terrorists never looked so handsome, in a GQ kind of way), but a peek at the commitment and community of a guy who's getting ready to blow up a bus or a bomb along with himself in the name of Allah is, well, gripping. While we in America may call such an act cowardly in terms of traditional warfare (and it is), we can't deny the extent to which these followers are willing to live out their convictions either. It's the difference in a plate of ham and eggs: the chicken was involved; the pig was committed.

In my Old Testament Prophets class this past weekend, Dr. Richard Pratt asked if anybody knew of the existence of a Covenant Seminary martyr list? There were a few smirks and uncomfortable glances, but somehow that was one document that hadn't shown up in the promotional materials.

Dr. Pratt was dead serious about the question, however, going on to make the point that, in a world in which more Christians are being martyred for their faith than at any other time in history (first century included), how is it that very few of us in the PCA or the larger American evangelical church know any one who has been martyred for his or her faith?

Fewer smirks; more uncomfortable glances. Come on, Pratt...just teach the Bible.

Oh.

Tertullian wrote that "The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church." And, while I suppose it's a morbid convergence of my January-term class schedule and my recent television habits, you don't have to be Jack Bauer to figure out the connection between the persecution of the Kingdom and the accompanying growth of it, both historically as well as present day.

Which kingdom am I really committed to build? God's? America's? Mine? Perhaps more telling: how far am I willing - really willing - to go to build it? How far have I gone so far? How willing is Megan? Our family? This, I suppose, is the hard one for me. When I was single, I really did have more of the martyr mentality than I do now. Obviously, being a husband and father changes you, but, as Dr. Pratt challenged us, our grandfathers went to fight in World War II because of their love for our parents, not in spite of it.

Dr. Pratt's point: "They died for who they loved. Don't tell me your kids growing up - knowing you died for who you loved (Christ) - won't shape them more than being home to play catch."

Whoa.

It's not that God is asking us to take up arms against Muslims (or anyone else); his is not the call to a 21-century version of The Crusades (one of the worst human ideas in the name of the Church, bar none). But we are called to give our lives for the sake of the One who gave his life for us - not to blow people up, but to risk reaching those who would us.

In many regards, Jack Bauer's job is easier than mine: he can kill anyone who attacks him and his citizenship; I'm to love my attacker and give my life for mine.

Talk about your differing war strategies...

Continuous Partial Attention

My friend, Will, passed along an article by New York Times columnist Thomas L. Friedman called "The Taxi Driver," a piece that chronicled a cab ride he recently took in Paris.

Apparently, from the time the cab driver picked him up to the time he dropped him off, the cabbie was talking on his cell phone non-stop. The irony is that Friedman realized he wasn't perhaps as bothered as he should have been; after all, he himself was trying to finish an article on his laptop while listening to his iPod to drown out the cabbie. He writes:

"I relate all this because it illustrates something I’ve been feeling more and more lately — that technology is dividing us as much as uniting us. Yes, technology can make the far feel near. But it can also make the near feel very far. For all I know, my driver was talking to his parents in Africa. How wonderful! But that meant the two of us wouldn’t talk at all. And we were sitting two feet from each other.

When I shared this story with Linda Stone, the technologist who once labeled the disease of the Internet age 'continuous partial attention' — two people doing six things, devoting only partial attention to each one — she remarked: 'We’re so accessible, we’re inaccessible. We can’t find the off switch on our devices or on ourselves...We want to wear an iPod as much to listen to our own playlists as to block out the rest of the world and protect ourselves from all that noise. We are everywhere — except where we actually are physically.'"

I've written on the topic of technology and how it affects our humanity before here, and am teaching on it as well this Sunday at Memorial. I'd appreciate any thoughts and/or links you have as I pull some new content together for it. Your own stories are appreciated as well.

And how about that phrase "continuous partial attention"? That's beautiful...and accurate.

Hope

In the midst of midterms, I had the thought today that there were enough things, ideas, projects, opportunities, and pursuits swirling around me for which I have very specific and deep hopes. And, I didn't want to miss the opportunity to record some of them. I'm not sure how interesting this may be, but you're welcome to add your own list of hopes to mine.

By God's grace,

• I have hope (though there's not much left after tonight's loss) that the Cardinals can pull out the NLCS to get into the World Series. That would be fun and cool for the girls and me, as they are getting into baseball more and more with each game we watch or listen to together.


• I have hope for Memorial as well as Covenant's Student Council (of which I'm an elected "middler representative"), that my efforts to help others lead will free them from a lack of confidence and conviction in their leadership.


• I have hope for our family (both immediate and extended), that what I'm learning in my Marriage and Family Counseling class will enable me to be just a little better member of both.


• I have hope for my girls, that they would somehow grow up with an unbelievable amount of security and a minimal amount of scarring despite the fact that I am their father.


• I have hope for Megan and me, that we can continue to grow together and let go of any grief we've dealt with in the first almost-ten years of our marriage. It's hardly been tons, but it's been enough.


• I have hope for another two-and-a-half good years here at Covenant, that we could learn much and apply even more, both now and later.


• I have hope that we can somehow pay for school (and everything else). I also have hope of somehow paying for four weddings one day, and even more hope that the girls will want to double-up so we'll only have to pay for two.


• I have hope of a pastoring/teaching role being both available and begging me to fill it. I don't really care where we end up, but I suppose I do secretly hope it's in the Midwest - I like it here.


• I have hope to keep our family's farm in the family at least through my lifetime.


• I have hope of graduating from seminary with spunk (and not just a degree).


• I have hope of one day writing another book...on something.


• I have hope of being secure if I never do (write another book, that is).


• I have hope of being in the presence of God forever and not doubting that I belong because of Jesus.


• I have hope of always having hope.

For those who know me, you know I'm hardly an optimist; I'm more of a pessimistic-idealist.

Enjoy it while you can.

Marrying (or Divorcing?) for Love

More interesting reading on marriage, this time from Counseling and Therapy for Couples (2nd edition) by Lynn L. Long and Mark E. Young. This textbook was written by two college professors on "couples" counseling, not "marriage" counseling, as "the old standby term, 'marriage counseling,' is fast fading from the therapist's lexicon because, today, many people who are in couples are not legally married." (xix)

So far, the best part about the book has been its comprehensive history, definitions of key terms, premises, problems, and methods and techniques that comprise theories of couples therapy. Those theories (as addressed in chapters two and three) are:

• behavior therapy


• object relations therapy and Bowen theory


• structural and strategic therapy


• solution-focused therapy


• narrative therapy and emotionally-focused couples therapy

While more technical than some of my other reading assignments, this book has been a good read, especially as a primer of understanding a basic history of psychology that somehow I never took seriously in college (something about experiments with mice and rats and not knowing why any of this mattered to my then 19-year-old self).

However, with a little more of life under my belt (including almost ten years of marriage), if I ever got kicked out of my Masters of Divinity program for not quite "mastering divinity," I think I'd give some kind of counseling/psychology endeavor a try. In a word, it's fascinating.

More an observation than a hypothesis, this quote from Long and Young was interesting:

"Althought divorce was unusual in the United States in past generations, life expectancy for both sexes was shorter than it is today. ''Til death do us part' was not as big a commitment in early 1900s as it is today. As life expectancy increased and societal expectations shifted, a new mode of marriage emerged based on intimacy, companionship, and cooperation, rather than solely on duty and responsibility."

The authors go on to speak of how "equality and choice are central tenets of modern marriage; with the freedom of choice in mate selection, friendship, love, and passion emerged as powerful ingredients in couple formation." (9) In other words, the idea of "marrying for love" has, in the past 100 years, been the motivation for tying the nuptial knot, and "this change reflects a basic change in society over the century. The women's movement, economic stress, childbearing at a later age, and increased career opportunities have influenced people's choices about when and how to become a couple." (10)

None of this may seem particularly earth-shattering in terms of new thinking about marriage, but I would argue that the emphasis on love and and passion of the past 100 years has certainly informed evangelical Christianity's take on marriage. Granted, we (hopefully) stress the ideas of life-long commitment and loyalty to our spouse, but the "marrying for love" theme sure seems more prevalent in current books, online matching services, and marriage seminars and retreats.

Sadly, the result seems to be the infamously-equal divorce rate (now somewhere between 50% and 65%, depending on who you talk to/read) that we share with the rest of the world.

Leaving, Cleaving

I (very) briefly researched the topic of twenty-somethings and whether, when, and how they tend to leave or cleave in marriage, as living at home and marrying later seems all the rage among twenty- and even thirty-somethings in our 21st century American culture.

From my own observation, it seems 30 is the new 20. Traditional expectations that a person will seek and experience an increasing degree of independence (physically, emotionally, financially) from his or her parents and “leave and cleave” to another similarly-aged person in marriage in one’s early-to-mid twenties have greatly shifted to one’s mid-to-late twenties and even beyond.

It’s as if adolescence (defined in the New Oxford American Dictionary as “the period following the onset of puberty during which a young person develops from a child into an adult” ) has been put on hold…or at least stretched a great deal from its normally-thought-of parameters.

Part of this stretching of adolescence (itself a non-existent delineation before the twentieth century) stems from not treating young adults as, well, adults. According to a 2003 study by the National Opinion Research Center, most Americans today don't consider a person an adult until age 26, or until she or he has finished school, landed a full-time job, and begun to raise a family.

This phenomenon leads to (or is it the result of?) what researcher Pamela Paul calls “permaparenting,” the most blatant manifestation of which is the phenomenon of boomerang kids. According to the 2000 census, 4 million people between the ages of 25 and 34 live with their folks. And yet, as Francis K. Goldscheider writes:

“Much of the research literature views nest leaving by young adults primarily as a normal life course transition. In particular, early departure from the parental home long before marriage has been treated as a beneficial response to the long-term growth in economic resources-a response that increases privacy for adjacent generations. The link between being an adult and residential independence has reinforced the sense that anything that speeds the process is beneficial. Even as a response to problematic relationships that result from changes in family structure, young people's early leaving has been interpreted as the result of the earlier development of ‘a sense of self as separate from family, thus making it easier for children to initiate the transition to independence.’”

If twenty- and even thirty-year-olds are still living with their parents, odds are they’re not getting married and learning to leave and cleave in marriage. And if they’re not getting married and learning to leave and cleave in marriage, odds are they’re missing one of the better and effective means of God’s sanctification for them.

Baggage

(I wrote the majority of this short piece five years ago, but never knew how to end it. This past weekend, I came up with an ending that might work, though I'm open to suggestions.)

Baggage by Craig Dunham

(The scene opens. On one side is the Attendant, a mostly-even-tempered airline employee – courteous and professional. On the other side is Mr. Jones, a business traveler who tends to blow everything out of proportion through over-analysis and over-reaction. The Attendant is looking at her computer screen, having just helped a traveler; Mr. Jones is the next person in line.)

Attendant: Next in line, please.

Mr. Jones: That’s me. (Picks up luggage and walks forward to desk.) Good morning.

Attendant: Good morning, sir. And where are you heading today?

Mr. Jones (putting luggage down): You know, that’s a great question. (Attendant looks perplexed.) I suppose that’s the question everybody is asking these days, aren’t they – and of course, they should be, I mean, it’s pretty important! – but I’m not sure I’ve figured that one out just yet. How about you? What’s your final destination?

Attendant (confused): Uh, I’m here at this desk until five. You don’t know your final destination?

Mr. Jones: I’m telling you I’m not really sure, and anyway, I’m not sure I have any choice in the matter. I mean, how in the world – in the midst of a thousand ideas and a million thoughts about what makes the world go ‘round – am I supposed to figure that out?

Attendant: Well, you might try looking at your ticket.

Mr. Jones (getting a bit more emotional as he considers the statement): As if it were that simple! Where do I get a ticket like that, one that tells me everything I need to know about my final destination, let alone how to get there and when to leave!?

Attendant (trying to help): From a travel agent? Or the Internet?

Mr. Jones: The Internet!? You seriously think the ticket for my final destination can be found on the Internet, the wasteland of all humanity, the dumping ground for all useless information, opinion, and fluff?

Attendant: Well, if you purchased it from there, yes.

Mr. Jones: Purchased it from there? At what price? What would such a ticket really be worth? And do you really think I could afford something like that on the salary I make? Maybe it’s a little different on the other side of that counter, but I’m not pulling down that kind of money, nor am I willing to throw it at the Internet for a ticket for my supposed final destination!

Attendant (becoming a little irritated): I see. Well, sir, let me try to find your ticket in our system. Can you give me your name, please?

Mr. Jones (flippantly): You think that by simply entering my name, you will somehow pull up on your computer my final destination?

Attendant (impatiently): That’s my intention, sir. Your name, please?

Mr. Jones: Jones. Ed Jones. (Attendant types as Mr. Jones builds momentum.) But I doubt seriously that by typing in the random label my parents chose to give me to distinguish me from the rest of the world, that you will be able to determine my final destination – that one place where this life ends and where whatever comes next begins – that one place called…

Attendant (finding the destination): Cleveland.

Mr. Jones: Excuse me?

Attendant: Cleveland. Your final destination is Cleveland.

Mr. Jones (embarrassed and understanding a bit): Oh. Yes, Cleveland. Cleveland is THAT final destination.

Attendant (trying to move things along): Has your baggage been with you from the time you packed it?

Mr. Jones (shaking his head): Ma’am, I haven’t known a time when I haven’t had my baggage with me.

Attendant (not looking up): Do you have any baggage you’d like to check?

Mr. Jones (pauses): Do you think it will help? To check my baggage, I mean?

Attendant (looking up): It usually does. It’s hard carrying everything around with you.

Mr. Jones: You’re telling me. (pauses) Well, now that you mention it, yes. I do have some baggage to check. (pauses for courage…and then begins, increasing in agony with each line) I was always picked last for kickball in the 3rd grade. I liked New Coke when nobody else did. On my first date, I totaled my car swatting at a fly. In high school band, I played clarinet instead of trumpet because my lips were too big. My greatest academic achievement was four years of perfect attendance. My cat never liked me and my dog’s name was “Stay.”

Attendant (interrupting): Stay?

Mr. Jones: Stay. As in “Come here, Stay.” (pause) He never came.

Attendant (staring dumbfounded): Sir?

Mr. Jones (emotionally exhausted): Yes?

Attendant (trying to get back on track): How many suitcases do you have?

Mr. Jones (looking down): Two.

Attendant: Thank you. (tagging the luggage) Please make your way to Security.

Mr. Jones (looking sad): Ma’am, I’d love to, but I’ve been insecure my whole life.

Attendant (hurriedly): Next!

Post 9/11

I had neither time nor words to write a 9/11 entry yesterday. This morning, however, I imagined that perhaps I had blogged something at the TwentySomeone site in previous years concerning the tragedy that I might share, but alas, after a quick search, this weak post seems about all I've been able to muster in the past five years concerning the day.

Not wanting to disappoint my dedicated readership here, I pulled out my journal from five years ago and now offer what I wrote back then (albeit, on the 13th - two whole days after the event - as I was too shaken up to do otherwise). So, for what it's worth:

"'Confuse the wicked, O Lord, confound their speech, for I see violence and strife in the city.' Psalm 55:9

It has taken me two whole days before I could even begin processing with any kind of logic the events of Tuesday's terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. For two days I have been numb and dumbfounded, craving the latest information and yet not knowing how to deal with it when I got it.

The hardest part for me in all this was the wrestling match required to somehow view this Christianly, with God aware and involved despite the awfulness of everything. I remember thinking on Tuesday that this was too big and too much for God to have handled, that God was as surprised as the rest of us when those planes crashed into their targets.

It all seemed so out of control - the beginning of the end as we were unsure what would be next and were there more planes still to come down? The evil of all of this was (and still is to some degree) beyond imagination and, I remember thinking, the victor over a God - my God - who seemed so silent and shocked as the rest of us.

Even now, I'm not sure what exactly God is up to with regard to all of this. I suppose I can see more this morning how all these events do fit within God's plan and oversight - we are sinners who sin, sadly in some attrocious and murderous ways - but I wish he would hold some kind of press conference to let all of us know that. How, Lord, can you stay quiet after something like this? We need you to speak.

For certain, this is a watershed event in our country and culture, particularly for those twenty and under who have never experienced anything of this threatening nature before. My generation had the Challenger disaster and the tense end to the Cold War, all in the midst of a so-so economy; the generation previous was the Kennedy assassination, Vietnam, and the hostage crisis of the seventies.

This event will mark these kids not only because of its atrocity, but more so because it is the first true threat to an American they have only known as prosperous, safe, and alone. That idea of our country ended on Tuesday, or at least was reshaped significantly as we all found out that, among other things, we are quite vulnerable as well.

I don't know if time truly heals all wounds. That is to say, five years doesn't seem enough for this one yet.

Endless Playback

A mentor of mine, Scott, once shared with me how he tries to keep from grumbling as he goes through life. In his early 60’s and yet to really come into the digital age, Scott says he imagines his mind as a kind of reel-to-reel tape recorder, with his thoughts and conversations with God and others making up his personal tape collection.

Scott allows himself to play the tapes only twice in his mind; after that, he commits to mentally erasing the negative reels – those containing his grumblings – and instead tries to find better material to archive.

I like Scott’s analogy, though I confess my reel-to-reel can be far too often on endless playback.