The Night Writer - Spirit in the Night

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Road construction season

by The Night Writer

If there were a road-map of my brain you'd likely see a lot of philosophical or meditative roads and perhaps not a few dead ends. Some parallel each other, others are all over the map, and some intersect (it's an arrangement only a St. Paul city engineer could appreciate). Anyway, the other day I was idling at the intersection of Albert Jay Nock Drive and Bonhoeffer Way (see my April 9th and April 15th posts) and started wondering how similar those paths might or might not be, and could they merge?

Both men lived at the same time, and both were committed pacifists. Bonhoeffer was executed by the Nazis and Nock's career essentially ended in large part due to his opposition to the U.S.'s participation in World War II. Because of their unshakable principles Nock saw the State as the natural enemy of man, while Bonhoeffer certainly saw the Nazi State, at least, in the same way. The difference between them, however, is that Nock dismissed the masses and their inevitable destructiveness in favor of preserving a "remnant" who could be taught and encouraged so they might rebuild society. Bonhoeffer was nearly the opposite, pondering and preaching on how we might live in order to serve and elevate "the Other." Nock's philosophy was perhaps demonstrated in the extreme by Ayn Rand's (another contemporary) ultimate worship of the individual, while the epitome of what Bonhoeffer worshiped could be described as sainthood. It's an interesting comparison, to me anyway, but not the point of this post.

For me, Nock may be a fascinating side-trip, but Bonhoeffer is the main drag. As a Christian, I believe that we achieve true happiness not in glorifying ourselves but in demonstrating the glory of God through our interaction with others. From God first saying "It is not fit for Adam to be alone", to the Sermon on the Mount, to the letters of Paul, to Bonhoeffer writing "Life Together" we see it is all about relationship; it's certainly the case for the deepest satisfactions and greatest joys in my life. I see my mission not to get people into church, but to get the Church out to the people. As I pondered these things I "coincidentally" came across a very insightful poem earlier today on Through the Illusion. It's one that apparently has been getting emailed quite a bit and is entitled A Spiritual Conspiracy and talks about those who quietly interact with others as they "be the change they want to see."

(Click here to read the poem within this post.)

A Spiritual Conspiracy

On the surface of the world right now there is

war and violence and things seem dark.
But calmly and quietly, at the same time,

something else is happening underground
An inner revolution is taking place

and certain individuals are being called to a higher light.

It is a silent revolution.
From the inside out. From the ground up.
This is a Global operation.
A Spiritual Conspiracy.
There are sleeper cells in every nation on the planet.
You won’t see us on the T.V.
You won’t read about us in the newspaper
You won’t hear about us on the radio
We don’t seek any glory
We don’t wear any uniform
We come in all shapes and sizes, colors and styles
Most of us work anonymously
We are quietly working behind the scenes

in every country and culture of the world
Cities big and small, mountains and valleys,

in farms and villages, tribes and remote islands
You could pass by one of us on the street

and not even notice
We go undercover
We remain behind the scenes
It is of no concern to us who takes the final credit
But simply that the work gets done
Occasionally we spot each other in the street
We give a quiet nod and continue on our way
During the day many of us pretend we have normal jobs
But behind the false storefront at night

is where the real work takes a place
Some call us the Conscious Army
We are slowly creating a new world

with the power of our minds and hearts
We follow, with passion and joy
Our orders come from from the Central Spiritual Intelligence
We are dropping soft, secret love bombs when no one is looking

Poems ~ Hugs ~ Music ~ Photography ~ Movies ~ Kind words ~
Smiles ~ Meditation and prayer ~ Dance ~ Social activism ~ Websites
Blogs ~ Random acts of kindness…

We each express ourselves in our own unique ways

with our own unique gifts and talents
Be the change you want to see in the world
That is the motto that fills our hearts
We know it is the only way real transformation takes place
We know that quietly and humbly we have the

power of all the oceans combined
Our work is slow and meticulous
Like the formation of mountains
It is not even visible at first glance
And yet with it entire tectonic plates

shall be moved in the centuries to come
Love is the new religion of the 21st century
You dont have to be a highly educated person
Or have any exceptional knowledge to understand it
It comes from the intelligence of the heart
Embedded in the timeless evolutionary pulse of all human beings
Be the change you want to see in the world
Nobody else can do it for you
We are now recruiting
Perhaps you will join us
Or already have.
All are welcome
The door is open

-author unknown

(hide)

I think the message of the poem was intended to be ecumenical, or even humanist, but I can't help but see it through a Christian perspective. As C.S. Lewis (another contemporary of Nock, Bonhoeffer and Rand — talk about your greatest generation!) put it, "I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else." After reading the poem I applauded it in the Comment section of TTI, but also felt compelled to write a challenge to the sense of complacency and hubris that would undo its spirit:

There are those who want to cheer-lead for change, who belong to the right groups, show up religiously at church or the progressive book-clubs and cafes and feel deeply about things — and “do” nothing. They embrace the concept but can’t grasp the reality; they love “the people” but don’t know a person. They have little or no involvement, and therefore little affect, in individual lives of others outside their family (and sometimes even inside of it). Yet that is where the “change you want to see” happens. You change a little, you help someone else change, and you change even more. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I wrote it as a challenge to myself and not to elevate myself, though sometimes I experience elevation as I described back in February.

Yes, I've felt and enjoyed "elevation" in watching certain movies or reading certain books or hearing certain speakers, but I've also felt it most profoundly when infused by a Trinity that's anything but pop. How ironic, it appears to me, that the learned experts can walk right up to the edge of revelation and stop themselves just short, as if it were a cliff they dare not let themselves go over.

Amazon's editorial synopsis of Keltner's book includes the following description (emphasis mine): "A new examination of the surprising origins of human goodness. In Born to Be Good, Dacher Keltner demonstrates that humans are not hardwired to lead lives that are 'nasty, brutish, and short'— we are in fact born to be good. He investigates an old mystery of human evolution: why have we evolved positive emotions like gratitude, amusement, awe, and compassion that promote ethical action and are the fabric of cooperative societies?"

Evolved? Could, perhaps, those emotions have been implanted in us by God? Could they even be the essence of what "being created in the likeness and image of" means? That is, not so much a physical likeness but a spiritual harmonic that resonates in the presence of goodness? I have been suddenly "elevated" while singing praises to God, or in the midst of praying for someone, or when a revelation crystallizes suddenly in my half-alert mind. It doesn't happen every time I do these things; in fact it usually happens when I'm not expecting it to. In the middle of a song that we've sung dozens of times, for example, or in half-way through praying for someone when — whoosh elevation! (Actually, in our circles, we call it "anointing") It seems to wait for that split-second when I stop thinking about myself to manifest itself and I know that I've made a different kind of connection, or been a conduit for one.

As I read the poem I was also reminded of a song by Bruce Cockburn entitled “Lovers in a Dangerous Time”:

Don’t the hours grow shorter as the days go by
You never get to stop and open your eyes
One day you’re waiting for the sky to fall
And next you’re dazzled by the beauty of it all
When you’re lovers in a dangerous time
Lovers in a dangerous time

These fragile bodies of touch and taste
This vibrant skin this hair like lace
Spirits open to the thrust of grace
Never a breath you can afford to waste

{Refrain}
When you’re lovers in a dangerous time
Lovers in a dangerous time
When you’re lovers in a dangerous time
Lovers in a dangerous time

When you’re lovers in a dangerous time
Sometimes you’re made to feel as if your love’s a crime
Nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight
Got to kick at the darkness till it bleeds daylight

{Refrain}

We are lovers in a dangerous time, but the darkness can and does bleed daylight.

Posted on April 16, 2009. 5 Comments 0 Trackbacks

Sunday, April 5, 2009

Lumpy, part 2

by The Night Writer

A short time ago I wrote a brief post about Romans 12:2, comparing our lives to a lump of clay either conformed by the world or transformed by God; either squeezed or pressed into a mold or filled and expanded as if by a hand reaching inside us as we spin to bow us into a bowl or vase or some useful vessel.

One thing I didn't note at the time is that in both cases, the lump of clay has very little say in what it gets turned into. Conformity is a matter of channeling our thinking, while transformation is a matter of renewing our mind (or having it renewed) so that those channels are overflowed. We might go along with either activity but once we submit to either we don't know just how it will turn out.

Not that we don't try, especially when it comes to the transforming/expanding touch of God the Father. Having spent our lives conformed, we almost can't help ourselves from repeating the process as we are being transformed. At first we are in awe of what God has done and is doing, especially when we are aware of the quality of the material that He's working with. All too soon, however, it seems we can't resist trying to shape God into something that suits our purpose instead of the other way around.

A little bit of revelation, or a transcendant, even miraculous, experience can seem like our destination rather than just a signpost on our way. When God wants to continue to work in our life we'll still instinctively hunker down, even with (or because) of our new understanding, and decide that "God obviously can do this, but there's no way He'd do that." It's as if he just put up a frame and a roof on our new house, but we don't think he's qualified to do the plumbing as well; especially if we've always handled the plumbing ourselves.

Conforming is easier because we have a sense of when we look like the other items on the shelf; transforming is harder because we're continually changing as the Master Potter spins, shapes and elongates, perhaps even adds a handle. Yet in effect we'll say, "No, please, I'll just stay a salad bowl. I never thought I could even be a salad bowl, but please don't turn me into an urn." Ceasing to conform and beginning to transform usually means throwing out some old thought or doctrine we had in favor of a new revelation; but it's as if we think that there was only one or two thoughts or doctrines that needed to change.

It's amazing how quickly we become expert theologians, even as the potter says, "You ain't seen nothing yet, Lumpy."

Posted on April 5, 2009. 0 Comments 0 Trackbacks

Lumpy, part 2

by The Night Writer

A short time ago I wrote a brief post about Romans 12:2, comparing our lives to a lump of clay either conformed by the world or transformed by God; either squeezed or pressed into a mold or filled and expanded as if by a hand reaching inside us as we spin to bow us into a bowl or vase or some useful vessel.

One thing I didn't note at the time is that in both cases, the lump of clay has very little say in what it gets turned into. Conformity is a matter of channeling our thinking, while transformation is a matter of renewing our mind (or having it renewed) so that those channels are overflowed. We might go along with either activity but once we submit to either we don't know just how it will turn out.

Not that we don't try, especially when it comes to the transforming/expanding touch of God the Father. Having spent our lives conformed, we almost can't help ourselves from repeating the process as we are being transformed. At first we are in awe of what God has done and is doing, especially when we are aware of the quality of the material that He's working with. All too soon, however, it seems we can't resist trying to shape God into something that suits our purpose instead of the other way around.

A little bit of revelation, or a transcendant, even miraculous, experience can seem like our destination rather than just a signpost on our way. When God wants to continue to work in our life we'll still instinctively hunker down, even with (or because) of our new understanding, and decide that "God obviously can do this, but there's no way He'd do that." It's as if he just put up a frame and a roof on our new house, but we don't think he's qualified to do the plumbing as well; especially if we've always handled the plumbing ourselves.

Conforming is easier because we have a sense of when we look like the other items on the shelf; transforming is harder because we're continually changing as the Master Potter spins, shapes and elongates, perhaps even adds a handle. Yet in effect we'll say, "No, please, I'll just stay a salad bowl. I never thought I could even be a salad bowl, but please don't turn me into an urn." Ceasing to conform and beginning to transform usually means throwing out some old thought or doctrine we had in favor of a new revelation; but it's as if we think that there was only one or two thoughts or doctrines that needed to change.

It's amazing how quickly we become expert theologians, even as the potter says, "You ain't seen nothing yet, Lumpy."

Posted on April 5, 2009. 0 Comments 0 Trackbacks

Thursday, April 2, 2009

An early Father's Day

by The Night Writer

There is a lot of commentary back and forth following Tuesday's post about the German family seeking political asylum in the U.S. so that they can have the freedom to home-educate their children. This has had me thinking of the role of parents, and of fathers, and reminded me of something that happened at our March Inside Outfitters meeting.

This is the monthly men's breakfast and teaching that has been drawing a large group of men from Minnesota Teen Challenge, a residential drug rehabilitation program. Last month we were at my partner Earl's church for the meeting and Earl shared a message aimed at the men who had grown up without a positive male role model in their lives. He described the hurt and frustration of knowing you were missing something but not being sure what it was, and of the resulting anger and defensiveness that caused so many men to reject God the Father and to understand what it meant to be instructed and guided.

Earl is one who knows first-hand what that is like. He grew up with a violent, abusive father who was still highly respected as a deacon in their church. Earl's heart hardened with each outrage as he and his brother, sisters and mother absorbed each outburst. He grew violent himself and turned violently to crime and to drug and sexual abuse. He eventually found himself in Minnesota's maximum security prison, where the gentle spirit of a visiting pastor finally showed him who is real father is and set him on the path to becoming a pastor himself. As he finished his message, he told the men that God has plans for each of them and they need to be open to receive instruction and blessing and set aside the anger and hurt that was getting in the way. Then he did something kind of unusual. He invited my pastor and I to come up front with him, then he invited the men (some in their 30s and 40s) who hadn't ever had a word of support or acceptance from their own fathers to view the three of us as stand-ins, and to approach and receive that word from us.

About 40 men came forward, some almost staggering, and divided into three lines. As each man facing me approached I wrapped my arms around his shoulders or pulled his head down towards mine and said, "I'm proud of you. You're doing the right thing." Some started to shake so hard that it was difficult to hold them up. Many wept openly. I got pretty misty myself. As we finished I went over to Earl and put my arm across his shoulders and addressed the group.

"I didn't have a father like Earl's father," I said. "He had his outbursts and his moments, but I always knew he loved me and supported me and I know the sacrifices he made for me." I added, "I've thought from time to time how our lives might have been different if Earl had had my father and I had had his as we grew up. Where would I be today, and where would Earl be, if that had been the case?"

I paused to let that settle a bit. It was dead quiet. "Where would we be today?"

My pastor spoke: "You'd both be right where you are now, doing what you're doing."

"Exactly," I said, "because God the Father's plan is greater than anything we, or you, might have missed or might have done. You have the same opportunity — and He's proud of you."

Posted on April 2, 2009. 1 Comments 0 Trackbacks

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Picture this: Yo, Lumpy

by The Night Writer

"Take me, mold me,
Use me, fill me,
I give my life into the Potter's hand..."

Singing this song always makes me think of Romans 12:2: And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God.

If you take a lump of clay into your hands your tendency is to squeeze it and roll it, perhaps making a little face out of it as you kind of doodle with your fingers. If you picture our lives as a lump of clay introduced into the world we can quickly see how all the outside forces in our lives try to shape and conform us to some image, squeezing and pressing us with things as diverse as fashion or politics or family expectations, or TV commercials, or our schooling. Everything, it seems, seeks to conform us to some earthly standard of what is acceptable, whether it's your friends, your job, your gang, your political party — even your church. How the pressure is applied determines the shape our conformation takes on.

But there's another way to shape clay. A potter can place a lump on a wheel and get the wheel spinning and in doing so begins to bring smoothness and balance to our lump and then, rather than conform, something transforming happens as the potter reaches into the spinning clay and cups his fingers outward, causing the little ball of clay to suddenly bloom outward and expand, displacing clay with air. Depending on the potter's vision, the transformed lump could become a bowl, a pot, a vase or an urn.

Similarly, when our thinking is conformed to the world we are squeezed into something smaller and denser, our minds grooved and compressed by repetition. When we are transformed by allowing our minds to be renewed — to begin to grasp what has previously been beyond our imagination — however, we get bigger and can hold things; rather than being something to look at we become something useful.

The song above describes God as the Potter, and in my analogy you can see God reaching into us, increasing our capacity, making us fit for bigger, better things. Of course, we still have to be fired in the kiln, the trial bringing out our colors while making our final shape stronger (seeking to pull out of the fire too soon, however, and you're left with a fragile, untrustworthy object).

But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us.
— 2 Corinthians 4:7

Posted on March 22, 2009. 2 Comments 0 Trackbacks

Picture this: Yo, Lumpy

by The Night Writer

"Take me, mold me,
Use me, fill me,
I give my life into the Potter's hand..."

Singing this song always makes me think of Romans 12:2: And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God.

If you take a lump of clay into your hands your tendency is to squeeze it and roll it, perhaps making a little face out of it as you kind of doodle with your fingers. If you picture our lives as a lump of clay introduced into the world we can quickly see how all the outside forces in our lives try to shape and conform us to some image, squeezing and pressing us with things as diverse as fashion or politics or family expectations, or TV commercials, or our schooling. Everything, it seems, seeks to conform us to some earthly standard of what is acceptable, whether it's your friends, your job, your gang, your political party — even your church. How the pressure is applied determines the shape our conformation takes on.

But there's another way to shape clay. A potter can place a lump on a wheel and get the wheel spinning and in doing so begins to bring smoothness and balance to our lump and then, rather than conform, something transforming happens as the potter reaches into the spinning clay and cups his fingers outward, causing the little ball of clay to suddenly bloom outward and expand, displacing clay with air. Depending on the potter's vision, the transformed lump could become a bowl, a pot, a vase or an urn.

Similarly, when our thinking is conformed to the world we are squeezed into something smaller and denser, our minds grooved and compressed by repetition. When we are transformed by allowing our minds to be renewed — to begin to grasp what has previously been beyond our imagination — however, we get bigger and can hold things; rather than being something to look at we become something useful.

The song above describes God as the Potter, and in my analogy you can see God reaching into us, increasing our capacity, making us fit for bigger, better things. Of course, we still have to be fired in the kiln, the trial bringing out our colors while making our final shape stronger (seeking to pull out of the fire too soon, however, and you're left with a fragile, untrustworthy object).

But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us.
— 2 Corinthians 4:7

Posted on March 22, 2009. 2 Comments 0 Trackbacks

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

More than a feeling

by The Night Writer

You know those times when you see something so good, so right, happen —or read about it, or hear about it — and that warm-feeling comes over you? It could be more than a feeling.

There's a fascinating piece by Brian "St Paul" Ward of Fraters Libertas as he refers to a couple of other articles that have picked up on the fact that people, well, "pick up" on certain things that are good and true.

Ebert cites a Slate article from December, which cites a book called "Born to Be Good" by psychologist Dacher Keltner, who is studying this emotion, called "elevation." From the Slate article:

Keltner writes that he believes when we experience transcendence, it stimulates our vagus nerve, causing "a feeling of spreading, liquid warmth in the chest and a lump in the throat."

Elevation has always existed but has just moved out of the realm of philosophy and religion and been recognized as a distinct emotional state and a subject for psychological study. Psychology has long focused on what goes wrong, but in the past decade there has been an explosion of interest in "positive psychology" — what makes us feel good and why. University of Virginia moral psychologist Jonathan Haidt, who coined the term elevation, writes, "Powerful moments of elevation sometimes seem to push a mental 'reset button,' wiping out feelings of cynicism and replacing them with feelings of hope, love, and optimism, and a sense of moral inspiration."

We come to elevation, Haidt writes, through observing others — their strength of character, virtue, or "moral beauty." Elevation evokes in us "a desire to become a better person, or to lead a better life."

Of course, Ebert, Keltner and Haight attribute this to something cultural or that has evolved in mankind. As I read that section, however, I immediately recognized it as something very familiar; something that Brain and I both recognized as spiritual:

That strikes me as accurate, except for the focus on its sole origin as the actions of others. On occasion, I have experienced elevation with regard to an individuals' actions, typically a selfless act of kindness or sacrifice. But more often, it's been an emotion evoked by a broader idea or concept. And this can come not only words, but also an images or music. Movies, books, recordings, as well have people have caused it for me. As such, I never centered on any person involved. Rather, I've come to interpret it as a instance of revealing an essential truth. The truth of how we're supposed to live our lives. In the video above, for example, "let's not kill our children," said in a beautiful and simple manner.

Getting close to truth is another way of saying getting close to God. So, this feeling of elevation has a religious meaning for me. I assumed this interpretation would be universal, irrefutable. Yet, the Ebert and Slate articles never even mention the possibility. Instead, they cite as examples of those bringing elevation the pop culture trinity of Barack Obama, Michael Jordan, and Oprah Winfrey.

Yes, I've felt and enjoyed "elevation" in watching certain movies or reading certain books or hearing certain speakers, but I've also felt it most profoundly when infused by a Trinity that's anything but pop. How ironic, it appears to me, that the learned experts can walk right up to the edge of revelation and stop themselves just short, as if it were a cliff they dare not let themselves go over.

Amazon's editorial synopsis of Keltner's book includes the following description (emphasis mine): "A new examination of the surprising origins of human goodness. In Born to Be Good, Dacher Keltner demonstrates that humans are not hardwired to lead lives that are 'nasty, brutish, and short'— we are in fact born to be good. He investigates an old mystery of human evolution: why have we evolved positive emotions like gratitude, amusement, awe, and compassion that promote ethical action and are the fabric of cooperative societies?"

Evolved? Could, perhaps, those emotions have been implanted in us by God? Could they even be the essence of what "being created in the likeness and image of" means? That is, not so much a physical likeness but a spiritual harmonic that resonates in the presence of goodness? I have been suddenly "elevated" while singing praises to God, or in the midst of praying for someone, or when a revelation crystallizes suddenly in my half-alert mind. It doesn't happen every time I do these things; in fact it usually happens when I'm not expecting it to. In the middle of a song that we've sung dozens of times, for example, or in half-way through praying for someone when — whoosh elevation! (Actually, in our circles, we call it "anointing") It seems to wait for that split-second when I stop thinking about myself to manifest itself and I know that I've made a different kind of connection, or been a conduit for one.

It's not a self-congratulatory wave of emotion from taking pride in my doing something "good", either; in fact, that kind of thought quenches the feeling immediately. It's another demonstration of what St. Paul (the apostle, not Brian) wrote when he urged us not to be "conformed" to the world and all of its selfishness, but to be "transformed" by the "renewing of our minds" when we ever-so-briefly touch something larger than ourselves.

Posted on February 3, 2009. 2 Comments 0 Trackbacks

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Picture this: Surrender, Dorothy

by The Night Writer

We're not in Kansas any more. Actually, I've never lived in Kansas but I thought about Kansas today during praise & worship at church. Well, what I was thinking about was "the rock" of my foundation and how important it is to build my house on the rock instead of shifting sand. So how does Kansas enter into this? Bear with me a moment.

In my last post I referenced Jesus' parable of the man who builds his house on the solid rock vs. the man who builds on shifting sand and how these homes fare when the rains, floods and winds come along. As an analogy I described the rain as being the economy (dampening everything), the floods as what washes away our job or business and the winds as the stresses that come along in the storm that and batter us (perhaps in our relationships, or health), adding to the destruction. Jesus suggested we "build" our homes — or lives — on something that can't be shaken and I've tried to renew my thinking over the years in order to do that. And that's when I thought of Kansas.

You see, in "The Wizard of Oz", when the twister appears on the Kansas horizon, Auntie Em and the others don't have a basement in the farmhouse to run to. Instead they have a detached root or storm cellar for emergencies. When that picture appeared in my mind it made me realize that there are probably areas in my life where I've built near my foundation but not actually upon it; things that look solid and even Biblical and may even be good, but are not built on that key foundation. "Doctrines of man" might be an example of this. Meanwhile, we take for granted the thing with the solid foundation, perhaps using it for storage or our convenience, almost forgetting what it's there for.

The thing is, when the storms and the wind come, the things I've built near the foundation — good, bad or indifferent — will blow away. The question I have to answer, then, is whether or not I'll chase after those things that are blowing down the road (after all, I've likely put a lot of time and effort into these) or if I'll look for people still out in the storm and try to wave them over into shelter.

What would you do?

Posted on January 25, 2009. 0 Comments 0 Trackbacks

Picture this: Surrender, Dorothy

by The Night Writer

We're not in Kansas any more. Actually, I've never lived in Kansas but I thought about Kansas today during praise & worship at church. Well, what I was thinking about was "the rock" of my foundation and how important it is to build my house on the rock instead of shifting sand. So how does Kansas enter into this? Bear with me a moment.

In my last post I referenced Jesus' parable of the man who builds his house on the solid rock vs. the man who builds on shifting sand and how these homes fare when the rains, floods and winds come along. As an analogy I described the rain as being the economy (dampening everything), the floods as what washes away our job or business and the winds as the stresses that come along in the storm that and batter us (perhaps in our relationships, or health), adding to the destruction. Jesus suggested we "build" our homes — or lives — on something that can't be shaken and I've tried to renew my thinking over the years in order to do that. And that's when I thought of Kansas.

You see, in "The Wizard of Oz", when the twister appears on the Kansas horizon, Auntie Em and the others don't have a basement in the farmhouse to run to. Instead they have a detached root or storm cellar for emergencies. When that picture appeared in my mind it made me realize that there are probably areas in my life where I've built near my foundation but not actually upon it; things that look solid and even Biblical and may even be good, but are not built on that key foundation. "Doctrines of man" might be an example of this. Meanwhile, we take for granted the thing with the solid foundation, perhaps using it for storage or our convenience, almost forgetting what it's there for.

The thing is, when the storms and the wind come, the things I've built near the foundation — good, bad or indifferent — will blow away. The question I have to answer, then, is whether or not I'll chase after those things that are blowing down the road (after all, I've likely put a lot of time and effort into these) or if I'll look for people still out in the storm and try to wave them over into shelter.

What would you do?

Posted on January 25, 2009. 0 Comments 0 Trackbacks

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Of bubbles, bread, seeds and cookies

by The Night Writer

One of the characteristics of the dearly remembered housing boom was the sprouting of "McMansions" in former cornfields or alongside golf courses. These were very cool looking homes and we enjoyed touring these during the Parade of Homes, especially those listed at $1 million or more.

It made for an afternoon's diversion and fantasy, but you had to wonder at some of the value represented. A salesperson was showing us around one $750k model townhome and as we were admiring the well-appointed family room the resident in the home that shared a common wall flushed the toilet. We knew this because we could clearly hear the water running through the pipes and the tank refilling. This is not an unusual experience when you live in an apartment or a townhouse, but not a big selling feature if you're going to spend $750k. Other times we'd tour a million dollar home with Ben, who is an experienced carpenter, and watch as he pointed out subtle mistakes in fit and finish. In one case there was painted over evidence of a load-bearing wall not doing it's duty, likely as a result of a problem with the foundation.

I think of these things, and foundations, in the burst residue of the housing and mortgage bubble as the entire economy sags like the wings of a great house falling toward the basement because the center-beam wasn't set as well as you might think. It's the latest demonstration of the Biblical exhortation to build your home on solid rock and not on shifting sand. Of course, the Bible is using the house as a metaphor, as am I. Let's review Matthew 7:24-27:

"Therefore whoever hears these sayings of Mine, and does them, I will liken him to a wise man who built his house on the rock: and the rain descended, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house; and it did not fall, for it was founded on the rock.

"But everyone who hears these sayings of Mine, and does not do them, will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand: and the rain descended, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house; and it fell. And great was its fall."

Doesn't that sound familiar, and in more ways than one? Allow me to extend the metaphor into an analogy: today's economy is the rain, and the effects of it in our lives are the floods, and the wind is the additional adversities that come to challenge our faith and make us doubt what we are standing upon, or whether the rock is enough to save us.

We have to build with storms in mind, an outlook almost completely lacking in the latest run-up as people seemed to assume that storms had become extinct and that those sets of conditions would continue in perpetuity (just as some now assume the current situation is forever). What is the housing bubble, or any bubble, all about but value driven by high expectations rather than intrinsic worth, or the greater fool theory? In those conditions you're not building a foundation on a rock; you're not even building it on sand which can at least be heavy — you're building it on something as flimsy and as easily popped as a bubble. And great is the fall.

(Click here to continue reading this post.)

Posted on January 22, 2009. 4 Comments 0 Trackbacks

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

What we did for Thanksgiving vacation

by The Night Writer

Last March the Mall Diva, Tiger Lilly and Ben went with me down to Missouri when I bought my dad's truck from my mom. While we were down there we visited my mom's 92-year-old mother, Grammy, at the assisted-living center where she had a small apartment. We ended up sitting in the larger common room that featured a piano and several hymn books. As we visited the Diva and Ben flipped through some of the hymn books and spontaneously sang the ones they recognized. By the end of our visit there were several residents casually sitting in the common room, not-so-casually inclining their ears toward the singers.

Since then my grandmother has moved to a nursing home, one that also cares for my other grandmother, Elizabeth (or "Lizey") who is 101 years old. When Grammy learned we were bringing Ben down for Thanksgiving this year she let it be known that she would be quite the impresario at her new home if Ben and the girls could come and sing hymns again for the group. Not a problem; a time was set for the Friday after Thanksgiving and we even recruited the Diva's best friend and singing partner to come along on the road trip. Once in Missouri one of my nephews joined the choir as well and the youngsters rehearsed about a dozen hymns in and around the feasting on Thursday.

Earlier in the day I had gone to the nursing home with my mother to bring her mom back to the house for the holiday. Her room is right by the large, cheery common room and as we walked through it a man, presumably a preacher, was sermonizing to a group of residents in wheelchairs about how they should be thankful for their infirmities because these were what made them strong. Fortunately for him and the peace of the home he was at the far side of the room because I felt an overwhelming urge to smack him so he'd have something to be thankful for.

24 hours later we had our little choir set up in the same corner of the big room and a group of about two dozen residents arrayed in front of the kids and the electronic piano we'd carried in with us. My part, aside from carrying the piano, was to greet the assembly and introduce the singers and share a little of why we were there, mentioning that my grandmothers were among their fellow residents. I also reminded them that the Bible tells us that God inhabits the praises of his people and what are hymns but praise to God so they shouldn't be surprised or concerned if they felt a presence during the singing.

It was a beautiful performance with everyone in fine voice and I stood to the side and watched the residents smiling and bobbing their heads; some even raised their arms over their heads at times during the music, and a couple of ladies wheeled themselves right up in front of the piano. The hymns were all old standards, "How Great Thou Art," "There is a Fountain," "It Is Well With My Soul" and more. After about 30 minutes I told the group that we were pleased and honored to be before them, and that I was thankful in this week of Thanksgiving for the godly example and prayers that my grandmothers, their neighbors, had sown into my life — even if, at times, it didn't look as if they were having any affect. I also told the gathered men and women that while their bodies might not be as strong as they once were, I knew that their prayers were still as powerful as ever and that our informal choir was going to sing a Christmas song in honor of the one who came that our prayers might find their "yes" in him. I concluded by saying, "When the song is finished, each of the singers and my wife and I will move out among you and if there is anything you want prayer for concerning yourself or your loved ones, we will be happy to pray with you." Then the Mall Diva and her friend sang "Oh Holy Night."

Sometimes when you offer to pray for someone he or she will pull back a little, but from what I saw the group was eager and happy to receive whatever our little group could offer. I know there was no hesitation in the people I prayed with, including a woman who was very emotional over the death of her husband earlier in the week. Similarly, I felt none of my usual self-conciousness as I knelt or stooped by the ones nearest to me, and I certainly had little time for or awareness of the aches and infirmities of my own age, which seemed pretty minor in front of this congregation.

After I'd prayed for three people I saw that our group had reached everyone in the room, and I'd even received a request for the hymn, "Just As I Am". I didn't know the song, but our singers did so they re-gathered and sang that as well. Missing throughout the program, however, was my other grandmother, Lizey. She's pretty much out of it most of the time now and sleeps as if the last century or so has left her worn out, which it likely has. We asked the attendants if it would be okay to go to her room and if the young ones could sing for her even if she was asleep. We were told to go right ahead.

My grandmother was asleep and I was a little anxious to see that her roommate, Wanda, was also asleep, though sitting up in a recliner with an afghan in her lap. Nevertheless my daughters, Ben, Casii and both of my nephews stood close together and softly sang through all the verses of "It Is Well With My Soul." Grandma didn't awake though her face seemed to relax. Meanwhile I was standing closer to Wanda and my mother and I saw her nodding her head and moving her lips during the song, though she never opened her eyes.

It was a great experience to be able to go in and do something like this, and to see the brightness in the eyes of those we ministered to. I confess to a bit of pride, as well, to see the talents and gracious hearts of my daughters who were so willing and ministered so easily.
We enjoyed the rest of the day with my family and drove back to Minnesota on Saturday. Sunday my mother emailed me with the news that Wanda, who had moved her head and lips during the song, had begun to struggle on Saturday and was taken to the hospital. She passed away Sunday morning.

My mother ended her email: "It's a good thought that maybe the last thing she comprehended and responded to was the kids' music."

Posted on December 9, 2008. 0 Comments 0 Trackbacks

Thursday, November 6, 2008

It goes on

by The Night Writer

Wednesday's Writer's Almanac featured a poem by Bruce Taylor entitled "Middle-Aged Men, Leaning." It begins:

They lean on rakes.
It's late, it is evening
already inside their houses.

The children are gone.
Their wives are on the phone
talking softly to someone else.

This frost, this early Fall
upon their minds, a small
measure of patience and regard

as if the twilight world
in bright papery pieces
diminished so and thus.

It caught my attention because my fingers and palms are still sore from all the yard work we did last weekend; yard work that had me leaning on rakes and shovels as well as standing on ladders, wrangling in brush piles and wrestling with awnings. It was a lot of hard, dirty work but we were blessed with an extended stretch of early September at the end of October, giving us the time we desperately needed to get the yard ready to host the Mall Diva's upcoming nuptials in the spring.

While Tiger Lilly, my wife and I worked on the gardens the Mall Diva and Ben cleared out the four flower beds in front of the house and planted tulip bulbs, happy in the thought of the rewards for their labor regardless of whatever hardships and depradations should be visited upon these by the winter, the squirrels or the administration.

A long, cold season may be ahead but there's so much promise on the other side of it. I've lived through many a winter now and quite a few temporal seasons of hope and change -- some of which even almost worked. I take any and all forecasts with as many grains of salt as I'll eventually pour on my sidewalk in the months ahead, but one thing I know for certain is that the head of my government has decreed that seedtime and harvest shall not cease as long as the earth remains.

Posted on November 6, 2008. 1 Comments 0 Trackbacks

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Name your price

by The Night Writer

“Right is still right, even if nobody is doing it. Wrong is still wrong, even if everybody is doing it.”
–- St. Augustine

Tuesday's post about the role and necessity of hope reminded me of something I wrote way back in the early days of this blog about having integrity. Having hope is an important part of being a person of character and integrity because it gives you a vision for the future and a picture of what you want to be like. One of the reasons that hopelessness, on the other hand, removes moral restraint is because a fatalistic outlook sees no benefit in the present for not taking the easiest path or pursuing the most gratifying action.

In my old post I used the story of a man I knew of whose hope -- and integrity -- didn't fail him in a time of great stress. It's a great illustration of how doing the right thing can not only bring peace but triumph and I hope it is an encouragement for all who read it. Here's the main part of the original piece:

Have you ever struggled to do the right thing on your job or in your business while it seemed like everyone else was getting ahead doing the wrong thing?

Several years ago I talked at length with a man by the name of Ronnie Carroll who had an amazing story. In the late '80s Ronnie owned a satellite TV dealership in Tallahassee, FL. This is a great business to be in in that part of Florida because it is almost impossible to get TV reception there unless you have a dish.

Ronnie was having a tough time, however, because he was the only dealer in the area who refused to sell illegal decoders that allowed folks to unscramble HBO and the like without having to pay a fee. His potential customers would hear his policy and go on down the road and buy their equipment from a dealer that would also sell them the pirate decoders.

For months Ronnie watched business go out the door. He eventually had to close his shop and try to operate his business from his home. Ronnie prayed throughout the winter, asking God to "judge his cause" and seeking direction on whether he should find another line of business.

That spring a couple of gentlemen from the FCC showed up at Ronnie's door. They said that Washington had made it a priority to crack down on illegal decoders and they were starting in his area. Their investigation had already shown that Ronnie was the only dealer in the area who wasn’t selling the devices and they wanted him to be in charge of collecting the pirate decoders. All dish owners were being told they had a 30-day grace period to turn in their outlaw decoders and pay Ronnie a $300 "disposal fee" or face prosecution. Simultaneously many of his one-time competitors were facing prosecution themselves and were going to find it hard to stay in business.

It also turned out that the company that made the bootleg devices also made legal decoders. Since the dishes wouldn’t work without some kind of decoder the FCC required the manufacturer to provide Ronnie with a line of credit to buy legal decoders to sell to the people turning in their outlaw equipment.

"Overnight," Ronnie said, "I suddenly had people crammed in my living room and lined up down my driveway to turn in their devices and buy new decoders and subscriptions. There were judges, lawyers and police officers in line. I bought a sign that said, 'As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord,' and put it by my front door." Immediately Ronnie’s business went from barely surviving to grossing more than $80,000 a month. Several newspapers and television stations interviewed him and he shared his story with all he talked to. When I last talked to him years ago his business was still thriving.

One moral to this story is that God doesn’t move quickly: He moves suddenly. It may not look like anything is going on, but His blessing is already on the way and in one moment to the next everything can change. Heaven forbid that the moment right before that is when we give in. When the FCC rang Ronnie’s doorbell he no doubt thought it was a bill collector, and not the answer to his prayers. We need to expect God’s faithfulness, and don’t let our actions or attitudes succumb to what appears to be reality.

What is the price you put on your honesty and integrity? Will you sell it – like Esau – for some piddling and short-term gain? We live in a world full of hustlers, always trying to shade themselves a little edge here and there. The dismaying thing to me is not that this happens, but for what little amounts people are willing to trade their name and integrity. The thing about a path that is straight and narrow is that there are no corners we can cut and still stay on it.

Proverbs 22:1 says, "A good name is more desirable than great riches; to be esteemed is better than silver or gold." Temptation is always around to provide opportunity and justification; when exposed to the light, however, these justifications are shown to be flimsy and selfish. Likewise, we may not see the true value of our reputation until we ourselves are exposed, and by then it's too late. What we get never seems equal to what we give up. Indeed, it is "too late" the moment we cheat, not the moment we get caught.

Integrity is not something that can be taken away from us -– we can only give it away. We need to be careful that in our efforts to make a name for ourselves that we don’t end up giving that name away.

Posted on October 23, 2008. 1 Comments 0 Trackbacks

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

The Perspicacity of Hope

by The Night Writer

The following is the text of a message I delivered to our monthly "Inside Outfitters" men's group; a group that typically includes 50-60 men of all ages from Minnesota Teen Challenge a faith-based residential drug and alcohol recovery program.

Somewhere or another I heard someone waxing eloquently about having the audacity to hope. Those seemed to me to be strange words to combine since the definition of audacity includes references such as "reckless" and "rash". While hope may be criticized or extolled, mocked or encouraged, it is not reckless or foolish. Hope is also both dangerous and endangered and the times we're living through seem almost engineered to crush hope.

This suggests to me that hope has never been more important, or more of a threat to the status quo. Rather than "audacity" we should endorse the perspicacity of hope. What do I mean by that (literally, what do I mean)?

(I'm hoping you'll click here and read the rest.)

Posted on October 21, 2008. 2 Comments 0 Trackbacks

Monday, August 18, 2008

Filings: Man on the Street

by The Night Writer

(About "Filings":)

One morning last week I was walking the five blocks from the train to my office, pretty much just thinking about the day ahead. As I waited at the first corner with a crowd of pedestrians for the light to change, an older black man standing in front of me turned around and looked at me, then said, "God bless you."

"And God bless you, too," I said, a little surprised but not really uncomfortable even though I could smell the strong scent of alcohol coming from him as he turned back around. I know from the times I've spent with the guys in the Teen Challenge program how much they hated, when they were on the street, how people wouldn't look at them because of their color, or their raggedyness, or both. Since then I've tried to make it a habit to acknowledge people with my eyes when they cross my path.

The man was standing with two other rather scruffy looking guys. He turned to me again as the light changed and the crowd moved across the street, the two scruffy guys and my fellow pedestrians subtly leaving a bubble around me and my new friend as we got the inevitable request for money out of the way (which I declined). He then started a rambling description of his birthday being January 1, and how nobody believes that, and how Jesus walks with him, and nobody believes that either. "Do you you believe Jesus walks with me?" he asked.

"I believe Jesus lives inside us," I replied.

"Does he live inside you?"

"Yes, he does."

He went on talking about Jesus following him everywhere. By now Jesus was the only one who could have been in spitting distance of us. I was feeling very much at peace, though, interjecting a comment every so often to let him know I was listening. We got to the corner where my office is and my friend was asking me if Jesus walked beside me. I told him that I believe Jesus said he would never leave us or forsake us, that he would be with us everywhere we go. Then I got bold, though I still felt peaceful.

"I believe Jesus is walking beside you," I said. "The problem is, you've been taking him into a lot of places he doesn't want to go. I wonder," I said, "what would happen if you started to follow him for a little while instead of having him follow you?" For the first time in our conversation he was still and quiet. I put out my hand. He took it.

"I believe you when you say you were born on January 1. I believe that is a symbol from God that you can make a new beginning, but you don't have to wait for your birthday."

There at the corner of Washington and Marquette I put my other hand on his shoulder and began to pray out loud, thanking God for the man's life and for bringing us together and for the plans that God had for him. I prayed that God would open doors for him that no man could close and that he would close doors that no man could open. I said "Amen" and dropped my left hand. He stood there with a surprised look on his face.

"Thank you," he said, softly. Then louder, "Thank you very much! God bless you!" Then he turned and walked away.

Now I harbor no illusions that that interlude will turn that man's life around, but I know God has done greater things. Neither do I have any doubt that I was supposed to meet that man that day. As for myself, I got quite a lift from the unexpected meeting, and I wondered at the peace and confidence I had felt. I hadn't been self-conscious at all about anyone else around us, or put off by the man's appearance or condition. Believe me, that is not my usual demeanor! I felt at first as if I had just done something the way my pastor would've done it, and then I realized that perhaps I had done it the way Jesus would have — without a thought or care but for the man he had just met.

That may all be very nice but I also realized that, while I likely won't know the impact I made on the other guy, that God wanted to show me something. I, too, am guilty — in both thought and actions — of taking Jesus into places sometimes that perhaps he doesn't want to go. In fact, I can go hours without even being aware of him beside me. As the morning went on I was simultaneously buoyed by the experience and humbled that I was able to experience it. I didn't really grasp the biggest lesson, however, until yesterday when it finally dawned on me.

The experience felt great and was stimulating because it was different, out of the ordinary. It finally hit me, yesterday, that in fact it shouldn't be that out of the ordinary at all. Jesus didn't spend a lot of time in church, but was usually out walking, going from one place to another, meeting the people he was supposed to meet, touching their lives with his presence. The same Jesus walks with me, wanting to do the same thing if I will let him; not by preaching sermons or trying to get people to say a prayer so they can be "saved", but simply touching their lives with a word or a touch that communicates his love for them, showing — as Romans 2:4 says — "the goodness of God that leads people to repentance."

I want to feel that lift that I felt that day much more often.

Posted on August 18, 2008. 5 Comments 0 Trackbacks

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Life Shepherds

by The Night Writer

"Now I'm thinkin': it could mean you're the evil man. And I'm the righteous man. And Mr. 9mm here, he's the shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or it could be you're the righteous man and I'm the shepherd and it's the world that's evil and selfish. I'd like that. But that ain't the truth. The truth is you're the weak. And I'm the tyranny of evil men. But I'm tryin', Ringo. I'm tryin' real hard to be a shepherd."
- Samuel L. Jackson as "Jules" in Pulp Fiction

I didn’t start seeing the words “life coach” until I began following the Manival. Many of the blog contributors to that weekly carnival describe themselves as a life coach. I have nothing against the title as a profession or a hobby, but seeing those words made me think, “Why don’t people just get a pastor?”

The word pastor means shepherd, and I've had the same pastor for more than 20 years now. He, along with who and what he represents, have played an important role in my thinking and actions today. His teaching and his example have greatly contributed to the success of my marriage, my relationships with my kids and my employers and co-workers, my finances and has provided me with the peace and confidence to channel the abilities that were given to me into new and positive areas. Of course I realize that not everyone has this same advantage, though I consider it to be a necessity rather than a luxury. It makes me even more appreciative of the "coaching" that I've received.

Isn't this what you'd want in a coach — a teacher, exhorter, advisor, someone to comfort you in the trials and discomfort you when you're getting complacent? I have been led into green pastures and to still waters and in the paths of righteousness. My soul has been comforted, even when it looked as if I was surrounded by things that wanted to kill my spirit, and I have sat comfortably at the table with my enemes, willing and able to share goodness and mercy.

Of course what some might call coaching, and others might call mentoring, the church calls discipleship. And one of the things that I've been taught is that even as I am continually discipled I need to be always reaching out and discipling others. As I continue to learn and grow I need to be willing to help others do the same. It’s become so engrained in me that I hardly notice that I’m doing it, but I can see it in the interactions I have with our multiple-church men’s group, the “Fundamentals in Film” class I’ve been doing for more than two years with a group of teen-age boys, and the upcoming “How to be Marriageable” group, and in some of the surprising relationships that have developed in my life. Futhermore, while my blog is mainly for my own amusement, it also plays a role in this.

Even so, like Jules in the quote above, I sometimes have to try real hard to get out of my comfort zones, habits and selfishness to be a shepherd, and that's where having an older, more experienced shepherd comes in handy. That, too, however requires letting go of some selfishness, or at least, self-interest. I've not been one who lays down his pride easily or who likes to admit that I don't have all the answers — at least not audibly. Oh sure, I can curse myself and my perceived failings to no end internally or under my breath, but admitting it out loud is a lot harder. I think that's not an uncommon attitude and probably the biggest reason so many people have not allowed themselves to be discipled/mentored/coached. It's all too easy and common to merely want everyone else to change while we stay the same.

And we're deceived, of course. The fact is we will all be discipled by someone or something, even if we don't realize that it's happening. The only choice we have is deciding who/what it is we will follow.

I figure that I've probably got enough experience (good and bad), accumulated wisdom and random revelation to hang out a shingle as a Life Coach, but I don't know if that's something I want to be, professionally, as opposed to something I just do day-in and day-out with whoever happens to be coming along. I do have a well-paying corporate drone job that I’ve thought of ditching from time to time. It more than covers our bills, however, which allows me the time and freedom to pursue these other activities that are more satisfying, if apparently unremunerative. I suppose I could try to do these things professionally but most of the people I’ve become connected with aren’t in a position to “pay” me in ways that the mortgage company and Visa recognize.

I don't know that I'll ever "go pro" — especially when it's been so much fun to be an enthusiastic amateur!

Posted on July 9, 2008. 2 Comments 0 Trackbacks

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

A question of, or about, faith (or Faith)

by The Night Writer

A commenter on my last post, Uncle Raven — someone who has known my wife and I for some time — asked a great question in relation to my review of "Expelled".

In the context of Evolution vs. ID or Big Science vs. Faith, do you believe the conception and birth of your girls was an event whose only adequate explanation is the extraordinary and direct intervention of God? Or do you allow for the possibility of Bad Science, i.e., that the RM's physician misdiagnosed her condition? And, if that's possible, how would it effect your beliefs?

Here's my response (actually it should be my wife's response because a great deal of it his her story, which I'm relating second hand because she'd gone to bed):

First, just to focus on our conception for the moment, my wife had had endometriosis several years before the two of us met. Her ob-gyn diagnosed it, treated it and performed surgery. Because of the place where she was in her life then and the things in her past that she was dealing with, she was sure she never wanted to have children anyway and told her doctor to tie her tubes as long as he was in there working on things. Which he did. Several years went by and the surgery was, well, shown to be effective at everything it was meant to do. During that time, however, she also found herself turning to God (since nothing else was working). Her heartfelt prayer eventually became, "God I want your will more than my own," and "God, change me."

She didn't know what she was asking. We were married in October of 1987 (Uncle Raven was there) and pregnant in November. Did my wife fall to her knees, praising God for this miracle? No, she did not. She was not pleased, to say the least, because she was still of a mind that she didn't want children. I won't side-track into the things she (and I to some extent) went through over the next several months, but suffice it to say that she remembered what she had been praying — and we named our first daughter Faith. Five years later we deliberately set out to have a second child. We were very pleased with the way things had worked out with the first one and so we made a list of the sex (girl) and character traits and disposition we wanted in #2 and prayed together to become pregnant and for these traits to appear in her. At the very end of our prayer, and almost as a lark, my wife said, "Oh, and God, red hair and blue eyes would be really cute, Amen!" During the ensuing pregnancy we were often asked if we knew if "it" was a boy or a girl. We'd say, "Well, we asked God for a little girl." The reaction was generally such that we didn't feel encouraged to add, "and one with red hair and blue eyes." Well, many of you know how that turned out, though I must confess my knees buckled when our second daughter was born with a full head of carrot-red hair. Not only that, but the other things we asked for, as well as a boatload of things we hadn't even thought of, were deposited in her as well.

Now, I'm not saying that this should become anyone's doctrine or that I think this "extraordinary and direct" intervention in any way means God loves my wife and I more than anyone else or has a special purpose for my daughters more special than the plans he has for everyone else. We take it simply as a sign God gave us to bolster our faith and to encourage us to look to him. If there's more to it than that, we're happy to wait and see.

Could the RM's doctor have mis-diagnosed her extreme symptoms, or failed to perform the tubal ligation completely? Conceivably (pardon the pun). Perhaps we were just lucky, except there are dozens of other testimonies, maybe even hundreds if we could write them all down, in our lives where we know we have heard from and been directed by God and seen the result — and even some where we know we didn't pay attention and missed out to our detriment and the detriment of others (sometimes I really wish we could have a burning bush or bolt of lightning something to tip us off but it hasn't worked that way for us). Similarly, we have heard and even seen similar miraculous things happen in the lives of others we know. Quite often these results line up directly with how scripture describes the ways of God. Perhaps one day I'll write a book about how all that works, but for now it's time to get back to the question about Evolution and ID.

Because I've seen scripture come true in my life, it's easier for me to believe that other scriptures about creation could also be true. Similarly, I'm not ignorant of science (the depth of my faith is a relatively recent development). I'm widely read in a number of genres, and I've swum in the waters of evolutionary theory throughout my schooling. I've done the fruit fly experiments in Science class, and I know that species can change and certain traits can be developed (as any animal breeder can tell you), but I don't think I could ever so alter a fruit fly to where it could become say, a housefly or a dragonfly, let alone a chihuahua. Oh yeah, if you had biiilllliiioonnns of years well then anything could happen, right? Kind of like the old "an infinite number of monkeys with an infinite number of typewriters will eventually produce all the works of Shakespeare" theory (to which a dyed-in-the-wool evolutionist might say, "What makes you think Shakespeare wasn't a monkey?")

The thing is, the more "we" learn through science, the more complex the subject matter becomes. Scientists mapping the human genome have found that cells — thought to be the simplest of organisms — are really fantastically complex and the interactions within the cells and between cells are remarkably ordered. The odds that one cell could accidentally get the right combination of materials and events to come into existence, along with the ability to reproduce itself, is literally astronomical. That the cell could divide and multiply itself into an organism that could then meet up with some other organism and that these two would discover a lot more interesting way of reproducing than just cell division is, well, incredible. (Oh yeah, I still remember the stages of cell mitosis from lab class: interphase, prophase, metaphase, anaphase and telephase.)

Anyway, somehow or another — either by an incredibly fortuitous and accidental events or by someone or something lining the dominos up first — we're here in all our wisdom and glory. The evolutionary model holds that order came out of chaos, but in everything else we see that something put in "order" (at least by man) quickly returns to disorder. Does Nature "know" something we don't and if so, how? And does that "knowing" imply an intelligence at work? As scientists continue to delve deeper and deeper and learn more and more about how much it is they don't know, couldn't it be possible that many (who's job after all is to hypothesize, test, record and try to replicate) might, even without a "Christian" or religious background, start to say, "Hmmmm?" Isn't it reasonable that countless "reasonable" people might consider that life from random crystals, or space aliens "seeding" the earth or infinite monkeys typing out, not the works of Shakespeare, but infinite lines of DNA code sound just as mythic as Adam and Eve?

Posted on April 23, 2008. 5 Comments 0 Trackbacks

Monday, April 21, 2008

Review: Expelled (updated)

by The Night Writer

We went to see Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed as planned Friday night. We went to the 6:30 p.m. show and it looked like there were two dozen people in the theater. I hope the numbers increase because it was an interesting movie presented in a mostly respectful way, dealing with a subject that — while it may not occupy a lot of your thoughts or life — can certainly add meaning to these.

Frankly, however, I can see why people will stay away, regardless of their position on the topic of Evolution/Darwinism vs. Intelligent Design (or Creationism as some describe it). Most of us don't regularly seek out controversy, especially in our recreation times. We don't go out looking for a fight, yet the buzz around this film from both sides would lead you to think a fight is what you're in for. If any thing was provoked in me, however, it was thought. So much so, in fact, that I'd like to see the film again because I'd often find myself pondering an interview I'd just watched and being distracted as the film moved to another scene or conversation. In this post I'll give you my brief take on the movie based on one viewing, plus some thoughts I've had in the past couple of days about the nature of the controversy.

First, the movie. All in all it was very well done and, as I said before, respectfully handled. Ben Stein and his crew told the stories of several people on both sides of the Darwin/ID debate and did a great job of letting each side speak without interrupting or insulting the speakers. Stein, a phlegmatic but droll speaker and thinker, didn't ambush anyone or resort to gimmicks to throw the people he disagrees with off balance, and even gave them opportunities to restate and clarify their beliefs and positions; whether this was a good thing for those people or not you can decide if you see the movie. All in all it was a very pleasant and stimulating experience, though the section dealing with the Nazi atrocities was (as always) difficult to watch and I know some of who have seen and liked the movie have complained that it was still a reach to draw a direct line from Darwin's theories through the Eugenics movement to the Nazis.

They may have a point, in that the brutality that man has visited on his brothers throughout history is not limited to a particular doctrine or worldview. Atrocities in the name of faith can be documented as well. Hitler and the Nazis, however, could have been pure hatred and evil, but the scientific footing provided by Darwin and Eugenics supported the idea of inferior races and "useless eaters" and stripped the humanity — in the eyes of the Nazis — from their victims. A more effective analogy in the film was the comparison of the squelching of ID in science and academia to the Communist regimes that built walls, stifled dissent, assassinated (careers in this case) and ruthlessly intimidated those who didn't go along.

Again, this is not a trait exclusive to Darwinists, though it is a mockery of the noblest principles of scientific exploration and curiosity. Faith, too, has squelched and scorned when it found itself threatened; the fact that the "new" faith does the same is sad and but not surprising, and is even ironic in how its disciples refer to ID proponents as "flat earthers". Back in Galileo's time, most people knew the world couldn't be flat; practical experience with sight-lines over distances showed that and those who watched the stars (there wasn't television then) could get an idea that maybe everything didn't really revolve around us. Still, talking about this (in the Church's eyes) threatened the status quo and social order. Today, if people stop to really think about it, they can sense at a gut-level that the complexity of life (not just the statistical improbability, but impossibility of even a single cell coming into existence randomly or spontaneously and then being able to replicate, mutate and evolve before being destroyed doesn't make sense, even to those sworn to believe it, as the movie points out). The stakes for protecting the status quo today, however, are much the same, or even higher, as Brent Bozell noted in his review of the movie:

It is a reality of PC liberalism: There is only one credible side to an issue, and any dissent is not only rejected, it is scorned. Global warming. Gay "rights." Abortion "rights." On these and so many other issues there is enlightenment, and then there is the Idiotic Other Side. PC liberalism's power centers are the news media, the entertainment industry and academia, and all are in the clutches of an unmistakable hypocrisy: Theirs is an ideology that preaches the freedom of thought and expression at every opportunity, yet practices absolute intolerance toward dissension. (HT Are We Lumberjacks?)

If one area can be questioned then what might happen to the other pillars of what passes for "intelligent" thought in our world today.

In either camp, it ultimately comes down to faith. Personally, I don't dwell a lot on Genesis or Revelation in my faith. I know, beyond a doubt, that God is real and what he has done in my life through my faith in his son, Jesus. Exactly how it began and exactly how it will end don't interest me as much as what God has done and is doing in my life today, and what I can do for others. I need go no further than the miraculous lives of my two daughters who, while they may be unusual, are certainly not mutants even though it was nigh on impossible for them to be conceived.

I would have liked to have seen more discussion of the tenets of ID in the movie in addition to the stories of the remarkable and consistent persecution of those who dared to try to follow the evidence where it leads. Certainly the part about the complexity of cells both boggles and fires the imagination, while the rhetorical contortions of the Darwinist scientists as they try every explanation but God (crystals, space aliens, lightning striking a mud puddle) to explain how life came to be inspire giggles, not boggles.

Make no mistake, Stein didn't stack the deck when he lined up people to speak on camera for the movie. He had some of the best known names and noted intellects sit down in front of the camera and talk, even though their dismissals of ID theories or research were typically ad hominen attacks on their counterparts or insulting speculation of their opponents' agendas, with little offered in terms of refuting the ID argument on anything other than its premise.

Toward the end of the movie Richard Dawkins, author of The God Delusion, reads an excerpt from his book describing God — if he exists — as a petty, violently jealous, homicidal tyrant (among other things). If Dawkins is correct in his description, perhaps there is no God because if there were Dawkins would surely have been struck down. Or, perhaps it means that God is real and is as loving and merciful as others say. If so, why wouldn't Science want us to even consider the idea?

UPDATE:
Here's a thoughtful take on the movie from Joe Carter at Evangelical Outpost:

The film doesn't attempt to present the scientific case for ID (though Stein promises this will be included on the DVD version) nor does it attempt to undermine the credibility of neo-Darwinism (though the Darwinists in the film do a masterful job of that, albeit unintenionally). Stein's primary focus is on the freedom of academics to merely consider an idea that is deemed verboten in the Ivory Towers. He uses a series of interviews, interspersed with Cold War imagery, in a way that that is both entertaining and enlightening. It is only when it veers off into the historical connection between Darwinism and Nazism that the film stumbles. The conjunction between the two is indisputable, though ultimately as irrelevant as the connection between religion and ID. Scientific theories must be judged on their merit, not on unfortunate outcomes that may result.

Another caution is that Expelled isn't a fair movie. When Stein interviews advocates of ID he selects scientists and philosophers that are thoughtful and sober while the Darwinists tend to be either a bit nutty (Bill Provine) or unable to keep from damaging their own cause (PZ Myers). Likewise, he stacks the decks in ID's favor by interviewing intellectual heavyweights like David Berlinski while allowing neo-Darwinism to be defended by Richard Dawkins, a man who is highly educated but of only modest intellect. The result is a film that isn't balanced and isn't fair. But it is both funny and infuriating. At least it is, as Stein would no doubt say, if you value freedom. Rating: B+

Posted on April 21, 2008. 3 Comments 0 Trackbacks

Monday, March 31, 2008

Picture this: getting out of the way

by The Night Writer

Great testimony from King David over at The Far Wright today. It reminded me of a song we sang in church yesterday that goes, in part, "God will make a way, where there seems to be no way."

What I saw in that song is that when there seems to be no way it really means that there seems to be no way to me. God always knows and sees the way — and usually I'm bogged down right smack in the middle of it (the way, that is).

We all have had the experience of trying to do things "our way" (thanks, Frank), the "worldly" way. If we're blessed, or not too stubborn, we get hooked up with a good church and start to see God move and do things in our lives (He was doing them all along but we usually didn't recognize them for what they were). We get a new idea of God's power and mercy and we believe it and experience ... yet we get comfortable or when a new challenge comes we still put ourselves in the position of saying or deciding what God can, or cannot, do. Even though we've seen that there were things we didn't know before that have since changed our lives, we may yet assume that now we know it all ...

"Oh yeah, God will do that, but He wouldn't do this" or ...

"If I do this, then God will do that, ...

or the reverse, "God can't do this because I didn't do that..."

"God no longer speaks to us...or heals...or delivers...or opens doors that no man can close..."

Maybe it's because our fear trumps our faith; we fear our faith is not even as big as a mustard seed, or we're afraid that God won't come through, or we're afraid we somehow haven't "earned" His grace — even if we've had hours, years, even decades of sound teaching that tells us His grace is a gift that no one can earn...

We cling to our doctrines and our own understanding, lovingly polished over the years, and fail to see or remember the underlying Word that they were based on. We're afraid to just let go and put it in His hands, as if His plan isn't sufficient for our needs, as if our senses are the sole arbiter of what makes sense.

God still speaks. He still heals. He still provides. If you don't believe me, go talk to King David.

Posted on March 31, 2008. 1 Comments 0 Trackbacks

Picture this: getting out of the way

by The Night Writer

Great testimony from King David over at The Far Wright today. It reminded me of a song we sang in church yesterday that goes, in part, "God will make a way, where there seems to be no way."

What I saw in that song is that when there seems to be no way it really means that there seems to be no way to me. God always knows and sees the way — and usually I'm bogged down right smack in the middle of it (the way, that is).

We all have had the experience of trying to do things "our way" (thanks, Frank), the "worldly" way. If we're blessed, or not too stubborn, we get hooked up with a good church and start to see God move and do things in our lives (He was doing them all along but we usually didn't recognize them for what they were). We get a new idea of God's power and mercy and we believe it and experience ... yet we get comfortable or when a new challenge comes we still put ourselves in the position of saying or deciding what God can, or cannot, do. Even though we've seen that there were things we didn't know before that have since changed our lives, we may yet assume that now we know it all ...

"Oh yeah, God will do that, but He wouldn't do this" or ...

"If I do this, then God will do that, ...

or the reverse, "God can't do this because I didn't do that..."

"God no longer speaks to us...or heals...or delivers...or opens doors that no man can close..."

Maybe it's because our fear trumps our faith; we fear our faith is not even as big as a mustard seed, or we're afraid that God won't come through, or we're afraid we somehow haven't "earned" His grace — even if we've had hours, years, even decades of sound teaching that tells us His grace is a gift that no one can earn...

We cling to our doctrines and our own understanding, lovingly polished over the years, and fail to see or remember the underlying Word that they were based on. We're afraid to just let go and put it in His hands, as if His plan isn't sufficient for our needs, as if our senses are the sole arbiter of what makes sense.

God still speaks. He still heals. He still provides. If you don't believe me, go talk to King David.

Posted on March 31, 2008. 1 Comments 0 Trackbacks

Thursday, March 20, 2008

Left. Right. Left, Right, Left. Marching toward what?

by The Night Writer

Rich Karlgaard is among those pondering a return of the religious left:

Yet while secular politics are unwelcome in our church, I have noticed subtle shifts of late. The mood of the ministry and congregation is moving left. The music is moving toward a folk-rock sound of the 1960s and 1970s. Youth ministers wear berets and soul patches. The younger ministers don’t identify themselves as “Christians” but as “Jesus followers.” I would guess that most of them are Obama supporters, but I don’t ask.

To my thinking, "Christian" is ideally something that other people should call you because of what they see in you, rather than something you'd necessarily call yourself. "Follower of Christ" doesn't do much for me, since Jesus had a lot of people following him around during his ministry, perhaps just for the food. Personally, I like "Imitator of Christ" myself (more on that later).

America’s religious left seems to be mounting a comeback. I’m happy for this development, even though my own tilt is to the right.

The religious left has a distinguished past in American history. It led the abolition fight in the 19th century. It led the civil rights movement in the 20th century. Organizations like the Red Cross grew out of progressive Christianity.

Yes, and I think the basis of America's welfare program appealed to our country's Christian heritage and the well-meaning desire to do good and to help the poor. That welfare has had the un-Christian effect of destroying families and perpetuating multi-generational poverty also has to be acknowledged — something the religious left is loathe to do. It has also been, at best, ambivalent about abortion, and its infatuation and even outright embrace of communist and socialist totalitarianism from the Soviets to Castro, Ortega on through Chavez, and it's apparent commitment to replacing God with Government throughout U.S. policy is also disturbing. (That's not to say the Religious Right hasn't supported it's share of dictators and made its own alliances of convenience).

The strange disappearance of America’s religious left during the 1970s has been noted but not examined much. My own guess is that drugs, music, sex, New Age religions, body worship, tree worship, earth worship and so forth, siphoned off an entire generation of seekers who had previously found their mystic/activist fulfillment in the left hemisphere of Christianity.

Now one detects that many old hippies, and sons and daughters of hippies, are returning to progressive Christianity.

We’ll see how this plays out politically. If there must be a left, then let's cheer for a religious and not an atheistic left. However, I do think the trend benefits Democrats and is one reason why Democratic primary voter turnout has far excelled Republican voter turnout this year. The mainstream secular media, as usual, has utterly missed this story.

I think I agree with Karlgaard that if there's going to be a left let it be a religious left rather than an atheistic one. My caveat, and especially my prayer (for both the left and the right) is that the focus is on seeking and doing God's will, ideally by trying to be like Christ.

Earlier I mentioned being an "imitator" of Christ. Because we're all human (left and right), it is an easy step to try and move from "imitator" to "impersonator", wherein we try to rule by proclamation as if we, ourselves, were God. That's certainly long been a fear and a warning from the left side of the church aisle regarding the motivations of the right, while the left's own similar tendencies are ignored or attributed to "doing good" or "meaning well."

My belief is that any "theocracy", whether left or right, is fatally flawed by our own human imperfections and tendency to turn moves into movements; movements into monuments; and, ultimately, monuments into mausoleums. By all means, we should pursue faith in our lives and we should hope that our personal beliefs will be reflected in our public behavior individually and through policy. Our responsibilities to the poor (and the poor's responsibilities to God and others); to be stewards of the earth; to deal ethically and compassionately with others are all things that must be done and honored by individuals, not discharged to a collective or government to be taken care of while we blithely go our own selfish way. As I've written here before, if God asks me if I helped the poor (as if He doesn't already know) I don't think He's going to be impressed if I say, "Well, I paid my taxes." Being religiously left or right, highly taxed or not, doesn't lessen our responsibilities to do something on an individual basis, no matter how many marches, protests or church services we go to.

We often hear the phrase, "What would Jesus do?" as a guide to behavior. I suppose that's all right as far as it goes. A better statement might be, "What is Jesus doing?" and then trying to line up with that. If we believe Jesus is still at work around us, and not that He's gone off and left us to our own freedom-eroding devices, we can purpose to look for those things and and align ourselves accordingly. I urge those of the religious left, and my friends on the religious, to put our focus on glorifying God, not our own group or idealogy. If we can do that — though we may disagree from time to time — I think we'll be all right.

Posted on March 20, 2008. 0 Comments 0 Trackbacks

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Picture this: Yes

by The Night Writer

Saturday morning we had our Inside Outfitters men's meeting with men from a couple of other churches and a large contingent from Minnesota Teen Challenge. During the worship part of the meeting we sang with an abridged version of the song "Yes" by Shekinah Glory.

Will your heart and soul say "yes"?
Will your spirit say yes?
If I told you what I really mean,
would your heart and soul say "yes"?

It's a song that moves slowly and deeply, giving one a chance to either sing along or meditate on the words as they minister.

There is more that I require of of you,
Will your spirit still say, "yes"?

For such a long time in my life my answer was always "No."

Later I came around to where I said, "I don't know."

Eventually, in many areas of my life I said, "Yes" — to great effect.

Why then, in too many other areas, do I say, "Yes......but"?

Posted on February 17, 2008. 0 Comments 0 Trackbacks

Picture this: Yes

by The Night Writer

Saturday morning we had our Inside Outfitters men's meeting with men from a couple of other churches and a large contingent from Minnesota Teen Challenge. During the worship part of the meeting we sang with an abridged version of the song "Yes" by Shekinah Glory.

Will your heart and soul say "yes"?
Will your spirit say yes?
If I told you what I really mean,
would your heart and soul say "yes"?

It's a song that moves slowly and deeply, giving one a chance to either sing along or meditate on the words as they minister.

There is more that I require of of you,
Will your spirit still say, "yes"?

For such a long time in my life my answer was always "No."

Later I came around to where I said, "I don't know."

Eventually, in many areas of my life I said, "Yes" — to great effect.

Why then, in too many other areas, do I say, "Yes......but"?

Posted on February 17, 2008. 0 Comments 0 Trackbacks

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Filings: Red Hot Secrets of Romance

by The Night Writer

Where is it written in the Bible that guys have to be romantic? I mean, really, give me a scripture. I checked, and my concordance must be the Strong’s Silent Type, because the word “romantic” doesn’t appear once. Yet our culture tells us that women want men to be “romantic”, which usually means tender, sensitive and – oh yeah – dead.

In so many romantic movie by the time the credits are rolling over the last rays of poignant lighting, the guy is dead. As they might say in the Romance languages: Finito. Morte. Cold as a mackerel (like the guy in Titanic).

Why does it have to be like that? Well, I put down my Strong’s and picked up my Funk & Wagnall. It lists the definition of romance as “the character or nature of that which appears strange and fascinating, heroic, chivalrous…” and “a form of idealistic prose fiction distinguished from the novel or tale because it does not bind itself to reality…”

Well, there you have it: Romance is a fiction. The guy has to die at the end or otherwise ride off into the sunset or else reality will set in and the whole thing ultimately falls apart. You think women will pay to see a movie 17 times if turns out the knight leaves his shining armor laying around on the floor, or likes to spend his afternoons watching the jousts and scratching himself? ‘Tis a far, far better thing that he die nobly than live on and spoil the fantasy. That’s why most of what is considered "romantic" in our culture is really just a bunch of manipulative fluff that’s meant to sell something (or some philosophy).

There is an essential truth in all that, however: you really do have to die.

Earlier I challenged you to give me a scripture that mentions romance. I don’t think you’ll find one, but you will find an example of someone laying down his life for his bride. Ephesians 5:25 commands us to "love our wives as Christ loves the church." He gave himself up, and we are to do the same.

Now I’d guess most of us, if it came right down to it, would be willing to take a bullet for our wives. The real question is, “But will you let her have the last doughnut?” It’s one thing to lay down your life in a blaze of glory like in the movies, but it’s a lot more difficult (and even more romantic) to do it day in, day out by putting someone else’s needs ahead of our own. Perhaps at some time or another you’ve heard the phrase, “C’mon, would it kill you to show a little consideration?” And the answer to that, honestly, is “yes.” It does kill us in so much as we lay aside our will, our pride, our way of doing things in order to reach out to her in a way that is meaningful to her.

We die a little when we put down the newspaper to ask her about her day; when we go out of our way to do something to make her day or her life easier; when we take her concerns and input into consideration in making a joint decision. Is it one-sided? Well, it can be, but it’s been my experience and observation that these activities are very much included in the laws of sowing and reaping, and the harvest usually comes pretty fast. Furthermore, if we are to take Christ as our model, we see that he laid down his life for us first without concern for what he would get back (in fact, even knowing that there would be many who would not accept his sacrifice).

He did it, the scripture says, to make us (the church) holy. One of the definitions of “holy” is “to be set apart.” We demonstrate that our wives are holy to us by treating them in a way that shows we value them more than any relationship in our lives other than God. Instead of taking them for granted because we’re around them so much, we put extra effort into their well-being precisely because we are around them so much. Yes, it will cost us everything – and it will pay back more than we can ever imagine.

Posted on February 14, 2008. 3 Comments 0 Trackbacks

Filings: Red Hot Secrets of Romance

by The Night Writer

Where is it written in the Bible that guys have to be romantic? I mean, really, give me a scripture. I checked, and my concordance must be the Strong’s Silent Type, because the word “romantic” doesn’t appear once. Yet our culture tells us that women want men to be “romantic”, which usually means tender, sensitive and – oh yeah – dead.

In so many romantic movie by the time the credits are rolling over the last rays of poignant lighting, the guy is dead. As they might say in the Romance languages: Finito. Morte. Cold as a mackerel (like the guy in Titanic).

Why does it have to be like that? Well, I put down my Strong’s and picked up my Funk & Wagnall. It lists the definition of romance as “the character or nature of that which appears strange and fascinating, heroic, chivalrous…” and “a form of idealistic prose fiction distinguished from the novel or tale because it does not bind itself to reality…”

Well, there you have it: Romance is a fiction. The guy has to die at the end or otherwise ride off into the sunset or else reality will set in and the whole thing ultimately falls apart. You think women will pay to see a movie 17 times if turns out the knight leaves his shining armor laying around on the floor, or likes to spend his afternoons watching the jousts and scratching himself? ‘Tis a far, far better thing that he die nobly than live on and spoil the fantasy. That’s why most of what is considered "romantic" in our culture is really just a bunch of manipulative fluff that’s meant to sell something (or some philosophy).

There is an essential truth in all that, however: you really do have to die.

Earlier I challenged you to give me a scripture that mentions romance. I don’t think you’ll find one, but you will find an example of someone laying down his life for his bride. Ephesians 5:25 commands us to "love our wives as Christ loves the church." He gave himself up, and we are to do the same.

Now I’d guess most of us, if it came right down to it, would be willing to take a bullet for our wives. The real question is, “But will you let her have the last doughnut?” It’s one thing to lay down your life in a blaze of glory like in the movies, but it’s a lot more difficult (and even more romantic) to do it day in, day out by putting someone else’s needs ahead of our own. Perhaps at some time or another you’ve heard the phrase, “C’mon, would it kill you to show a little consideration?” And the answer to that, honestly, is “yes.” It does kill us in so much as we lay aside our will, our pride, our way of doing things in order to reach out to her in a way that is meaningful to her.

We die a little when we put down the newspaper to ask her about her day; when we go out of our way to do something to make her day or her life easier; when we take her concerns and input into consideration in making a joint decision. Is it one-sided? Well, it can be, but it’s been my experience and observation that these activities are very much included in the laws of sowing and reaping, and the harvest usually comes pretty fast. Furthermore, if we are to take Christ as our model, we see that he laid down his life for us first without concern for what he would get back (in fact, even knowing that there would be many who would not accept his sacrifice).

He did it, the scripture says, to make us (the church) holy. One of the definitions of “holy” is “to be set apart.” We demonstrate that our wives are holy to us by treating them in a way that shows we value them more than any relationship in our lives other than God. Instead of taking them for granted because we’re around them so much, we put extra effort into their well-being precisely because we are around them so much. Yes, it will cost us everything – and it will pay back more than we can ever imagine.

Posted on February 14, 2008. 3 Comments 0 Trackbacks

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Illuminating fun, faith, family and foolishness.

“Peace, prosperity, liberty and morals have an intimate connection.” - Thomas Jefferson

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Thursday, April 16, 2009

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Monday, March 31, 2008

Thursday, March 20, 2008

Sunday, February 17, 2008

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Illuminating fun, faith,
family and foolishness.

“Peace, prosperity, liberty and morals
have an intimate connection.”

- Thomas Jefferson