Blood Meridian vs Lilith

I listened to Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian via audiobooks recently. Then the very next book I went through by the same route was George MacDonald's Lilith. Could two more antithetical books of fiction possibly be read in sequence? I struggle to imagine what they would be.

Blood Meridian is dark. Dark. Did I mention dark?

Lilith is hopeful. Hopeful. Did I mention full of hope?

Here's my two cents: Both books are extreme, and at least one of them certainly wrong. Dead wrong. That would be Blood Meridian.

These books have been around for long enough that I probably don't need to say this... but... Spoiler alerts ahead. Stop reading now if you don't want them.

The last sentence in Blood Meridian reads, "He dances in light and in shadow and he is a great favorite. He never sleeps, the judge. He is dancing, dancing. He says that he will never die." After reading these words, one could be forgiven for wondering if I accidentally got things flipped around. This judge sounds like a delightful person.

Ummm. No. The judge we speak of here is powerful. Evil beyond words. And immortal, to boot. It's hard to imagine a worse combination: Power, Evil, and Immortality. Judge Holden seems to possess all three.

That's why Blood Meridian is wrong. Dead wrong. It's just fiction, but Cormac McCarthy clearly had a poor grasp of reality. I'm not sure I'll give this author another reading. I might yet read, "The Road", but I'm inclined to take a pass. I prefer to drink from the wells of those who offer more wholesome water. This man seems to be caught up in a great and terrible lie: The lie that evil shall prevail. Having also seen No Country for Old Men, I can see that this wasn't a slip of the pen. McCarthy's Anton Chigurh is just as evil as Judge Holden, and seemingly just as immortal. McCarthy knows what he means to say. The problem is that he's wrong. Evil shall not prevail.

If there is one thing I am sure of in this universe, it is that God is real. And God will prevail. In short, I believe that Power, Goodness, and Immortality reside in one being. Meatloaf may have felt that two out of three ain't bad, but in this situation, McCarthy has demonstrated that in some situations, you really need to get all three right—or just go home.

Moving on to Lilith, we run the risk, if it were possible, of erring just as wildly in the opposite direction. George MacDonald's Lilith presents us with a world where God's goodness is so great, even the most evil creature created is eventually redeemed and won over to love. If Blood Meridian's Judge Holden is the devil incarnate (and that case is not difficult to make), George MacDonald proposes in Lilith that even Holden will come around one day. Even Judge Holden will one day bow the knee to God eternal and embrace all that is good.

NGL, that's pretty hard to swallow. But the difference is this: At least MacDonald's proposal sounds nice. It's something to hope for. Because God is Good. If the redemption of every last thing in creation is possible, then God would surely do it. Whether that's possible is a open question, but it's at least something worth hoping for. At least MacDonald is pinning his hopes on a good outcome in the hands of a good God.

I'll be reading more MacDonald.

Greed for M___ (Fill in the blank)

I write this one with no research, so perhaps this isn't a new thought, but it's certainly new for me.

It struck me today that I have, for most of my life, been a slave to greed. Greed for m___.

For what? Not money. (Nor mammon, in case you were thinking this was a trick question.) No. Greed for memory. And just as Paul noted regarding money, I find that my love for memory has been a root for a number of evils in my life.

Obviously, memory is a necessity in life, and money proves pretty useful, too. These are neutral things, to be used well or poorly. What occurred to me this morning, however, is that there are dynamics at play with both that are worth examining.

To start with money, it can be gathered and then used profitably for the kingdom of God. But if hoarded, money is a curse and a prison. And in the end, it will be taken away. If not by the circumstances of life, then by death itself. We shall (!) be parted from our money.

Interestingly, memory is similar in at least a few respects. We can gather memories and use our memory profitably for the kingdom of God. But if we memorize for personal gain—and, most notably, for reasons of pride—memory is a curse and a prison. And in the end, it will be taken away from many of us as we approach death. Many of us lose the capacity to form new memories and keep them.

Where am I going with this? Well, those of us with good memories tend to take pride in such things. We remember trivia. We remember things so as to flaunt how much we know. Some people drive flashy cars. Others flaunt the wares they house between their ears.

But if we are in the game to flaunt our memory, then we are no better than those who flaunt their wealth. The same pride issues beset both crowds. It's just that the former like to think they are more refined.

For me, it occurred to me that all my googling on silly questions is too often chasing after the wind. I should be careful which topics I allow to consume my time. The facts I hoover up in life should preferably be of the sort that help me advance the kingdom of God. Raise up the poor. Love my neighbor.

Probably best to stop here. This reflection is not meant to be overly negative. It's fun to learn things. It's fun to know things. And there are ways to use the assets between our ears in ways that please Jesus.

But let this be a word of caution to self. Don't forget that greed for m___ can be unhealthy, and there are several ways to finish that M word.

The Fifteen Trillion Dollar Piano

Donald J. Trump lost an auction in 1988 for a 58-key piano used in the classic film “Casablanca” to a Japanese trading company representing a collector. The following year, Mr. Trump went on television to call for a 15 percent to 20 percent tax on imports from Japan. 

That was then. Fast forward forty years to now. Trump has finally has his revenge on that event. Collateral damage be damned, he got his tariffs.

Let us calculate the cost of that piano, now that we know the role it played in this debacle. I'd estimate it at about $15T.

Yes.

Donald Trump has shaved about $15T of value off world stock markets (perhaps more) because some Japanese collector outbid him at auction. For a piano.

If anything about this situation seems strange? Congratulations. You're sane. That's an increasingly rare state of mind to be in, BTW.

Try to hold onto it.

God Being Sly With Us

There is a dynamic to human life that makes me just smile and say, "God, you did that on purpose, didn't you?" The dynamic I am referring to is wrapped up in this question: Have you ever noticed what things deteriorate and when?

Think about it.

Would anybody argue against the thesis that all that we are as humans can be boiled down to body, mind and soul? If anything of human essence is not captured in these three basic categories, I defy the objector to point it out. I think those three categories are as a good a rough approximation as one could hope for.

Now.

When does the body enter decline? I'm told it begins in our early twenties. We start to feel it later, but that's when it begins. Peak condition? Enjoy it when you're young. It ain't gonna get better. The world's finest athletes may get in some special accomplishments in their thirties, but they won't be faster runs or greater feats of strength. It's all downhill from those heady immortal days of our youth. No matter how hard you try to make it otherwise.

When does the mind enter decline? Mmmmm, same story. Chess players are at the height of their capacities in their early twenties. If you happen to be Magnus Carlsen, you can reign over the chess board into your thirties, but his dominance at this point in his career only speaks to the even greater advantage he had over the next-best players when he was in his twenties.

Mathematicians, too, put in their finest discoveries while in their twenties. The Fields medal assumes that nothing is lost by restricting recipients to people under the age of forty. When Andrew Wiles proved Fermat's last theorem at the ripe old age of 41, that was a fluke—and the result, notably, of work done over six years by a genius who had been interested in the problem since early childhood.

I could go on with more obvious examples. Rhetorical question: how old were the Beatles when they wrote their best material? Are there any musicians you can think of, past or present, whose music got even better as they approached their golden years?

But we digress. To the point. There's one more question to ask.

When does the soul enter decline? My suspicion is that it doesn't have to. Ever. Bodybuilders, athletes, musicians and mathematicians must yield to the hands of father time pretty early on. But we can work on our souls all our lives. And I think souls can become sweeter and more mature with each passing decade.

I think God had a little fun with that arrangement. It's the way it ought to be. And it's the way it is. What matters most in life, we can work on right up to the end. God knows we are frail, and yet he endowed us with the capacity to "bulk up" and "sharpen up" the most important thing about us, and enables us to do this basically without restriction. The workout gym for the soul is open 24/7 for the entirety of our lives.

Now, if you don't mind, I'll stop here. I need to go work out.

Houston Has A Problem I Don't Want

 Brian Houston of Hillsong disrepute added to his woes recently by accidentally typing his google search ("ladies and girls kissing") into a Twitter post seen by millions.

Schadenfreude captures a fair bit of the public responses, and Mr. Houston (who does have a problem) did not improve matters by trying to claim (a mere 16 minutes later) on the same Twitter account that it had been hacked. This additional epic fail received the derision it deserved. (Observers gleefully remarked at how he had miraculously recovered control of his hacked account within minutes, when such problems usually take days or even months to resolve.

Mr. Houston has a problem, to be sure. From the looks of it, he has quite a few problems. But enough about him. Let's talk about me.

After I was done enjoying his further decline in the estimation of the world (toward the place of respect he deserves, having brought such disrepute to the name of Jesus), I turned to the awkward question that needed to be asked. What consequences would I face if my worst searches were made globally and publicly visible?

Ouch.

I am thankful that a full listing would show that I've got a pretty good record the vast majority of the time. I'm doing pretty well. Well... compared to some. Some of the time.

But that kind of accounting won't cut it. It only took one moment of typing in the wrong textbox for Mr. Houston to get into the situation he found himself in. Let's be generous (very generous, I'm sure) and assume that was his first and worst internet search on his worst day.

What was my worst search on my worst day? I won't put it here. But it's worse than what Mr. Houston typed. A lot worse.

I don't want Mr. Houston's problem. But I do want to remember it.

It is always preferable to do the right thing for the right reasons. Failing that, a distant second is to do the right thing for less awesome reasons. Distant second, indeed. Jesus delivered strong rebukes to Pharisees who did all the right things (or at least a number of good things) for a lot of really bad reasons.

If I avoid bad internet searches because my heart is in the right place? Perfect. But when my human frailty is winning the day in my heart, perhaps I'll remember that my internet searches are emblazoned across eternity, with nothing hidden–even if, unlike Mr. Houston, I do not have a highly visible Twitter account.

Mr. Houston's problem is mine, too. Our actions are never as invisible as we think. All SHALL be revealed. Some things now. But ALL things, eventually.

Keeping these things in mind might help me to evaluate more truthfully (for oh, how we do love to lie to ourselves) just how innocent and defensible my internet searches are.

Even the worst ones.

Your Best Version Of Me

 (A short poem)

God, please help me to be

Your best version of me.

(I did say it was short.)

They are gentle who need mercy (and know it)

The post header speaks for itself. But that makes for a rather short reflection, so I'll take a moment to answer to the question, "From whence did this thought arise?"

The short answer to the question is this: I can tell I am getting older. I can sense that I am growing weaker. And I am more aware, not uncoincidentally, of my need for mercy.

I once thought quickly. Quicker than most people. Now my sons can see that they think more quickly than I do on many topics. They aren't always respectful in the ways that plays out in our interactions. I find myself thinking, "I need to be more gentle. (Because I wish they'd be more gentle with me. And maybe it's not too late to give my sons a better example.)"

I never had great ears. I've always misunderstood what people are saying. But it's perhaps getting worse. I feel frail when family members are frustrated with my frequent requests to hear them repeat what they think they already said loudly enough.

I once drove with supreme confidence. But in recent months, I have noticed that I am making more driving errors. No accidents, thankfully, but I don't process three thoughts at once so well, anymore. I need to pay more attention on the road. My eyes are not young, anymore. I ruefully recall how many times in my life I have mocked elderly drivers for their caution and crawling pace. Ouch.

I could come up with more examples, but perhaps these suffice.

I've always needed mercy. It's just more obvious to me, now. And the more aware I become of my own need, the more I empathize with those who still need mercy from me—and the more I wish I had learned these traits when I was young, hot-blooded, and thirsty to conquer.

There is only one true conqueror, and his name is Jesus Christ. Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy.