Improving My Own Unfinished Story. Offline.

[This continues from the 3rd of a 4-part reflection on biographies...]

Three blogs on three celebrities and their stories. My name and story are virtually unknown, however. Ditto that for my blog, which spans six years now. What say we for 2015? A Sabbath rest? Or perhaps a peaceful death.

As I examine my life of late, I feel a growing sense of dissatisfaction and dis-ease — frequently when it seems I have invested my time poorly. There are trade-offs between writing a good story (or trying to, anyway) and living one. I think it's time for me to focus more intently upon the latter.

That's not to say there wasn't value in blogging. Some of my blogs have really helped me (and occasionally others) to think things through or see things in a new way. Nor is it to say that my life's in a bad place. It's not. But we cannot examine too closely how we use our time, and too often my blogging hobby has crowded out other things of greater importance.

Time to cut back. Two activities, to be specific. These words illuminate:

"All his discourse was upon God and the Holy Scriptures. When any in his presence spoke of worldly affairs, he never (unless necessity required) opened his mouth, having no desire of such knowledge. But where conversation turned upon God and heavenly things, his words flowed like a stream from an inexhaustible fountain."

Thus wrote a contemporary of Thomas à Kempis. Two things stand out.

First, Thomas avoided knowledge of the trivial. Me? Not so much. Why else do I know about Bill Cosby's recent travails in such detail? Why else do I know that Angelina's movie had a $65M budget or that she needs a better father figure in her life? If I could remove worthless trivia from my head, I'd be three pounds lighter. It's time (again) for an internet news/trivia diet.

Second, Thomas left us a treasure trove of spiritual gems. In what limited time I have, I'd like to focus more on appreciating and internalizing gems like his than on trying to cut and polish new ones of my own.

Thomas. Bonhoeffer. Hammarskjöld. All on the same journey, but so far ahead. I'd love to catch up with them, but the gap won't narrow until I slow down. I'd love to travel with them and, with God's help, to make my story more like theirs. To, like them, become more like Jesus Christ.

I began my first blog with the observation that my literary efforts were not in high demand. I end my last blog with the observation that nothing has changed since then on that front. Yes, it will be a quiet death for my blog.

But hopefully my story will improve.

Let Unfinished Stories Be Unfinished. And Hope.

[This continues from the 2nd of a 4-part reflection on biographies...]

I didn't see a connection between the last two reflections right away. It wasn't until after publishing the second one that it struck me. Bill Cosby is trying to edit the worst stuff out of his story. Angelina Jolie, in turn, seems no less keen to edit the best stuff out of Louie Zamperini's story.

This realization got me thinking about people and their stories, but the kicker was still coming: an online article arguing that Christians should go see the Unbroken movie and should enjoy it. It was both convincing and moving. And convicting. It challenged my version of Angelina's story.

In my telling of Ms. Jolie's story, she (for whatever personal reasons) didn't want no Bible-thumpin' stuff in her movie, so she cut it out. But I was wrong. It turns out that Louie Zamperini himself wanted the movie done as it was. We could argue the merits of the approach taken, but he wanted the movie to be approachable for people from all walks and faiths.

Then came the 2-by-4 over my head. As I read the article, I was moved by how the entire extended Zamperini family had loved on Angelina and embraced her as their own. Louie, in particular, had become a very dear father figure for Angelina. Lord knows she needs one. Zamperini's daughter Cynthia Garris said this of Angelina:

"She was moved by my father's faith to try [praying to God for help] and that's what he wants for people to get from the movie," Garris explained. "I'll tell you, when my father died we were all with him in the hospital. [Angelina] came about 45 minutes later and she was pointing above saying 'I know he's with us, I know he's there with God.' I think maybe in God's plan for Angelina, she was supposed to find Louie and make this movie to find her way to a life that would encompass the Almighty."

Now the spotlight was on me. If Angelina had read my little vent-fest, would she have wanted me for family? I knew that the answer was No. But I wanted it to be (and knew it should be) Yes. My feelings about both Jolie and her movie had changed drastically. But the funny thing is...

Angelina hasn't changed in the last 12 hours. Just my perception of her.

Angelina Jolie has a story, too. It's complicated. And I don't know it. All this reminds me (yet again) that I should not rush to judge stories I don't know or try to end them prematurely. Especially people's stories.

Let unfinished stories be unfinished. Especially the ones that seem bad. If the story doesn't look pretty, pray for more chapters! This is not a good ending for Bill Cosby's story. Pray for him a good ending. Angelina Jolie has had a rough life. Pray for her a good ending.

[To be continued...]

How To Break Unbroken. (Or Not.)

[Spoiler alert: Book/Movie plot twists revealed here.]

[This continues from the 1st of a 4-part reflection on biographies...]

Having read Unbroken, Laura Hillenbrand's biography on the life of Louis Zamperini, I was quite excited to see the movie. Zamperini was a 1936 USA Olympic runner who became a Japanese POW during WWII. But escaping WWII alive (against all odds) marks only the halfway point of his struggle.

Upon returning to the US, Zamperini's life began to spiral downward, sped on its way by PTSD nightmares, alcoholism and an imminent divorce. The climactic moment in the book is Zamperini's conversion experience at a Billy Graham crusade, after which his whole life was turned around. He gave up the booze. The marriage was saved. The nightmares went away. And Mr. Zamperini spent the rest of his life working in Christian ministry.

This whirlwind summary doesn't begin to cover all of Zamperini's stunning experiences. So I just assumed the movie would follow the plot of the riveting book. Conversion experience and all. Why, I thought, would a movie director risk ruining a $65M movie by messing with the story?

I guess you'd have to ask Ms. Jolie that one, because that's what she did.

She turned the story of the redemption of Louis Zamperini's soul into the story of his surviving WWII. The real climax from the book is literally GONE. Hints of his post-WWI life are pasted onto the screen as quotes during the closing credits, if I understand what I'm reading in the previews.

Did Angelina Jolie really turn the true story of a man's spiritual redemption into a formulaic action flick? So it seemed. I was stunned. I began to muse over how the Lord of the Rings might have looked like under Jolie's direction. Perhaps she would have cut out the Mount Doom sequence? Then in the credits she might inform us that Frodo resolved the situation with the ring and left it in Gollum's possession.

I wouldn't waste my time watching a movie like that. I'd put my money to better uses. And that's what I suspect I'll do with regards to Unbroken, too. Once something is truly broken, there's no use wasting money on it.

At least, that is what I was thinking this morning.

[To be continued...]

Autobiographies, Biographies, and the Final Draft

A verse keeps coming to my mind when I hear about Bill Cosby in the news.

1 Timothy 5:24
The sins of some people are conspicuous and precede them to judgment, while the sins of others follow them there.

If Bill Cosby did do the things he stands accused of, it could fairly be said that he spent fifty years living in the second half of this verse, and in a matter of weeks transitioned (permanently) to the first half.

For many decades, people could hardly make the distinction between Bill Cosby and his fictional personality Cliff Huxtable. Bill was everyone's favorite father figure. All that has changed in the blink of an eye.

In the court of public opinion, Cosby has been branded as an unrepentant sexual predator. America's 3rd most trusted celebrity (out of 3,000) is now ranked 2,615. And dropping.

But Cosby has an autobiography in his head, and he's not going to let go of it that quickly. You can almost hear him saying, "I'll write the story, thank you, and I'll tell you how it goes." When the infamous PBS interview did not go according to that script, he literally went silent.

A strategy of blanket denials and silence served Mr. Cosby well for decades, so it's understandable that this new situation has caught him by surprise. He is used to being in control of his story, but now there's a competing version out there. And try as he might, he can't make it go away.

Which story is more accurate? It's an important question, and it appears that earthly courts will weigh in soon enough. But the whole truth won't be known until God opens the Book of Life and renders a final judgement in the court of heaven. On the Day the Book of Life is opened, all our various (and conflicting) autobiographies and biographies will turn to dust.

Watching Mr. Cosby try (and fail) to control even the earthly version of his life's story is a poignant reminder. There is a true version of our life's story, but none of us are permitted to write the final draft. We only get to live it.

God has the final say. You might want to write that one down, Bill.

To be continued...

The Only Name By Which We Are Saved

I have an old joke printout entitled History Of The World According To Student Bloopers which brings together a pastiche of actual statements taken from various student exams and papers.

Picking favorite lines from it is difficult, there being so many good ones to choose from. That said, I think my favorite might be the claim that "The Iliad was written not by Homer, but by another man of the same name."

As they say, the best way to kill a good joke is to explain it carefully, however here I intend to do just that. The thing that makes this statement funny is the fact that literally nothing is known about the author Homer. It's not even certain that Homer was his actual name.

In short, reassigning the name of Homer to a purported "other man" isn't going to change anything we know about that man.

I am going somewhere with this, but there's one more pit stop en route.

As I reflected on our friend Homer, I was reminded of Shakespeare's assertion that a rose "by any other name would smell as sweet."

You can rename the rose, but its essence will remain with it regardless.

[BTW, elsewhere in that bloopers history we learn that Shakespeare didn't make much money and "is only known because of his plays."]

These thoughts have been tumbling in my mind recently because I've been reflecting on my Christian faith — and the alternatives.

It must be said that in some Christian circles it's not very popular to talk about Christian faith as anything more than the only truth — something beyond discussion or considerations to the contrary.

I can understand the strong feelings on this topic, however I find it helpful to look at it from another angle.

When I hope and pray for a non-Christian to come to Jesus, I want them to abandon their current beliefs and plunge into a new life with Jesus Christ at the center of it. That's a pretty important decision! It would be a meaningless one if not taken after some kind of careful thought.

So I am, in essence, asking outsiders of the Christian faith to do comparison shopping — with the hope that they will change products.

How can I in good conscience ask others to do what I refuse to do myself?

That said, I too find it unpleasant to engage in this same exercise. It's a bit like shopping around romantically after you're married. After all, I have made a commitment to Jesus. How can I think about a life without him?

And so it goes. Back and forth.

When it's all said and done, however, I feel that my faith in Christ is the stronger for the process, because it's not blind. It's a decision.

Any decision based on a historical personage will involve a certain amount of faith, because we are forced to meet that person through intermediated stories about them. And by the time you're my age, you've hopefully realized that humans and their histories are more than a little fallible.

So what does this have to do with Homer and roses? Two scriptures suffice.

Acts 4:12
Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to mankind by which we must be saved.

Yes, we could rename Jesus, but one conclusion I've come to is this: if there were another salvation... another way to God... I'm pretty sure this alternative route would be Jesus by another name.

I never have doubts about the reality of God. Jesus, however, lived 2,000 years ago, and what I know about him has been mediated through four histories written by fallible men.

Even so. I've read other histories. I've done the shopping.

I know about Mohammed, and I've read his Quran. No, thanks. Jesus calls us to take up our crosses and serve. Mohammed calls the faithful to take up their arms and conquer. There is a difference, the faithful do take note of it, and the results are plain for all to see.

[For instance? Just read the news. Some of the first Westerners to contract the Ebola virus were Christian missionaries serving in African hospitals. Meanwhile, in other African news, yesterday an Islamic terrorist group evacuated a bus in Kenya and murdered the 28 people on it who could not (or would not) recite a Quranic verse.]

Or how about this one from last week's Economist. "The Mormon church admitted that its 19th-century founder, Joseph Smith, married up to 40 wives. Polygamy it said, was 'difficult for all involved'. For Smith’s first wife, Emma, it was an 'excruciating ordeal'."

Yes, we can shop. We can look around. Not all religions have such dubious characters for founders. Buddhism and Confucius strike closer to the mark.

But not close enough. All that is good in Buddhism and Confucianism is present in Christianity, but the reverse is not the case.

Both Buddhism and Confucianism deprive me of a personal God to love and worship, and (lacking God) they also have literally no foundations for a moral framework in which the words good and evil have real meaning.

Minor flaws?

Jesus, however, holds up just fine. Better than fine. He is perfect. He is the perfect representation of this very God I seek to know.

And he leads me in paths that are good.

Oh. And about the rose?

2 Corinthians 2:15
For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing, to one a fragrance from death to death, to the other a fragrance from life to life.

All my alternatives to Jesus would involve another man of the same name.

And by any other name this Jesus would, for me, still smell as sweet.

You-biquitous

As a child, I enjoyed a storybook fable about three men with stupendous eyesight. They could see for miles — and even through solid objects.

These men arrogantly challenged all comers to try to slip anything by them, and for quite some time no one succeeded in doing so.

Each day, however, a young boy arrived among the mix of people trying to fool these three men. And each day the three sharp-sighted men spotted and counted every bricks the child had laid in his wheelbarrow.

The story ends with the surprising revelation that the child had, after all, outwitted the three men. He had slipped a large number of wheelbarrows under their noses, all of them quite unnoticed.

I was reminded of that story when I read a thoughtful review of Psalm 119 which remarks on its many references to God's law.

That Psalm 119 expresses affection for God's law was not news to me.

How often it does this, however, was indeed news. The reviewer notes that (out of 176 verses) there are only four verses that do not contain a specific reference to God's law by means of one of eight Hebrew words.

These eight words are all present at least once in the first 11 verses.

Psalm 119:1-11
1 Blessed are those whose ways are blameless,
    who walk according to the law of the Lord.
2 Blessed are those who keep his statutes
    and seek him with all their heart—
3 they do no wrong
    but follow his ways.
4 You have laid down precepts
    that are to be fully obeyed.
5 Oh, that my ways were steadfast
    in obeying your decrees!
6 Then I would not be put to shame
    when I consider all your commands.
7 I will praise you with an upright heart
    as I learn your righteous laws.
8 I will obey your decrees;
    do not utterly forsake me.
9 How can a young person stay on the path of purity?
    By living according to your word.
10 I seek you with all my heart;
    do not let me stray from your commands.
11 I have hidden your word in my heart
    that I might not sin against you.

(Yes, verse 3 is one of those four verses that lack a "law" reference, though I wonder if the Psalmist intended the word "ways" to serve this purpose.)

After reading this review I went through Psalm 119 and underlined, in each verse, the reference to God's law. Holy cow! They were everywhere!

You might think that I am now going to compare the many references to God's law as the wheelbarrow that had been slipped under my eye.

Not so. We cannot help but notice the bricks in this Psalm, and more than a few of us are prone to tiring of the repetition.

No, I might not have realized how very many bricks there were, but only the blind could have missed this Psalmist's affection for God's law. References to God's law are not the wheelbarrow, but rather the bricks.

The wheelbarrow? Here's where things got interesting for me. Upon reflection, we find that this Psalmist quite trumps the little boy's feat.

How? Well, let's do a little bit of math, starting with the boy.

The boy slipped 100 wheelbarrows by while the three men were counting the thousands of bricks inside them.

Psalm 119 does this trick one better. Yes, it does have 172 references to God's law, however Psalm 119 also slips in an even greater number of wheelbarrows — Some 240 of them!

It's as if the psalmist slipped in three wheelbarrows for every two bricks.

Did you miss those wheelbarrows too?

Enough suspense! What are we talking about? What wheelbarrows?

Here's what our reviewer notes:

But there is something else that occurs even more often.
...more than 225 times in the 176 verses.
The suffix cha – the 2nd person masculine singular pronoun.
In English, “you.”
And in every instance, [it] refers to Yahweh.
In English, “you” refers to Yahweh 240 times in this Psalm.

So the psalmist loves God's law to an extreme, but (if word-counts were the measure) he loves God even more.

For this psalmist, God's law is a means to an end. And that end is Yahweh.

This is a wonderful reminder. Let us not tire of Psalm 119's repetition. Rather, let us emulate the psalmist's tireless affection for God himself.

And this brings us to one final, pleasant, thought. In Jesus we find both the bricks and the wheelbarrows. He is both the final, perfected, fulfillment of God's law and, as St. Paul notes, "the image of the invisible God."

Jesus represents both God's law and God himself.

If we were to replace all references to God or God's law in Psalm 119 with Jesus? It wouldn't read as well, but he'd show up more than 400 times.

Not bad for one Psalm.

Awaiting Death — The Great Un-American Pastime

Sometimes I write a blog and then don't push it live — usually for reasons that involve me hoping to avoid becoming a candidate for psychiatric evaluation and/or the object of a 24/7 suicide watch.

With this blog I break free from that tradition of silence and confess that I am awaiting death somewhat eagerly.

Having dropped that bombshell, I now rush to clarify.

For starters, I have been this way for more than 25 years and fully expect to put in at least that many more before my life comes to an end.

For seconders, there is an important distinction between those who are ready for death and those who are suicidal. Truly suicidal people by definition are ready for death. And not interested in waiting.

But the reverse need not be true. One can eagerly await death — and all the while have absolutely no plans to hurry the moment forward.

Count me in that latter, rather unusual crowd. Hopefully this clarification will keep the wailing sirens at bay.

So... why this break? Why this blog actually posted to a public website? Something I read this morning finally cemented a realization into place.

I do have a problem, but my problem is not that I am sick. I don't need Prozac, a shrink, or a stay in the white, padded room.

My problem is that I'm not American enough.

Additionally, all my heroes are certifiably insane.

I checked my blogs and see that I did indeed begin a blog series titled All My Heroes Are Certifiably Insane but I only finished one blog on Dietrich Bonhoeffer and Father Jerzy Popieluszko.

I didn't get far on that series, but I intend to resume it here.

But before I proceed, I want to return to Dietrich. There's something I didn't put in my first blog on him, though it has stayed with me indelibly.

Bonhoeffer became not just a hero, but also a soul-mate to me.

It happened when I read this:

…Bonhoeffer chose Eberhard Bethge as his confessor. Bonhoeffer felt comfortable sharing with Bethge what he called acedia or tristitia – a ‘sadness of the heart’ that we might call depression. He suffered from it but rarely showed it ... And it’s doubtful that Bonhoeffer discussed it with anyone but Bethge. ... He touched on his depression years later, in a letter to Bethge from Tegel prison: ‘I wonder why it is that we find some days so much more oppressive than others, for no apparent reason. Is it growing pains – or spiritual trial? Once they’re over, the world looks quite a different place again.’

Days like those? I know those days. Story of my life.

But let's move on to my next hero: Dag Hammarskjöld.

It was while reading about him this morning that I suddenly kicked free from the notion that I'm completely sick in the mind to struggle as Dietrich did. (And won't Dietrich be relieved to hear that too!)

After I had read a few pages of quotes from Hammarskjöld's personal journals, I felt like I had read my own journals and my own words.

In 1950 Hammarskjöld initiates a practice "that he will follow for six of the next eight years." The New Year's Day entry began with with these words in all capitals. NIGHT APPROACHES NOW.

And by night? He meant death.

Hammarskjöld went on to jot down a poem that includes these words:

You would welcome death.
But when it slowly grows within you,
Day by day,
You suffer anguish
Anguish under the unspoken judgment which hangs
  over your life
While leaves fall in the fool's paradise.

In recent weeks when I ventured outside my home, I couldn't help but soak in the beautifully golden trees of our neighborhood in all their resplendent colors. But virtually every time I did, I also sang quietly to myself.

September, I remember.
A love once new has now...  grown old.
—Simon & Garfunkel (a.k.a. The Kings of Doom and Gloom...)

Yes, the world has beauty. A great deal of it. God's beauty.

But usually I feel like I'm watching leaves fall in a fool's paradise.

On New Year's Day in 1951 Hammarskjöld returned to his theme.

'Night Approaches Now. —' So another year it is. And if this day should be your last.... The pulley of time drags us inexorably forward toward this day. A relief to think of this, to consider that there is a moment without a beyond."

Death couldn't come soon enough for him. Move forward a year. In his journal entry for New Year's Day in 1952 Hammarskjöld again returned to his theme.

'Night Approaches Now. —' How long the road is.

How long, indeed, my friend.

But then things take a turn for the better. Much better. January 1, 1953:

'Night is drawing nigh —'
For all that has been — Thanks!
To all that shall be — Yes!

WOW! This is good news. Living water for a parched soul. Hammarskjöld eventually emerged from his dark night of the soul. For the remainder of his life his journals were peppered with the word Yes! — done in italics and with clarifying words to accompany. What's more, Hammarskjöld seemed to come to a point (and then passed it)... the point where he recognized...

Led by the Ariadne's thread of my answer through the labyrinth of Life, I came to a time and place where I realized that the Way leads to a triumph which is catastrophe and to a catastrophe which is a triumph, that the price for committing one's life would be reproach, and that the only elevation possible to man lies in the depths of humiliation. After that, the word "courage" lost its meaning, since nothing could be taken from me.

As I continued on the Way, I learned, step by step, word by word, that behind every saying in the Gospels stands one man and one man's experience. Also behind the prayer that the cup might pass from him and his promise to drink it. Also behind each of the words from the cross."

I bolded one sentence in the lengthy quotation above because it's a thought that has been rattling about in my head incessantly over the past few months. My version of that thought goes like this:

So, Pilgrim, if you're so ready to die, you ought to be as detached from this game as a father about to lose a game of Monopoly to his son. Losing the game matters not a whit. But loving the son during the process is priceless.

Are you so ready to die, Pilgrim? Live well because, while you have nothing to lose in this sometimes seemingly senseless game, there is much yet to gain by serving God faithfully until the last roll of the dice.

Ready to die, Pilgrim? Prove it by how you live.

LOVE! As if you have nothing to lose. Nothing at all.
LIVE! As if you have nothing to lose. Nothing at all.
GIVE! As if you have nothing to lose. Nothing at all.

Dag Hammarskjöld, my hero, has gone further down this trail than I have, and his NIGHT turned to Yes! That's immensely encouraging. In fact, the title of his published journals is Vägmärken, which translates to "Trail Markings."

"Perhaps it may be of interest to somebody to learn about a path about which the traveler who was committed to it did not wish to speak while he was alive."

Perhaps? Definitely. I myself am on a long journey between NIGHT and Yes! — with too much emphasis on the former and not enough on the latter. It's good to know where this path leads, provided I keep an eye out for the markings Dag left behind him. I think I'll buy a copy of his book.

How old was Dag Hammarskjöld during his long stay with NIGHT? I looked. In 1950 he turned 45 years old.

That's how old I am today. Hope.

To complete a train of thought, I return to my final, relieved conclusion. The one that set me free to write this blog and push it live.

I'm not insane.

I'm not sick.

I'm just not American enough.

And all my heroes are certifiably insane.

Bonhoeffer was a hero of the Christian faith. But he knew my NIGHT.

Dag Hammarskjöld? Best Secretary-General the United Nations has ever known. Wikipedia notes, "In 2011, The Financial Times wrote that Hammarskjöld has remained the benchmark against which later UN Secretaries-General have been judged. John F. Kennedy had this to say of him: 'I realize now that in comparison to him, I am a small man. He was the greatest statesman of our century.'"

If these two men were sick, then let me drink deeply of their disease.

In the footnotes of Streams of Living Waters Richard Foster adds these thoughts after quoting Hammarskjöld's journal entries at length:

These meditations upon death may strike the American mentality as a bit strange, even morbid. The Scandinavian mind would not find it unusual in the least, however; nor would most cultures throughout history. Indeed, one of the well-established Spiritual Disciplines is to contemplate one's own demise.

Another Slant On The Victory Stance

What does it mean when you see someone out in the water waving at you? The poem Not Waving But Drowning (perhaps by title alone) captures the ambiguities of the situation.

I found myself musing this matter over recently for another reason. Never mind being out at sea. How do we interpret arms raised while on land?

Well, we all know why Olympians raise their arms after winning their event. Yes, arms raised often signifies dominance and victory.

Thus far, no surprises, but there is a popular TED video out there titled Your Body Language Shapes Who You Are. It's quite interesting and offers some surprising insights into the mind/body link. Specifically, the presenter recommends that we strike "victory poses" regularly, because in the very act of doing so we shape our own reality and the reality of those around us. We don't merely feel more victorious, we actually become more victorious.

With limitations, of course. We won't simply raise our arms into Olympic gold. However, if we raise our arms in the bathroom for a few minutes before an interview, we're quite literally more likely to be hired.

This is all well and good. Food for thought, especially for an inveterate sloucher such as myself. A timely reminder to keep working on my posture!

But one piece of the talk that never went down terribly well with me was that nagging concern that I not be seduced by the ways of this world and the deification of success so common in American culture.

I don't want to be a victory-pose kind of guy. Donald Trump isn't my hero.

But the other day I was feeling down, so on a lark I decided to get up while praying and even raise my hands in supplication.

And, of course, now it's clear where I'm going.

It dawned upon me that in taking the supplicant pose I was also assuming a victory pose. Every child who reaches up for their parent's embrace is assuming a victory pose.

And, as the speaker indicated during her TED talk, it's not what you bring into the pose that makes the difference. It's simply that you (to quote Madonna) strike the pose.

So that thought really made me happy. Talk about a win/win. Praying to God while taking the supplicant's pose yields a double-whammy bonus.

A quick study of this pose in the Psalms yielded a result I expected to find.

Psalm 28:2
Hear my cry for mercy
  as I call to you for help,
as I lift up my hands
  toward your Most Holy Place.

But another verse reminded me that that this pose is used for praise too!

Psalm 134:2
Lift up your hands in the sanctuary
   and praise the Lord.

So we don't have to be addicted to the American success obsession in order to play this game of poses. We can capture all the same benefits if we simply engage our bodies more during our quiet moments with God.

That's a pretty cool perk.

I have a sneaking suspicion God was waiting for us to notice it.

Vegetarian Postscript: The Medical Verdict

So as I noted in a prior series of blogs, I became a vegetarian in late May of this year.

It's a long series of blogs, but if one were to read all of them (a task that few, statistically speaking, have ever endeavored to do) it would quickly become clear that my decision was not at all driven by concerns surrounding personal health.

This is interesting, because when I tell people of my decision, the nearly universal response is to assume that I did so for personal health reasons. (Why else would one become a vegetarian??)

And yet here is the even more curious twist: despite the fact that most people assume my decision was health-driven, a substantial minority of them go on to express doubts that vegetarianism is "better for you." The reasoning is basic and blunt. It basically goes like this: "God made us this way, and we all need that protein."

Both opinions are quite wide of the mark.
A) I did not go vegetarian to improve my health. I was already healthy.
B) Going vegetarian properly does improve your health. Even mine.

Yes, the above chart is my own. In the day and age of keeping your health records a secret, I see nothing I need to hide in the above. It shows how my lipid panels changed between the readings taken two years ago and the readings taken this past Monday.

If you're like me, you don't read these numbers every day, so here's a quick medical rundown of what they mean. Compare my numbers to the below explanations...

As for triglycerides? "The American Heart Association (AHA) recommends that a triglyceride level of 100 mg/dL (1.1 mmol/L) or lower is considered "optimal."

My triglycerides did rise, however they are still in "optimal" range.

I didn't start this journey out for health reasons, but my doctor was certainly happy with the latest results. Whereas my cholesterol readings were borderline "OK" before, they are now fantastic.

Plain and simple.

Revive A Corpse In Three Simple Steps

Step 1: Find someone who can bring the dead back to life.

In my 2nd language (Consultantese) I call Step 1 the "show-stopper." There's no point in worrying about later steps if you can't get past the first.

And, of course, we can't.

But that doesn't stop me from trying occasionally.

No, I don't try to raise the dead. But I do try to "achieve sinless perfection" through personal effort from time to time, and it's no less impossible.

As if I could raise the dead.

As if I could stop sinning.

But I do know a God who can raise the dead and transform me through the awesome power of his mighty Holy Spirit.

And if we return to the original instructions I began with?

Step 1 isn't such a show-stopper, after all. That's really good news.

Because I feel like a walking corpse from time to time.

Tasty, Healthy, Or Both

I have a rule of thumb when I eat. Whatever it is, it had better be tasty, healthy... or both. For obvious reasons. Why would I want to eat something that is neither tasty nor healthy??

So this is hardly startling wisdom. But it gets me out of trouble when someone serves me something that is healthy, but not so tasty. I mention my rule of thumb, note that the food is healthy, and thank them for it.

And I mean it!

What struck me the other day, however, is that this kind of thinking has its applications in life. I say that because God too, in his sovereignty, serves up a daily smorgasbord of experiences. What shall I say of them?

No surprise, I definitely prefer the tasty situations. But as is the case with food, so with experience. In moderation God blesses pleasant experiences — however desserts should not overwhelm the plate.

What I need a lot more of in life, is those healthy experiences - the ones that don't taste good automatically. The ones we'd prefer not to eat.

The veggies.

Fact: I'm not in the habit of thanking God for the "veggies" in my day. Thankfully, God doesn't give it to my complaints. In his wisdom God keeps sending them my way each day.

How sad, though, that I know to thank people for sugar-free veggies but I don't know to thank God for the spiritual equivalent?

This pilgrim needs to acquire a taste for the trials and tribulations that are good for my soul. What is truly healthy can and should become tasty.

And when that happens, I will give God, my good chef, his proper due.

Playing To The Wrong Crowd

I have a recurring daydream that happens more often than I'd care to admit. It begins with my sudden death, but I don't focus much on that. I zero in on the funeral.

Crowds of people come, of course. Some famous, some not. Many tears are wept and all present remember me as a truly great person taken too soon.

Etc. etc. etc. Yada, yada, yada.

You get the idea. I suppose most of us nurse secret vanities like these from time to time, though I perhaps am more guilty than most on this count.

When these thoughts have run their course and I return to reality, I am struck by the contrast between what I'm doing and what I see in Hebrews.

Hebrews 12:1 (abridged)
Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses... let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us...

Who are these witnesses? The author lists a few of them in chapter 11.

They are dead.

Yes, Hebrews encourages us to put on a good show for the dead, but my funeral fantasies focus on the living. So why do I do that? The answer is pretty obvious. The living can be fooled. The departed cannot.

The truth is? I'm selfish. Self-loving. Petty. Greedy. Lustful. Revenge-loving. You name it. I know all these things to be true.

My funeral fantasy is therefore like the great finale of a grand deception put on for people who don't know the real me.

Hebrews 12, in contrast, reminds me to run my earthly race well in the presence of heavenly witnesses who do. God himself is among them.

Forget the funeral deception, Pilgrim. Focus on the heavenly reception.

Unbroken: Finding Gratitude When All Hope Is Lost

I recently finished Unbroken, a fabulous biography recounting the life of Louie Zamperini. My alternative title for this blog is "I Hope They Don't Break Unbroken", because it's coming out in the theaters in a few months.

I hope they don't transform an awesome book into a mediocre movie.

What am I concerned that the movie get right? Principally, the fact that it was God, a personal God, the Christian God, who intervened at key moments in Louie's life. The book is a biography about Louie, but it also unabashedly touches on the theme that there is a bigger story afoot. That God is sovereign over Louie's life.

But to stick to one small vignette from the book that moved me, let me paint the scene...

Louie got sucked into World War II along with a few dozen million other young men, and had the misfortune of a crash at sea. Misfortune might be misstatement, however, because while many others died in countless ways, Louie lived. Out of a dozen men on the plane that crashed, he and two others survived. Three men dragged themselves out of the sea and onto a raft.

And began to float.

The story from there is long, and one man died eventually. But some weeks into their long journey on a short raft, Louie and his remaining companion Phil found themselves at the end of the end.

The book (excerpted here) describes it thus...

"One morning, they woke to a strange stillness... There was no wind... The ocean stretched out in all directions in glossy smoothness... It was an experience of transcendence. Phil watched the sky, whispering that it looked like a pearl. The water looked so solid that it seemed they could walk across it.

For a while they spoke, sharing their wonder. Then they fell into reverent silence. Their suffering was suspended. They weren't hungry or thirsty. They were unaware of the approach of death.

As he watched this beautiful still world, Louie played with a thought... Such beauty, he thought, was too perfect to have come about by mere chance. That day in the center of the Pacific was, to him, a gift crafted deliberately, compassionately, for him and Phil.

Joyful and grateful in the midst of slow dying, the two men bathed in that day until sunset brought it... to an end.

I find this passage particularly moving because I am so often filled with ingratitude. But here, lying under an unrelenting sun, two depleted skeletal men facing imminent death find ecstatic gratitude for a placid ocean scene.

As I reflect upon their experience, I'm challenged to the core. Do I see God's beauty around me?

I should.

I could stop there but the next scene begs mention.

A bit of backdrop must be noted here. You see, Louie wasn't even religious at this point. More to the point, I'm not even sure the author of this biography is either. She is certainly fair to his story, and recounts it well. But I wonder if she (or Louie) caught an interesting detail in what is recounted next.

The two men had just got through rejoicing in the midst of a great quietness. Now came the show.

"On the fortieth day, Louie was lying beside Phil... when he abruptly sat up. He could hear singing. He kept listening; it sounded like a choir. He nudged Phil and asked him if he heard anything. Phil said no. Louie looked up.

Above him, floating in a bright cloud, he saw human figures, silhouetted against the sky. He counted twenty-one of them. They were singing the sweetest song he had ever heard.

Phil was the one with the deep faith, and yet Louie is the one who saw the angels. Oh, the inscrutable decisions of God. To leave Phil without a ticket to an angelic visitation granted, seemingly, only to Louie.

This is the story as Louie and his biographer recounts it. What I can't help but wonder, however, is whether either of them appreciate the ironic timing of the angelic visit to the fortieth day at sea?

Give God a bit of credit for a sense of humor.

After all, isn't there a story in the Bible about a boat lost at sea for 40 days and 40 nights? With no land in sight? I'm wondering if God has some contractual obligation (beyond the rainbow promise) to send encouragement to those who find themselves at sea alone for that long.

Islamic State Gives Us A Fresh Taste Of Holocaust

I think the title of this post sums it up. But as I read an email on these evil people, I found myself struck by a feeling that gave me pause.

Denial.

Everyone knows these wicked people have beheaded several journalists. But there is a persistent rumor that they are also beheading Christians in large numbers, including and especially Christian children.

I found myself not wanting to believe that this part is true.

There are always a few hokey videos saying that this or that Islamic group is marrying grown men to very young girls. Regardless of the prevalence of this practice, the videos themselves are often hoax footage or totally misused footage having nothing to do with child marriage.

My desire today was to treat the rumors of child beheadings the same way. Exaggerations? Might they be? Surely?

And then it struck me how it must have been for Americans hearing rumors of Nazi atrocities. Surely they were trumped up? Yes?

Well, sometimes... No. I looked around a bit online and was not encouraged. Snopes took the rumors seriously and surprised me with an unsolicited photo: the body of a beheaded child.

To behead a child is to find the lowest rung of depravity. At least the Nazis didn't drape the name of God over their hellish deeds.

So here I sit. But what I need to be doing is praying. Is there more I can do? Not a lot. The problem is on the other side of the globe.

So as I write this, I feel rather helpless. My options are few.

Except to pray.

May I be faithful in this much.

And may God answer the prayers of his saints around this troubled globe.

Don't Die Defending Hills You Haven't Named

I got angry with someone yesterday. Someone I love very much. In the process of working through that situation, I came to a painful realization.

I was defending the wrong hill.

It was my own words that caught me out. My own bitter words. Things I myself said helped me to name the hill I was defending.

And once the hill had been named? I knew it was the wrong hill.

It was not a hill worth dying on.

My hill's name is not a secret I need to keep. It's this: I Am Smart.

That's an ugly name for a hill. Which is fitting, because the hill is ugly too.

So why do I defend this hill? Why is it a hill I'm willing to die on?

Because I have buried some of my dignity at the top of it.

Yes, my own words last night caught me out. Gave my hill a name. The name was always there. I just hadn't taken the time to find out what it was.

Bad hills are a dime a dozen. There's no shortage of bad hills to die on. I Am Smart is just one of many. I chose that hill because I'm pretty bright.

But there are many others to choose from, and most of us have buried our dignity at the top of the ones we find easiest to climb. There are patches of fresh dirt dotting the summits of other local peaks named I Am beautiful, I Am Powerful, I Am Athletic and I Am Rich, to name but a few.

(I Am Spiritual has a lot of freshly turned soil too. I know this to be true because I've been to the top of that hill myself. Several times.)

But hills that are easily ascended are also easily descended. Hills named after our talents and earthly attributes cannot be held indefinitely.

I need to stop and name the hills I'm defending. The ones I cannot keep.

And move on to a better hill with a better name. One worth dying on.

Golgotha means Skull. That doesn't sound real hot, but that, my friends, is the hill Jesus chose to die on. He bids us to follow him up the same hill.

No, death to self doesn't sounds very rosy or safe. But paradoxically, this is the road to life. And what's more, the dignity Jesus gives to us no one can ever take away. It's a dignity we don't have to hide, protect, or defend.

Golgotha is a hill worth dying on.

I Bet You Can't Catch Me

I know what it means when my little son says that.

"I bet you can't catch me!"

I know what that means. But first let's review what it doesn't mean.

It doesn't mean he thinks he's faster than me. He's not, and he knows it.

It also doesn't mean he thinks he's stronger than me... smarter than me... It doesn't mean any of that. He's not planning on winning this competition. Not by speed. Not by strength. Not by agility or cunning.

No. He expects to lose. In fact, he hopes to lose. That's his goal.

"I bet you can't catch me!"

Yes, I know what that means.

It means he yearns for intimacy with his father. And he wants it now. I know all this. And it makes me glad when he says those words.

Yes, these words are a playful invitation. But there is an underlying current of danger, too. You see, my son hopes very much to lose....

But he's also worried that he will win.

Winning means he is alone. Unloved. Unwanted.

Winning means he is not worth chasing.

So when my son throws up this challenge, a lot is at stake, and timing matters. I must respond like a surfer who just got word that the waves are perfect. I must drop everything and take up the chase. Now. Even a five minute delay will come with costs.

These opportunities don't happen every day. In fact, as I was writing this reflection, I took a break to see this same son off to the school bus. He was most definitely in no mood to be chased. Yesterday? Yes. Today? No.

But this reflection is not actually about my son. It's about my Father.

Our story begins on a sofa where I was reading a few pages each from two separate books earlier this morning.

I read first about the Azusa Street Revival from Richard Foster's Streams of Living Water. Wow, that would be awesome. To be touched by God's Holy Spirit as those people were. Reading about it just makes you hungry!

I read next from Philip Yancey's Reaching for the Invisible God:

"In the interest of full disclosure, I also must confess that I have little personal experience of the more dramatic manifestations of God’s presence. I have sat in prayer meetings in which everyone around me saw this as a grievous flaw and beseeched the Holy Spirit to come down and fill me."

I yearn for that Azusa Street experience. I want a powerful intimacy with God. Sadly, I've never seen Azusa Street. I live on Yancey Drive.

As I sat by myself on a sofa quietly reflecting once again on this reality, I got more than a little frustrated. I wanted to taunt God like an atheist.

"I dare you to douse me in the Spirit!"

As soon as this urge entered my mind, I hurriedly began to usher it out. That's usually what I do. After all, God is not someone you want to mock.

But this morning as I was ushering these frustrated challenges out the back door of my mind, I suddenly remembered my son's sassy taunt.

And realized that I have been wrong by at least half.

If I know what my child means when he taunts me this way... If I love to hear his mocking words... If I respond by initiating a joyful chase?

How much more will my God in heaven be able to see past the taunt and cherish the hidden meaning? And also the hidden fears.

Yes, God wants me to taunt him. He wants me to do so with the expectation that I will lose.

Well, along with Yancey I'm still very much afraid that I will win. I have a long winning streak behind me. That's my reality.

But I'm suddenly feeling a lot safer in offering up the wager, and that's good.

Therefore let the cosmos ring with my bold challenge to God...

"I bet you can't catch me!"

God-Spotting: Episode 3

Disclaimer: the rules of engagement are:
1) I heard the story first-hand from the person who experienced it.
2) I trust this person. I am sure they are telling the truth.
3) In fact, this person might even be me.
4) I'll respect the person and keep their identity a secret.
5) I leave it to the reader to decide if they believe in a God who...

I was with a client. We were discussing a dog in its final days who was in great pain. I had just said that my brother would be putting the poor thing out of its misery soon.

She looked at me pensively and said, "You know, Pilgrim, the dog might not be in as much pain as you think."

"What makes you say that, friend?" I asked.

She said, "I was once on the operating table and had lost a lot a blood. At one point, the pain went away entirely."

"And," she went on to say quietly, " I saw myself on the table from above it."

I had been listening. Now I was listening intently.

"Tell me more."

She said, "There was no pain at all, and I had an incredible peace. There was a white door. But I couldn't go through it because I had a 4-yr old girl who needed me."

She shared a bit more, but these were the things that stuck with me.

And one other thing.

She reiterated something several times during the course of the conversation.

"I'm not afraid of dying. I'm not afraid one bit. I know what awaits me, and it's wonderful."

God-Spotting: Episode 2

Disclaimer: the rules of engagement are:
1) I heard the story first-hand from the person who experienced it.
2) I trust this person. I am sure they are telling the truth.
3) In fact, this person might even be me.
4) I'll respect the person and keep their identity a secret.
5) I leave it to the reader to decide if they believe in a God who...

This one is fresh. Happened just this past week.

We'll call him Jim.

Jim was sitting at his desk when he suddenly felt compelled to call an old friend. We'll call the friend Bob.

They had been in closer contact in the past, but now Jim didn't even have a phone number for this friend Bob.

They were friends on Linked-In, however, so Jim found the company. Called the main line.

Jim worked his way through the company directory. Got a number.

Called it.

"This is Bob."

"Bob? This is Jim."

Gasp.

The gasp was audible on the phone line.

Bob recovered.

"Jim, I wanted to call you last night, but I didn't. I was tired of calling you when I needed you. I was too ashamed to do it again..."

"...But I did ask God to have you call me."

God Spotting: Episode 1

Disclaimer: the rules of engagement are:
1) I heard the story first-hand from the person who experienced it.
2) I trust this person. I am sure they are telling the truth.
3) I'll respect the person and keep their identity a secret.
4) I leave it to the reader to decide if they believe in a God who...

This was many decades ago. He was a child, perhaps 5 years old, when it happened.

He was in his house playing next to the fireplace, doing whatever he was doing. No one else was near him. There was a fire going in the fireplace, and his father was in a different room... shaving in the bathroom, to be precise.

All of a sudden, his dad came rushing into the room, grabbed him and forcefully threw him away from the fireplace.

And just then it happened. The fireplace exploded.

An aerosol lying among some garbage in the fireplace had blown up.

He could have been injured. Blinded? Killed? Hard to know.

Because it didn't happen. His father threw him to safety.

Why? How did his father know? This question haunts him to this day.

It's not that he lacks an answer. It's the answer itself that haunts him.

"How did you know?" he had asked his father.

"God told me," his father replied.

I've shared this story with a few friends since hearing it, and I found myself puzzling over one detail. I went back to him with a question.

"God-spotter, why was the household garbage in the fireplace? It was in your house, right? Did you burn garbage that way back then?"

"No, Pilgrim. That wasn't our ordinary practice. My sister threw the bag of garbage into the fireplace that day. She had never done it before, and she never did it again."

"So your dad had no idea she had done that?"

"No. For all my life I cannot escape it. I know God saved me from harm that day."

The Downside Of Soccer As A Religion

Two more games. Then the curtains fall for World Cup 2014.

Once more, however I find myself reflecting on bigger themes as I watch these sometimes riveting games.

I don't think I'm breaking any fresh news as I note that Brazil got decimated yesterday. 7-1. Wow.

It's not nice to wish for someone's downfall, but frankly I was hoping for it all along. Never happier than to see a long-overdue thrashing. Watching their pathetic flopping (Neymar even flipping) with Columbia and other teams was a puke-inspiring event. Wasn't the tone properly set by that PK-winning flop in their very first game against Croatia?

But now that Brazil has gotten their come-uppance, one I don't doubt will be doubly sealed on Saturday against Netherlands...

I confess that I now feel sad for them.

Not that they didn't need this moment. I just hope they move on quickly. But. But. To what? Move on to what?

Well one avenue of thought would be an improvement in their soccer program. I heard a talking head suggest that during the aftermath.

But I'm thinking bigger than that. I've got a better idea.

I hope Brazil ditches their graven image. Their sick, sick idol.

Yes, soccer is a very sick and twisted religion in Brazil. Does anyone need to see their national anguish to realize how very much they have placed into this game? The soul of the very nation is in anguish.

Jesus had something to say about that.

Matthew 6:20-21
But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

It's not hard to see where Brazil stores a hell of a lot of their treasure. They're a second-rate nation, economically speaking. But in soccer they have always fancied themselves a first-rate nation. Shoot, they thought they were God's gift to soccer.

At some point I think the devil had a hand in the matter, however, because God's not into spotted white idols that bounce.

So trouble was bound to come back to roost. Yesterday it did.

I'm reminded of a passage from the Old Testament where some pathetic soul gets his collection of stone idols stolen. Here's his lament, given to the very men who stole his rock collection.

Judges 18:24
He replied, “You took the gods I made, and my priest, and went away. What else do I have? How can you ask, ‘What’s the matter with you?’”

Or was that what Brazil said to Germany after yesterday's game? Perhaps I'm mixing up my sources.

No, I don't think soccer balls make for good idols.

But the USA does well to note: neither does a stellar GDP.

My treasure is in heaven, with God. It's really, really safe there.

I'll enjoy soccer. But it's just a game.

Someone needs to tell that to the folks in Brazil.

Severe Mercy

Denied the goods that would have pleased
We turn to best, though not with ease.

They weren't poor fare, which caught our eye
But these can blind and best deny.

It was a mercy that loosed our grasp
From things most prized and tightly clasped.

For when we lost all hope for them
Our eyes turned onward, and we saw Him.

The One Benefit From Knowing The Final Score

In just a week the World Cup will be over. Around that point, I might stop thinking about parallels between soccer and life.

For about 4 years. Then World Cup 2018 begins and all bets are off.

But that's a week from now, and my mind was at work today.

Yesterday I unfortunately discovered the final score on the Germany vs. France game before I had the chance to watch it.

Bummer.

I watched the game anyway, and it was well played by both sides. That said, the drama was (for me) missing. I knew who would win.

There was an upside too, though, and it got me thinking.

When you know you're going to win, there's nothing to worry about.

Duh. A tautology. That insight won't win me any prizes.

But it nevertheless reminded me of just how very often in life I worry pointlessly. It's rather pathetic, when you think about it.

The Soccer Game

A corner kick. Normally a nail-biter. I could get worried...

But I know the final score. I remain calm.

A yellow card and a free kick against my team. I could get upset...

But I know the final score. I remain calm.

Opponent blatantly flops. Referee falls for it. I could get upset...

But I know the final score. I remain calm.

Life

Something goes wrong in my day-to-day routine.

I know the final score, but I still get stressed and upset!

Someone wrongs me. Gets away with it.

I know the final score, but I still get stressed and upset!

On and on we could go. But it makes no sense. I shouldn't be worried.

But I am.

How stupid is that? But we all do it a lot.

Worst part? Jesus knew we would. That's why he repeats himself.

Matthew 6:25-34 (heavily abridged)
“Therefore I tell you, do not worry...
Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?
“And why do you worry about clothes...
So do not worry...
Therefore do not worry about tomorrow..

We know how it all ends. Isn't it time we stopped worrying?

We should worry much less and risk much more. We're going to win.

The Beatitudes Revisited: Always More To See

Matthew 5:1-3
Now when Jesus saw the crowds, he went up on a mountainside and sat down. His disciples came to him, and he began to teach them.
He said:
“Blessed are the poor in spirit,
    for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Luke 6:17-20 (abridged)
[Jesus] went down... and stood on a level place. A large crowd of his disciples was there and a great number of people from all over... who had come to hear him...
Looking at his disciples, he said:
“Blessed are you who are poor,
    for yours is the kingdom of God.

So begin the two accounts of Jesus' Sermon On The Mount. And anyone who reads them side by side carefully will notice something that has occupied commentators for centuries: they're not the same. Not the same at all. Similar? Very much so. Different? Very much so.

There are three basic solutions to these textual discrepancies. I'd like to dispose of the first two quickly.

1. The Unbeliever's Response: It's all fiction anyway.

Nope. Not gonna fight that battle here. People don't usually come to Jesus through fact-finding missions or scholarly debate, but rather because they cannot resist him or his words. I assume here that we already love Jesus and/or want to understand his words. Moving on.

2. The Inerrantist's Response: There are no discrepancies.

This solution insists that either (1) Matthew and Luke recorded two different sermons, or (2) the sermons were in perfect accord when Matthew and Luke wrote them down, but over the centuries diverged due to transcription errors. Yeah. Someone else can fight that battle. Abandoning hills nobody should have died on in the first place is one of my favorite activities these days.

3. My Response: We might have a problem here...

It never bothered me that the sermons weren't quite the same. As has been pointed out by all rational observers, if you ever find two 50-page historical accounts written by two different people about the same topic, you're not looking at history. You're looking at either plagiarism or a conspiracy.

I'm glad that Luke and Matthew are not in verbatim agreement. They're reconstructing (imperfectly) a real sermon that Jesus really did preach several decades earlier — and not inventing a new one.

No, my problem begins with the fact that the sermons were different.

Here too, if both meanings were easy... that wouldn't be a problem.

"Those who love God will care for the poor."
"Those who love God will be kind to their enemies."

These two statements differ in both word and intent... but since neither statement is controversial, it's less vital to determine which one really came from the sermon as quoted.

But Matthew and Luke give us no such luxury. For Luke, it's the poor who are blessed. For Matthew, it's the poor in spirit who are blessed.

Those are two entirely different kettles of fish, and neither claim is the sort of truism we can pass over with the wave of a hand. Why?

Because the blessing promised is heaven itself.

Ahhh... Therein lies the problem.

Christians get their underwear bunched up in a very big wad on that "Who gets into heaven?" question. To be sure, it is indeed a very important question, though I would never phrase it that way.

So now, depending upon what baggage we bring to the table, we might have an awful lot riding on which version of the beatitudes is right.

Luckily for me, and for the length of this blog, I don't. Why?

Because today I discovered something new about these beatitudes that I had not noticed before. This gem comes from Dietrich Bonhoeffer's The Cost Of Discipleship but no doubt has been discussed elsewhere for centuries. For me, however, it's new stuff.

The obvious part I had not notice for three or four decades is this: Jesus didn't preach the beatitudes to just anyone, but rather to his disciples. Go see for yourself! Reread the above passages carefully!

To be sure, there is a crowd nearby. But Jesus speaks the beatitudes to a much more limited audience. His disciples. And it's a truism that all of Jesus' disciples are saved.

If Jesus addressed the beatitudes specifically to his disciples...

The beatitudes are promises given to followers of Christ.

That unwinds not a few complications for me!

A true disciple of Christ can expect to experience poverty. That same disciple can also expect to experience poverty of spirit. Jesus assured his disciples that they'd endure hardships.

But neither flavor of poverty is the true source of the blessing. Nor mourning. Nor hunger. Or thirst, figuratively or otherwise.

The blessing comes to them because they belong to Jesus.

I wanted to end this blog with the above sentence, but Luke throws us a twist that demands further reflection. The woes.

Luke 6:24-26
“But woe to you who are rich,
    for you have already received your comfort.
Woe to you who are well fed now,
    for you will go hungry.
Woe to you who laugh now,
    for you will mourn and weep.
Woe to you when everyone speaks well of you,
    for that is how their ancestors treated the false prophets.

Someone playing the devil's advocate (a game I play all the time) might point out that these woes hardly make sense if also preached to the disciples directly. How does one square that problem away? That's a perfectly fair question, but notice the next verse.

Luke 6:27
“But to you who are listening I say...

Verse 27 indicates that Jesus is no longer addressing solely his disciples. He's now addressing the entire surrounding crowd, and it only makes sense that he's been addressing them ever since he began to speak about woes. It makes no sense at all for Jesus to preach damning woes to his own select disciples.

So Luke's careful wording ushers us out cleanly of that conundrum.

Thank you, Matthew, Luke, and Dietrich. I'm much obliged.

What Jesus And Tim Howard Have In Common

I heard this one from a friend...

Q: What's the difference between Tim Howard and Jesus?
A: Jesus had 11 guys he could trust…

I loved it, but felt there was another approach that could be taken.

Try this one on for size...

Q: What do Jesus and Tim Howard have in common?
A: Both worked with a team, but it ended up a solo project.

Alternative answers wait like low-hanging fruit... Such as...

A2: They were both good at saving.
A3: ...but both had to die before it was over.

And for this soccer fan, there's always the hope that resurrection will figure in the future for USA at the World Cup.

Of course, anyone who knows me knows I hate it when sports becomes a religion. So this is all very tongue-in-cheek.

But it proves I do have a sports bone in my body, after all.


[For extra credit... and this will only make sense to Monty Python fans.]

Q: What does the 2014 World Cup US Soccer team have in common with Monty Python's King Arthur?

A: Both enlisted the aid of a wizard named Tim while seeking to obtain a precious cup.

Ba-da-dum.

I made that one up all by myself!

James Bond Was Right: The World Is Not Enough

[Alternative title: Soccer and End-Times Eschatology...]

So I finished my prior blog with a question.

When God reviews our lives, which parts would he call highlights?

More on that in a bit. First, an opening rhetorical question. Is God holding back the final day pointlessly? (Said another way, does God like boring, scoreless soccer games that lack highlight-worthy plays?)

No. God has stayed his hand because there are things yet to be done.

What needs to be done? How long will God wait? The following scripture passage hints at answers to both questions.

2 Peter 3:3-10 (abridged)
Above all, you must understand that in the last days scoffers will come... They will say, “Where is this ‘coming’ he promised? Ever since our ancestors died, everything goes on as it has since the beginning of creation.” But they deliberately forget that ... the present heavens and earth are reserved for fire, being kept for the day of judgment and destruction of the ungodly.
But do not forget this one thing, dear friends... The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.
But the day of the Lord will come like a thief. The heavens will disappear with a roar; the elements will be destroyed by fire, and the earth and everything done in it will be laid bare....

Many Christians, whether they know this particular scripture passage or not, are in agreement with two key ideas that can be found in it.

1) God is waiting because he wants more souls in heaven.
2) When Jesus returns, the whole universe will be doused with fire.

What's dangerous about these two thoughts is that they are both true.

Few things are more dangerous than an incomplete truth.

What do I mean? I mean that there is a third idea that gently glides in on the heels, seemingly implied by ideas #1 and #2.

3) God doesn't care about anything in the universe besides souls.

This third idea makes the Christian objective between now and judgement day quite clear. Focus like a laser on saving souls.

And that's exactly what Christians often do (if indeed they do anything publicly with their Christian faith at all). Many Christians treat this planet like it's a rapidly sinking ship — one from which we must hurriedly rescue dying souls.

The problem is, idea #3 is not true.

When we only value human souls, we miss the scope of God's plan.

So... What is the scope of God's plans? For starters, it's big. Really big.

Colossians 1:15-20 (abridged)
The Son is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible... all things have been created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven...

What I take away from this passage is that when Christians fail to live in line with the Great Commission (Matthew 28:16-20), we not only miss the mark, but in fact miss it by orders of magnitude.

Let's be clear about this: in this universe there are many things. And only a few of them are human souls. If Paul had wanted to be more specific and restrictive, he could have chosen other words.

But he did not! To the contrary, Paul makes it clear that Jesus is in the business of redeeming stuff that's not even on this planet.

Meaning? It's not simply "all about souls". It just simply isn't.

God is in the business, rather, of redeeming all of creation.

But Christians often treat the Earth like it's temporary and disposable.

Bad enough that we Christians frequently fail to demonstrate our allegiance to a God who wants to reconcile all people to himself.

Worse still, we even more frequently fail to demonstrate our allegiance to a God who wants to reconcile the universe to himself.

As I write this, a part of me squirms. God can create entirely new universes at whim. In that sense, this universe is rather disposable. And surely people are the pinnacle of creation. God's finest work.

But we must always remember how the Bible begins:

Genesis 1:31
God saw all that he had made, and it was very good.

No less important! We must also remember how the Bible ends:

Revelation 21:31
Then I saw “a new heaven and a new earth,” for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God...

A new earth? Then the old one is disposable! Not so fast. The new earth is situated squarely in the midst of the old one. That's why in Revelation 22 we see a reference to a tree situated next to a river of life which flows down the middle of the new Holy City.

Revelation 22:2b
"And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations."

Think for a moment. If God were planning to start entirely from scratch, there would be nothing to heal, right? But that's not the case.

It's a fact that God prefers to redeem things. Not destroy them.

So let us align the words of Peter next to those of Paul and John. God loves his universe and has a long-term plan for it. Yes, Judgement fire will indeed come. But it will refine all things. Not obliterate them.

[This blog is already overlong, but this tangent beckons... John the Baptist fell into the same error we risk here. He completely misunderstood the nature of the coming fire. He knew the Messiah would come and baptize "with fire" — and clearly thought it would be a consuming fire of judgement. Jesus, the Messiah, carefully turned that ship around, gently correcting his cousin's error.

And when the fire finally came? Tongues of flame hovered the heads of his believers. The fire of the Holy Spirit came not to consume, but to bless. We do well to guard our own assumptions about how God will use fire in the future.]

Concluding Thoughts

A moment of Christian honesty. Close your eyes. Listen to these words. "We need to save the animals and protect our land and air!"

Now imagine where you are. Who said these words?

Are you at church? Did you just hear a pastor's voice? Or are you hearing the words of some movie star at a Greenpeace rally?

For me, the latter scenario is easier to imagine. That's very sad.

I'm now ready to take a swing at that original question.

When God reviews our lives, which parts would he call highlights?

I don't precisely know. But I can say this much with confidence.

1) God cares a great deal about how I treat other people.
2) God cares a great deal about how I treat animals.
3) God cares a great deal about how I treat his planet.

Suggest #1 in an American church and you're safe.
Go on to suggest #2 and you might get a few sideways glances.
Throw in #3 with references to climate change and oil consumption?

In America, that could mark the start of a good church brawl.

I found this comment in someone else's blog. It's a good closing word.

Martin Luther is reputed to have said, “If I knew the world would end tomorrow, I would plant a tree.” The saying does not appear in his collected works, but it’s the sort of thing Luther could have said, maybe even should have said. It’s very similar to a Jewish saying, “If you have a sapling in your hand and they tell you that the Messiah has arrived, first plant the sapling and then go out to greet him.”

Trees figure prominently in Eden. And in the Holy City yet to come.

Could my planting a tree now be counted among God's highlights?

Quite possibly. God clearly likes them a lot.

Boring Soccer Games And Boring Lives

So I finished my prior blog with a note to self: As in soccer, so in life. Don't waste the game watching the clock. Play the game while you have time.

Good soccer games are not boring. Brazil vs. Chile was riveting.

Bad soccer games can be excruciatingly boring, and never more so than when it seems neither team wants and/or knows how to score.

Having watched Greece vs. Costa Rica last night, I speak from experience. The first half was so stultifyingly boring, I only watched the highlights of the 2nd half.

(Thankfully, this was an option. I wasn't watching the game live.)

But wow, folks... Even the 2nd half highlights were boring.

More fun than watching the game was reading the reviews of the game. Here are some choice comments I found:

...Drama seemed highly unlikely at the end of an excruciatingly dull first-half when the crowd in Recife, which was far from capacity, made their feelings known by whistling and jeering the teams into the break.

...Sometimes, the movement of a soccer ball can be hypnotizing. The worst time this can affect someone is when they are playing in a World Cup match, and trying to prevent said ball from entering their net, slowly.

Enough said on soccer. What about our lives?

Let's not give God lives that are so boring that he'd be tempted to skip whole years at a time. Nobody makes movies about couch potatoes.

I had just deleted those prior words. They seemed overly obvious.

And overly harsh.

Nobody makes movies about couch potatoes.

I had just deleted the words, and then my wife walked into the room and proceeded to inform me that someone we know is ailing.

This woman married young. Never got a job. Reached 400+ lbs on a diet of maybe 5-10 hours of TV a day. That was her life for 60+ years.

And now her clock is running down. Fast.

Does she belongs to Jesus? Yes. Is she nice? Nes. But if I reviewed her life, I'd fast-forward through decades of self-imposed sofa time.

How terribly sad. And I feel harsh putting these words down.

But we do ourselves a disservice if we don't take a plain look at our own lives and the lives of those around us with eyes wide open.

God has given us the gift of life. And a mission.

Are we going to give him a highlights film?

Most of this blog seems a repeat of the prior one. But I have a motto.

Never say with one blog on boredom what you can stretch into two.

In my next reflection, I'll get to what I had intended to write here.

Thoughts in response to this question....

When God reviews our lives, which parts would he call highlights?

To be continued...

What FIFA Referees Have In Common With God

Certainly not omniscience! (This will come as no surprise to anyone who saw the Nigeria v Bosnia game.)

No, not omniscience. Nor a perfect sense of justice.

But I won't keep you in suspense. The answer to the riddle is this: they both have final say on when the game is over, and the moment they choose to end it is shrouded in secrecy.

A silly riddle? Sure... but I didn't come up with it on purpose. It's the byproduct of another realization that's been rattling around in my head over the past week or two.

The reality is that I sometimes feel (in life) a bit like a soccer player trying to figure out how to play out the minutes.

Anybody who has watched recent World Cup games knows what I'm talking about. Take the USA v Ghana game. The Americans were fortunate enough to score in the first 30 seconds.

But the game lasts 90 minutes. So what do you do now?

Well, here's a bad idea. Try to "play out the minutes" with an insipid passing game. Watch the clock wind down.

Problem is, when you're not playing to win, you're usually playing to lose. And your opponent is likely still playing to win.

As it worked out, Ghana tied up the game at 82 minutes. Oops. The Americans were fortunate enough to score again and win, but rest assured the Americans got a bit more frantic once the score was tied.

And who can forget Portugal pulling a tie against the sleeping Americans in the last 15 seconds of the game? Double Oops.

Enough on soccer. What about life?

Well, truth be told, sometimes I feel like I'm not playing to win.

What exactly do I mean?

When you're playing to win, time is your friend. More time means more opportunities for you to score.

When you're playing the clock, time is your enemy. More time means more opportunities for you to be scored upon.

Sometimes I feel like I've lost my motivation in life to actively accomplish things — and I'm just trying to not give in to sin while I wait for God to wind my clock down.

That's not what God had in mind for me. Not the attitude God wants me to have. It's a very dangerous place to be, spiritually speaking.

So I should have higher aspirations than sin-avoidance? Yes. The Apostle Paul has already described it well. And he used a sporting analogy to boot!

1 Corinthians 9:24-27
Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like someone running aimlessly; I do not fight like a boxer beating the air. No, I strike a blow to my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.

In short, St. Paul exhorts all of us to become like Christ.

So... What does that look like? A hint. Here's what it doesn't look like.

Wherever Christ went, people didn't say, "Wow, here comes the sinless man! Look at how he never does anything wrong!!"

No! Jesus was indeed sinless, but that wasn't his calling card.

What did people say about Jesus? Try these on for size.

John 7:46
The officers answered, “No one ever spoke like this man!”

John 6:68
Simon Peter answered Him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have words of eternal life."

Luke 11:14
Jesus was driving out a demon that was mute. When the demon left, the man who had been mute spoke, and the crowd was amazed.

Luke 9:42
Even while the boy was coming, the demon threw him to the ground in a convulsion. But Jesus rebuked the impure spirit, healed the boy and gave him back to his father. And they were all amazed at the greatness of God.

Luke 7:16
They were all filled with awe and praised God. “A great prophet has appeared among us,” they said. “God has come to help his people.” This news about Jesus spread throughout Judea and the surrounding country.

So the hallmark of "Jesus in town" is not absence. It's presence.

It's action. Someone doing good. Someone speaking words of life.

When Jesus is around, people say, “God has come to help his people.”

I cannot resist a silly analogy. Jesus scored an early game-winner. But 2,000 years later the clock is still running.

The referee says the game is still on. How do we play out the minutes?

Are we playing for a 1-0 victory? Well, we might be, but God is clearly not. If a 1-0 victory were sufficient, God would have blown the whistle a long, long time ago. God is looking for action.

FIFA and St. Paul together remind me to keep my eye on the prize.

Not the clock.

To Be Continued...

Two Debts Of Gratitude To India

About five years ago I found myself working closely with two Indians, one a Christian and the other a Hindu. I no longer work with either of these friends, but I'll never forget them.

They each gave me a gift.

Fasting

The Christian (we'll call him Jeevan) fasted regularly. Every Friday, in fact. Jeevan informed me that everyone in his home church does that. Fasting is part of life's rhythm for them.

Here in America it's hard to find people who fast regularly. I had fasted on a few occasions, but it had never occurred to me to make a habit of it. That's just something Americans don't do.

After observing Jeevan, however, I decided that this American wanted to give that habit a try. I never looked back. Weekly fasts are now deeply etched into my life's rhythm.

Fasting brings many benefits. In some future blog perhaps I'll get into those perks, but here I'll simply acknowledge my debt of gratitude to Jeevan and to India.

Vegetarianism

Yes, the Hindu (we'll call him Amit) was a practicing vegetarian.

As a Christian I felt rather relieved that my faith did not require me to practice vegetarianism. So I didn't.

But Amit's habit was not lost on me nor forgotten. As the ensuing years passed, I never lost sight of the reverence that some Hindus give to animals. Obviously I don't believe in reincarnation or have any confusion over the holiness of cows and monkeys.

But a respect for animal life... that is something many Hindus have, and it's something many Christians have lost. I felt that loss.

But meat tastes good (!) so for years I continued to postpone making a change in my diet. In recent weeks, however, I finally did face my thoughts head on. I decided to become a vegetarian. And when I did, Amit was not far from my thoughts.

Two friends brought Indian customs to American soil.

Their practices were foreign to me at first. Now I call them my own.

Thank you, Jeevan and Amit. Thank you, India.

All My Heroes Are Certifiably Insane

The heroes who inspire me all died some time ago, but to me they're more alive now than ever.

So who are these certifiably insane, dead, living heroes?

Let's start with Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a poor soul who lacked the common sense to leave Nazi Germany when offered safe passage to American soil.

No. Worse than that. He took up the offer, and did visit America.

And then didn't have the common sense to stay. The year was 1939.

I celebrate his uncommon sense.

Bonhoeffer explained his rationale to his friend Reinhold Niebuhr.

"I have come to the conclusion that I made a mistake in coming to America. I must live through this difficult period in our national history with the people of Germany. I will have no right to participate in the reconstruction of Christian life in Germany after the war if I do not share the trials of this time with my people... Christians in Germany will have to face the terrible alternative of either willing the defeat of their nation in order that Christian civilization may survive or willing the victory of their nation and thereby destroying civilization. I know which of these alternatives I must choose but I cannot make that choice from security.

So he returned to Germany where he involved himself in Christian ministry under a watchful Nazi eye. His story cannot be done justice in a small blog, so I'll simply note that he was killed by the Nazis just a week or two before the war ended.

Certifiably insane. By most reckoning.

My hero, nevertheless.

Today, I am reminded of this blog because I've added another name to my list of heroes: Father Jerzy Popieluszko, a Catholic priest who spoke out against communism in Poland during the 80s. He and Bonhoeffer were truly cut from the same cloth. Neither had the common sense to abandon sinking ships.

After a failed assassination attempt on his life, he was offered a stay in Italy by his superior, but he refused to leave Poland. On October 19th, 1984 he was murdered by three officers of the Służba Bezpieczeństwa.

Certifiably insane. By most reckoning.

My hero, nevertheless. But whereas Bonhoeffer died quietly in a dark corner of Nazi Germany, Popieluszko died under the watchful eye of all of Poland. He was a national hero even before he died. Largely because he was insane. He stood up in a pulpit, Sunday after Sunday, and made himself a red-circled target for the authorities by calling them out for what they were: cowards and bullies.

When the bullies killed him, 800,000 sane Poles attended his funeral. It was one of the big tipping points for Poland on its march to freedom from Communist rule.

There are others, of course. Martin Luther King, Jr. comes to mind, along with less well-known names like Jim Elliot.

All the best heroes are insane.

After all, who but the most insane would follow a man who said this?

Matthew 16:24-45
Then Jesus said to his disciples, "Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it."

Sane people don't rally to this call.

But then again, sanity is in the eye of the beholder.

"He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose." — Jim Elliot

Those words aren't crazy. They are logical. The question is this:

Are we insane enough to believe them?

His Happiest Moment

I recently asked what Jesus would have called his proudest moment.

That was, as my daughter sometimes says, "a toughie."

I soon found myself asking this follow-up question:

"OK, and what was his happiest moment?"

That one is much easier to answer, so this reflection will be short.

Luke 10:21
At that time Jesus, full of joy through the Holy Spirit, said, “I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children. Yes, Father, for this is what you were pleased to do.

Of all the deeds and words that have been recorded by Gospel writers, I gather that this is the passage that shows Jesus to be most full of joy.

When does it take place? It takes place after the disciples he sent out (in his own name) return — with exciting news to report.

Luke 10:17
The seventy-two returned with joy and said, “Lord, even the demons submit to us in your name.”

So Jesus' joy follows on the heels of his disciples' joy.

And why are they themselves so joyful?

The disciples are full of joy because they discovered that the power of Jesus went with them, even when Jesus was not around.

So why is this the high point in Jesus' three years of ministry?

I think Jesus was beside himself with joy because he was, for the first time, watching his Church in action.

Granted, the church is properly understood to have its birth in Acts, but Jesus wasn't around for that part. Not bodily, at least.

So Jesus was getting the sneak preview. Watching the movie trailer. And he was beside himself with joy, in anticipation of the upcoming full-screen release.

Not everyone is always happy to hear the word "church". Frankly, I understand why. I've had a few "church" run-ins, myself.

But while "little c" church antics can wreck us on rocks of despair...

It's good for all of us (myself especially) to remember this:

The happiest moment in Jesus' life (that we have recorded, anyway) was when he saw his true Church in action for the first time.

May God help me to be part of that joy-inducing Church.

...And give Jesus another good reason to smile.

Yes, Virginia, Heaven Is For Animals Too

In Alice in Wonderland the Queen proudly notes that she has believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast. My brain is not that flexible, so vegetarianism spares me a fair bit of ongoing discomfort.

What do I mean by this? I chose two for-instance examples.

I covered the first in my prior blog post.

Time for the fat lady to sing. Last thought.

Children everywhere love their animals, so every parent who's had a pet in the house eventually gets the question.

"Will <name your pet> go to heaven?"

Many children (and adults like myself) want to see their pets again.

The promises of God give Christians a wondrous hope. But does this hope apply to people only? Or does it apply to animals too?

Most of us don't have a clue, so we get a bit ham-fisted in our reply.

Do we need to be so unsure? Does the Bible have nothing to say on the matter? Most serious Christians I know are pretty ambivalent.

I am more confident in the assurances I give my children. Here's why.

Let's turn to the book of Jonah. It ends with Jonah quite angry with God because God didn't utterly destroy the ancient city of Nineveh.

God, in turn, is angry with Jonah.

Jonah 4:10-11
Then the Lord said, “You feel sorry about the plant, though you did nothing to put it there. It came quickly and died quickly. But Nineveh has more than 120,000 people living in spiritual darkness, not to mention all the animals.

First and foremost, God cares about the people within Nineveh.

But the sphere of God's care doesn't end there.

God also cares about all of the animals within Nineveh.

Now some can argue that this passage of scripture has nothing specific to say about what future awaits animals after their death.

Fair enough, but think about it. If God loves these animals, doesn't it make sense that he might not have a "second death" in mind for them?

But for those who remain unconvinced, weightier evidence exists.

A few blogs back we considered "(Plan B)" — Genesis 9:1-3.

It will now serve us well to now carefully consider the verse that directly follow this passage. God had a bit more to say on the topic...

Genesis 9:4-5
...But you must not eat meat that has its lifeblood still in it. And for your lifeblood I will surely demand an accounting. I will demand an accounting from every animal. And from each human being, too, I will demand an accounting...

So animals will be held to account??

For what? Killing humans? For killing other animals? Something else?

The passage is vague on the details. But one thing is clear.

Animals will be held accountable for their deeds. When?

I repeat. When?

I think the answer is perfectly clear. After their lives are over.

Ironically, even for humans the afterlife was not a widely held concept when this text was written.

By the time of Christ, however, the order of events was known.

Hebrews 9:27
Just as people are destined to die once, and after that to face judgment...

So that's when humans will face their maker. It doesn't make sense to assume anything different for the animals, since God referred (with similar words and in the same section of text) to the accounting both would face.

So animals, like us, will one day see their life in review. That doesn't make much sense if there is no afterlife whatsoever awaiting animals. What sort of life it might be is beyond me to guess at. But doesn't the possibility of judgement imply also the possibility of reward?

I think it does.

But anyone (myself included) who hopes to see their pets again in the afterlife has to consider an unpleasant scenario. It's this...

If dogs can be in heaven, so can pigs. And cows.

Along with chickens and hamsters...

And while we may be excited to see our dogs and hamsters again, conversation with the pigs and cows we ate could prove awkward.

I'm just saying...

Now that's the kind of incongruity that causes my brain discomfort.

The Queen may enjoy six impossible things before breakfast, but if enjoying bacon for breakfast ups my incongruity count by just one?

Maybe you can just pass me the cereal.

I have, of course, spoken a bit tongue in cheek. Whatever awaits us in the afterlife will need to include a lot of mercy for much greater wrongs than the bacon we ate for breakfast.

But here again, I retreat (confidently) to a simple logic noted at the end of an earlier blog on this topic.

If I am awaiting a better world...
and that world includes Fuzzy the hamster...
and Old Yeller the dog...
and Charlotte the pig...
and Bossy the cow...

Perhaps now is a good time to arrange my eating habits accordingly?

OK, on that thought, one last verse for the road...

Romans 8:19
For the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed.

Yes, we humans look forward to the end of all death and suffering.

Can the animals we eat be blamed for keenly sharing our sentiments?

Not to be continued any time soon....

Promise kept: this link is from several months later.