Steak Knives In Our Pockets

We wouldn't do it, right? Walk around with sharp steak knives in our pockets? No. Most of us wouldn't.

We don't put them among our bedsheets, either. Not unless we're planning to re-enact one of those scenes from a movie we never should have watched in the first place. No. Most of us wouldn't.

We don't carry sharp steak knives around. It's just not something we do. Steak knives are great in the kitchen. Not so great in our pockets. So many places they don't make sense. So many ways to hurt ourselves.

We tell children, "Don't run with scissors!" Yeah. We keep the scissors in special drawers and try to keep kids from running around with them in their hands. Problem is, scissors and steak knives are bloody useful, if not always useful bloody. That's why kids like scissors. And adults need knives. What to do.

So we came up with the idea of sheaths for the especially sharp knives. You know... those things that make knives hard to use except for those brief moments when you need them? Yeah. Sharp and dangerous things come with protective wrappings. To keep those blasted things from doing their thing on the wrong things.

If only we had as much wisdom with our phones. We don't just run with them. We do everything with them. More or less. Less, too. We do less, and are less, every day on account of them. We arrive at hell unaware of the road we took to get there. Too busy watching the lit screen to realize the ticket we bought a few miles back.

People are worried about rampant opioid addiction? Opioids? They only taken down 1 out of 100.

Opioids and steak knives have got nothing on the cell phones we carry in our pockets. Those phones? They're not sharp, but they sure are smart. And the people who make them, too. They're smart enough to get rich off our stupefying spiritual poverty.

If we were smarter, we wouldn't be so stupid. And we'd be richer for it.

When Programmers Talk Theology

There is a better, longer version of this post. And maybe I'll get to it one day!

In the meantime, let this be a stub for a future post. And here true programmers may call me out for an inadequate understanding of the term stub, but therein lies the stub rub: I'm on a crash course to learn the latest concepts, nearly all of which have been bandied about for 10+ years, and some for more than twice that long. I'm not the person to best explain these terms (or use them properly) from a programming perspective. Maybe next week I will be.

But to the point of this brief placeholder post: two of the terms that really caught my attention are "Dependency Injection" and "Inversion of Control". The former is related to the "Dependency Inversion Principle" which lends itself even more to the intentions of this reflection.

Seriously? Are we talking programming or theology? Well, if you want to know what these terms mean from a programming perspective, here's a link. As for theological uses, that website may not be out there, but I'm thinking there ought to be one. Think of the applications!

For example (and here I am using only headlines taken straight from the website link provide above):

• Inversion of Control — Let God be God, and maybe you're just along for the ride?
• Dependency Injection — See above. (Those word are good for at least two meanings.)
• YAGNI (You Ain't Gonna Need It) — Applicable to how we think about earthly treasures?
• Boy Scout Rule — Applies to code and probably to good Christian living, I'd think.

Well, enough on that for now. I don't have to write any theological treatises today, and nobody else has time to read them anyway.

New Lows In A Culture Only Dimly Aware Of How Dark It Has Become

I just saw an ad on YouTube that revolted me. It wasn't difficult to confirm via Google that I'm not the first to have noted that it had searingly obvious sexual sadomasochistic innuendos. This article notes...

"In one spot for Devour, which is aimed at men aged 25-35 and has a marketing campaign rolling out Monday, a boss finds his employee having an intimate moment with his lunch, which the excited man gives a sexy slap with his fork. The brand's suggestive tagline and campaign name is "Food You Want to Fork."

Of course a part of me feels I am giving life to this sickness by including the above quote here in this blog. That said, what disgusts me now will soon be as endearingly quaint (at least by way of comparison with the advertising filth that is yet to come) as the first marriage bed did when it was first permitted to be seen in a television sitcom a few decades ago.

At some point, one keeps arriving at the naive conclusion that "surely the bottom is near?" It's not. Just you wait, Henry Higgins. Just you wait. There is no bottom. It's filth. All the way down.

But I don't want to end this reflection on this note. The above is what Satan would have for us, but God has not given up on the human race yet. In fact, I found myself reaching for a verse and quickly realized the one I wanted hails from the book of Romans.

How fitting! Paul began his epistle to the Romans with a grave indictment no less somber than my own.

Romans 1:18-24 (excerpted)
The wrath of God is being revealed from heaven against all the godlessness and wickedness of people, who suppress the truth by their wickedness... Their thinking became futile and their foolish hearts were darkened. Although they claimed to be wise, they became fools... Therefore God gave them over in the sinful desires of their hearts to sexual impurity for the degrading of their bodies with one another.

Yes, America may be reaching for new lows, but we have not yet caught up with the depths of darkness plumbed by ancient Rome. Not yet. But we will. And therefore we should, along with Paul, remember the hope we have in Christ. So let us not dwell on the dark assessments of Chapter 1 but rather cling to the promises we find in Chapter 8.

Romans 8:18-19
I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. For the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed.

Yes, times are dark, and growing darker still, at an ever increasing pace. The pangs of labor grow sharp. But one day Jesus Christ our Lord will be revealed. Let us be shown on that day to have carried the weight of his glory within us.

Treat. It. Like. The. Game. It. Is.

Those were my very own words.

I was hot. Angry, hot. My child was getting worked up about something or other that a sibling had said while we were all playing a game of street hockey.

The details? Ever so irrelevant. It was just another ridiculous case of one child giving the other no grace after the other child had said something that could have been taken in a good spirit... but which wasn't...

And on and on it goes.

So when my child started to gripe, and with a whining voice threaten to remove the pleasure from the game we were playing, I got hot. "DROP IT NOW..." I said with a raised voice, "And. Treat. It. Like. The. Game. It. Is." This child has learned not to mess with Dad when Dad moves into that tone of voice, so the game proceeded, and pretty soon we were back into fun mode.

One major reason why I get so frustrated is that there is so little at stake. When the game is over, we get on with the rest of the day. The rest of the week. The rest of life. Within a few short weeks, nobody will be able to recall the score, the people who made those goals, or the plays that led up to the goals. All will be lost to time.

We would hope, however, that the time we spent together would be remembered in a more fundamental sense for much, much longer. Let it be remembered that we loved each other. That we played games together.

But the score? The gentle ribbing? Sigh. Do my children not see how unimportant these things are in a game of no consequence?

Fast forward a day or two. I was driving home. A sunny day. Well fed. Healthy. Coming home to a good and nice home. With healthy children. A loving wife. The list of blessings? It could have gone for pages.

Yeah, but you know what I'm going to say next. Was I happy? Not so much. I was grumbling to God about a few things in my life that seemed quite wrong. Things that, in fact, are quite wrong.

But I didn't get too far before I remembered. I am not going to be on Earth forever. A day is coming when the things I wish were otherwise will be gone forever. These things will not concern me in eternity.

You'd think that thought would have given me comfort. But it didn't. "God!" I thought to myself as I drove, "That's why I need this fixed NOW. It won't matter when I'm dead."

So, yeah. I thought that little thought over a bit. And chuckled. I'm no better than my child. Unable to realize that the passing pleasures and blessings of this life cannot compare with what awaits us. Might I miss out on a few good things here on Earth? Most surely. I'm sure we all do. And yet here I am unwilling to take the longer view. Insisting to sit in my mud-puddle, lamenting things I won't miss in 50 years.

Oh, God. Please forgive this petulant child. I can be blessed now. I can enjoy this life, too. If I will but relinquish dwelling on my wounds, I can revel in God's blessings which far outweigh all else.

And when I have passed from this life? I can then dwell in your presence, knowing joys so beyond my present experience that no words could ever capture their essence. And I'll also see clearly in hindsight that, through every moment of the former life—even the dark valleys... Yes, Yes, even there—you were present with me then, too. Present with me then, too.

As I wrote the closing words to this post, I found myself becoming aware of the music playing gently in the background.

You are my shepherd there's nothing I shall want
Beside still waters You lead my spirit on
Your hand will guide me no matter where I walk
Through darkest valley Your love is not far off

I will dwell in Your house forever
Lead me on

I fear no evil, for You are with me
You set this table before my enemies
And You anoint me You overflow my cup
And they will follow me, Your goodness and Your love

I will dwell in Your house forever
Lead me on

Your rod and Your staff are a strange mercy
In a world where I'm not yet home
Your rod and Your staff are a strange mercy
In a world where I'm not yet home

I will dwell in Your house forever
Lead me on
And I will dwell in Your house forever
Lead me on

— Audrey Assad

When St. Paul Has A Hammer...

There is that old saying: If you have a hammer, everything around you starts to look like a nail.

It struck me recently that perhaps a biblical corollary can be spelled out along similar lines. When St. Paul has a point to hammer in, he can be pretty inventive in how he employs the use of various biblical (and even extra-biblical) texts as nails suitable to task. (So... that statement wasn't nearly as pithy or short, but there you have it.)

I should begin by asserting my personal belief that Paul, fallible as he was, was used by God to establish the worldwide Church. In this reflection I have no intention to suggest that Paul's letters are not to be trusted, much less to imply that they were not inspired by God.

Written by a human? Yes. Holy Scriptures? Also, Yes.

But that won't stop me from coming in with eyes wide open, willing to see a fallible and real man behind those inspired words. Moving on...

As modern understandings (based upon very reliable scientific advances) continue to chip away at the heart of the inerrantist view of the Genesis story, one thing that used to bother me suddenly does not bother me quite so much, anymore. I refer here to the story of The Fall. If Adam was not a literal, flesh-and-blood, particular individual, Paul's argument in Romans 5 start to look a bit shaky—at least, as I used to read it.

I've been reading through Romans recently and this conundrum hit me in the head again. But another thought introduced itself, and here I introduce another disclaimer: I'm not a theologian. I'm not even a particularly well-read lay wannabe theologian.

Plain English, please?

I mean to say here that I may be treading on shaky theological ground unawares. And on the other hand I may be on soil so well trod that it's packed down by the feet that have already gone this route. I'm not even sure which analogy is more appropriate. What I am sure of is this: the conservative response will no doubt be to suggest that I am not on soil, but rather quicksand. Meanwhile, the far left long ago abandoned theological terms like infallible and inerrant, so I'd guess they'll suggest I'm walking on a paved road. I feel, for myself, like Peter–trying to walk on water while keeping my eyes on the Lord. Never more than a moment away from starting to sink.

But let's move on. What do I wish to say here? It's this: I think that, in Romans 5, Paul latched upon Adam as a wonderful "nail" to hammer away at precisely because the point Paul wanted to make dealt directly with The Fall and with Jesus. Paul saw a beautiful sermon illustration waiting like low-hanging fruit: a comparison between Adam and Jesus. Both of them were, needless to say, "one man". This is not rocket science, but let's just look at the passage with that focus in mind....

Romans 5:12-19
Therefore, just as sin entered the world through one man, and death through sin, and in this way death came to all people, because all sinned—
To be sure, sin was in the world before the law was given, but sin is not charged against anyone’s account where there is no law. Nevertheless, death reigned from the time of Adam to the time of Moses, even over those who did not sin by breaking a command, as did Adam, who is a pattern of the one to come.
But the gift is not like the trespass. For if the many died by the trespass of the one man, how much more did God’s grace and the gift that came by the grace of the one man, Jesus Christ, overflow to the many! Nor can the gift of God be compared with the result of one man’s sin: The judgment followed one sin and brought condemnation, but the gift followed many trespasses and brought justification. For if, by the trespass of the one man, death reigned through that one man, how much more will those who receive God’s abundant provision of grace and of the gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man, Jesus Christ!
Consequently, just as one trespass resulted in condemnation for all people, so also one righteous act resulted in justification and life for all people. For just as through the disobedience of the one man the many were made sinners, so also through the obedience of the one man the many will be made righteous.

Now needless to say, this is all terribly significant stuff. I'm not such a theological novice as to be unaware that a ton of Christian doctrine is pinned on this passage. I get that. But take a step back and look at it again. It wasn't Adam who introduced sin to the world, according to the Genesis account. If we're going to treat it inerrantly (which I don't), that honor goes to Eve.

Of course, of course! I know. I'm not the first to have noticed this. And there's going to be a work-around, to be sure. Adam as the representative. Adam as the one to whom the commandment was given.

Yada. Yada. Yada.

But wipe the excuses off the table, and we're back to the fact: It was Eve who first sinned. We, men and women, are equally sinful. Equally in need of God. Equally in Christ, our redeemer. And, according to Genesis, it was Eve who first sinned.

So why does Paul hammer away at Adam? My 2 cents? Because it suited his sermon illustration.

(I'm waiting for the lightning to strike.)

Seriously. Some theologian will tell me I'm pulling the pin out beneath a skyscraper, but I am not feeling it. Sin definitely came into the world. And Jesus leads the way out of the mess we made. But even as science chips away at any last notion that there was a first, single, "My name is Adam" individual, so too I am feeling that Romans 5 doesn't require it either. An inerrant approach to the topic should have used Eve in the first place. But Paul didn't.

And what led me to get this reflection down was the realization that St. Paul really did play a bit loose with his illustrations. After all, he said the same thing I just said. When? He did it when the sermon called for a woman.

1 Timothy 2:13-14
A woman should learn in quietness and full submission. I do not permit a woman to teach or to assume authority over a man; she must be quiet. For Adam was formed first, then Eve. And Adam was not the one deceived; it was the woman who was deceived and became a sinner. But women will be saved through childbearing—if they continue in faith, love and holiness with propriety.

Oh, yeah, this passage causes a lot of heartburn, and for entirely other reasons that relate to gender equality and all of that. I'm not here to pick it apart for those reasons. I post it here to note the simple thing about it, and it's this: St. Paul had a point to make, and it suddenly became convenient to refer to Eve as the first sinner. In this passage, it is Eve who first introduces sin to the world. Can we just acknowledge that fact, together?

I'm probably trying to accomplish too much by throwing this next bit in, but I see (for myself, at least) a bit of the same free-wheeling "sermon-on-the-fly" approach in this next one, too...

Galatians 3:15-29 (excerpted)
Brothers and sisters, let me take an example from everyday life...
...The promises were spoken to Abraham and to his seed. Scripture does not say “and to seeds,” meaning many people, but “and to your seed,” meaning one person, who is Christ.
...What I mean is this...
...So in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith... for you are all one in Christ Jesus.
... If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise.

What I don't doubt or question is that by God's sovereignty, this passage is Holy Scriptures. But take a step back and also call it what it looks like: Paul moving fast as he shares "from the pulpit." One minute the seed is singular. And that's really important. Because it's Jesus. *NOT* a bunch of people. A moment later, it's plural. Because we are one with Christ. It *IS* a bunch of people. And for Paul's purposes, both are true, and I do get what he means. But he is having his seed cake and splitting it two. We can acknowledge that, can't we?

Or how about Jannes and Jambres?

2 Timothy 3:7-9
They are the kind who worm their way into homes and gain control over gullible women, who are loaded down with sins and are swayed by all kinds of evil desires, always learning but never able to come to a knowledge of the truth. Just as Jannes and Jambres opposed Moses, so also these teachers oppose the truth. They are men of depraved minds, who, as far as the faith is concerned, are rejected. But they will not get very far because, as in the case of those men, their folly will be clear to everyone.

Once again, we see Paul pulling out a sermon illustration, and as one able to relate to the common man, he uses known personages. Paul compares evil men that we as Christians should avoid to "Jannes and Jambres"–except that those names are not from the Old Testament. The names themselves are about as "factual" as the names of the three wise men that visited baby Jesus.

Don't know what I'm talking about? If so, you were probably raised in different Christian tradition—or perhaps a non-religious home. I didn't grow up with those names. To me they were just three wise men. But many Christians grew up knowing the names Balthasar (of Arabia), Melchior (of Persia), and Gaspar (of India). With all due respect, however, we don't know their names. (And isn't that convenient that these three individuals covered three distinct regions of the known earth??) There's absolutely no reason to assume those names (or place of origin) are accurate. There is no such information in the gospel account! And if out of four gospel accounts only Matthew notes them, it's not as if their names and their stories were commonly known. These extra details pop up (out of the blue) literally hundreds of years after Matthew penned his gospel. For hundreds of years, their names were not known. And then suddenly we know them. Right.... Sure....

[Editor's note: In point of fact, the astute reader may have noted that my reference to three wise men itself isn't an accurate one. Why? Because St. Matthew referred to magi, but he gave neither names nor a count of how many there were. The rest is tradition, which most of us Christians have swallowed either in part (the count of three) or in whole (hell, we even know their names and place of birth!). Admit it! Many who didn't grow up with names did grow up with three wise men in every picture and every nativity scene. But most of us didn't notice that the number three is no less contrived than the names and origins others have helpfully added to the narrative!]

Friends, this same logic applies to Jannes and Jambres. How credible would the claim be that the names of two Egyptian magicians would pass unmentioned for (literally) more than a thousand years!!! Unmentioned. And then. Suddenly. Their names are known.

Really? And we believe this??

Or might it be that the names Jannes and Jambres were invented later? Just maybe? But the point I am making is not to criticize Paul -- he's just speaking to peers in terms that both he and they commonly understand. Jannes and Jambres. We have our three wise men. They had Jannes and Jambres. The bad guys. Isn't that the part that matters? My point is that Paul is only doing that. I don't have to hang my faith on the reliability of these two Johnny-come-lately names any less than I hang the truth of the incarnation on the names of the [three] magi that Matthew never counted, let alone named.

The point Paul made to Timothy stands just as well without the sermon illustration as it does with. Jannes and Jambres don't make or break the significant things Paul had to say. Not in this passage. Nor, I venture to say, in Galatians. Or in Romans.

So I end this reflection with this simple conclusion. I'm not as worried as I used to be about how to square our scientific understanding of origins with Paul's treatment of Adam as one, particular individual. Paul was making a point, and his point stands. Sin entered the world. That's the point (among many others) that we can take from the Genesis account, and Paul reiterates it. As for the singular Adam? Adam "himself" isn't the lynchpin to this argument. Which is a relief, because it's (in my heart, at least) quite clear that there was no lonely first individual raised up from literal dust, as if by CGI magic. God could have done it that way. But I don't think he did.

My faith survives that statement just fine, and realizing now (my opinion, anyway) that Paul used Adam (instead of Eve) because he was a great counter-balance to Jesus makes me feel more comfortable that, as with Genesis, so with Paul. Don't read into the words more than God requires.

I take Paul's conclusions on faith, not least because they are good and lead to godly living, but also because most of them do not rest upon precarious science. In those rare cases where they do, however, the conclusions are still trustworthy. (We have a sin problem that dates to our very origins. And I don't doubt Paul's counsel to Timothy was well-advised.) But I don't think God requires us to cling tenaciously to things science has helped us to see were never the case.

There will, of course, be some things in the Bible that science cannot speak to. We call them miracles. And I believe they happened and happen. So, for the record... science will never explain how Jesus rose from the dead. Science assures us he did not. I still believe Jesus did rise from the grave on the third day. This gives me hope based upon faith. Science, in contrast, provides no hope beyond the grave–and never will.

Turning Left: Clearly The Right Decision

This reflection follows on the heels of a prior reflection on God's rather pointed insistence that Paul "Turn Left." I ended the prior reflection with my shoulders shrugged and my hands in the air. Like this: \_(ツ)_/ And for several days, that's where I thought the matter ended. But as I continued to read, I discovered today a twist I had not considered before. Let's return to that map I shared on the last pass...

As the map shows quite clearly, this "Turn Left" decision took Paul on to Troas instead of Asia. Guess who was waiting there in Troas? Nobody important. Just Luke, the man who authored the book of Acts that I'm now reading.

Yes, I'd known that there was a turning point in the book of Acts, where Luke suddenly starts pointedly using the phrase "we". The first time he does so?

Acts 16:6-10
Paul and his companions traveled throughout the region of Phrygia and Galatia, having been kept by the Holy Spirit from preaching the word in the province of Asia. When they came to the border of Mysia, they tried to enter Bithynia, but the Spirit of Jesus would not allow them to. So they passed by Mysia and went down to Troas. During the night Paul had a vision of a man of Macedonia standing and begging him, “Come over to Macedonia and help us.” After Paul had seen the vision, we got ready at once to leave for Macedonia, concluding that God had called us to preach the gospel to them.

It feels quite strange to find myself using the exact same map and exact same passage from scripture, just a few days later, and this time seeing a connection there that I never noticed before. I find myself imagining Luke's growing awareness of the significance of the events surrounding Paul's first pass through Troas.

I myself have a special friend that God brought into my life by a set of bizarre circumstances. It was immediately clear that God's action had brought us together, but only as the friendship continued to grow did I more fully appreciate how very much came from a very small beginning. (Irony of ironies... this dear friend I speak of hails from Istanbul, Turkey. I met *my* friend by turning right where Paul turned left.)

Returning to Luke, I have to imagine that a few years passed before he began to begin to understand how very much had blossomed out of a seemingly small decision. If Paul had turned right, their lives would not have intertwined as they did. Or perhaps at all. I used the word began for a reason, and it's too generous by half. Luke could not possibly have begun to understand how his writings would impact the world after they took their rightful places in the new Testament.

If. Mystery.

But to reduce the answer to our question down to one variable is surely too simplistic. I don't think God was thinking only of Luke in the midst of all this. My 2 cents say that God was also focusing Paul in on a particular piece of geography, the purpose being to strengthen and build the base of God's church in Macedonia. Asia would have to wait. That is wild speculation, to be sure, however I do note the confluence of these two threads (Luke and the strengthening of the Macedonian church) in the passages that follow.

(What a debt of gratitude I owe to the countless Bible scholars who have sifted all this stuff before! My Bible commentaries have been a great help to me, today.)

So why do I see these two thoughts coming together seamlessly? Well, note first that Paul met Luke at Troas, but left him in Philippi. I won't get into the passages that make this conclusion clear, but this is the general consensus view, and it leads us to to the $64,000 question: When does Paul meet Luke again? Most pointedly (to me, anyway), he does so on a return journey described repeatedly as one motivated by Paul's desire to strengthen the churches he had planted on the prior pass.

Acts 18:23
After spending some time in Antioch, Paul set out from there and traveled from place to place throughout the region of Galatia and Phrygia, strengthening all the disciples.

As if to complicate the time/space continuum even further, Paul's decision to return to Jerusalem (Acts 19:21) is delayed by a riot in Ephesus (Acts 19:23-41) which leads him to instead go where?

Acts 20:1
When the uproar had ended, Paul sent for the disciples and, after encouraging them, said goodbye and set out for Macedonia.

Macedonia. Isn't that where the man in the vision asked Paul to come in the first place? Am I reading too much into this? Let's keep reading.

Acts 20:2-6
He traveled through that area [Macedonia], speaking many words of encouragement to the people, and finally arrived in Greece, where he stayed three months. Because some Jews had plotted against him just as he was about to sail for Syria, he decided to go back through Macedonia. He was accompanied by Sopater son of Pyrrhus from Berea, Aristarchus and Secundus from Thessalonica, Gaius from Derbe, Timothy also, and Tychicus and Trophimus from the province of Asia. These men went on ahead and waited for us at Troas. But we sailed from Philippi after the Festival of Unleavened Bread, and five days later joined the others at Troas, where we stayed seven days.

Wow, I've never felt such a need to bold different sections in a tight passage of scripture, all to track the interactions of four distinct entities: Paul, The Church, Macedonia, and Luke. Let's unpack again, taking it from the top.

A riot in Ephesus seemingly changes Paul's plans. He decides to encourage the churches he has planted where? Macedonia.

After three months in Greece, Paul prepares to return to Syria by sea, but upon discovering a plot he instead heads where? Macedonia.

And, having abandoned his original plans to return by sea, who does Paul meet up with (yet again) in Troas? Luke.

The outrageously bizarre circumstances that bring Paul and Luke together in two different cities on two separate occasions bring to mind two quotes from slightly more contemporary sources. For fans of the play Hamilton we have this: "We keep meeting!" Follow that up with this observation from the James Bond movie Goldfinger. After meeting James Bond for the third time, the evil mastermind Auric Goldfinger comments, "Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. The third time it's enemy action."

Paul has certainly been facing enemy action, too, but the highly ironic twist in this story is that the enemy is not itself Macedonia, nor is the enemy even from Macedonia. But enemy action keeps driving Paul to Macedonia. And when he gets there, he keeps meeting Luke. As can be seen in the below image, Paul ends up passing through Macedonia twice on this journey, the second pass being the one in which Luke joins Paul in a partnership that continues through to the very end of the book of Acts. Spare a thought for Paul's enemies who unwittingly help him to not merely strengthen the nascent Macedonian Church but also to reconnect with Luke.

If one thing is clear from all that we are reading, it's that God has none-too-subtly pinned Paul to a prescribed route, accomplishing the task by means of both angels and devils alike along the way.

A parting thought. I entertained a number of conjectures in this reflection, but there are also enough facts to, I hope, leave us encouraged. In particular, having recently myself suffered a setback at the hands of an evildoer, I find it mightily encouraging to see how events that were setbacks for Paul were not setbacks for God. In Paul's life God used evil people with evil intentions to accomplish good for Paul, for the Church, and for Luke.

And, eventually, for us! We are, after all, the recipients of Luke's gospel account as well as his account of the early church, neither of which we'd have likely ever seen if God had not used the agents of both heaven and hell to get Paul to Turn Left.

Planting Gardens In Prisons

I heard a quote in church yesterday, and it moved me. It is taken from the autobiography of Nelson Mandela, Long Walk to Freedom, in which he described his long incarceration on an island prison.

I've never spent time in a real prison, but I am certainly a prisoner to certain formative themes in my life. I suppose we all are. I have escaped (or been freed from?) some of these prisons. Others seem very much to be a part of my present reality. This blog post is not the forum to delve into the details of these metaphorical prisons, but suffice it to say that I have had particular reason in recent weeks to reflect on the nature of them and my limited hopes for a full escape. Enter this story...

Nelson Mandela, leader of the anti-apartheid movement spent nearly 30 years in prison in South Africa. He would go on to lead his nation toward a better future after his eventual release, but that hope was not on his horizion while he rotted away in prison. Year in. Year out.

So what did he do while he languished in prison? Among other things, he planted a garden. Here are the words that touched my heart this morning:

“The Bible tells us that gardens preceded gardeners, but that was not the case at Pollsmoor, where I cultivated a garden that became one of my happiest diversions. It was my way of escaping from the monolithic concrete world that surrounded us. Within a few weeks of surveying all the empty space we had on the building’s roof and how it was bathed the whole day, I decided to start a garden and received permission to do so from the commanding officer.
...
A garden was one of the few things in prison that one could control. To plant a seed, watch it grow, to tend it and then harvest it, offered a simple but enduring satisfaction. The sense of being the custodian of this small patch of earth offered a taste of freedom.”

I am not the first to have been captivated by what Nelson shared. I see this quote all over the internet, but for me it is fresh and new.

We are all captives to various forms of bondage, and most of those chains are buried in our souls. That being the case, these words challenged me to reflect again upon a simple question. "What, Pilgrim, do you want to plant in your prison garden?" One might reasonably exclaim, "Why plant gardens when you can escape?" I'd reply just as quickly, "Why seek grace and forgiveness when you can just as easily live a perfect life that doesn't require them?"

Yes, ideals are wonderful, but we live in the world of the broken. So what will we do within the confines of the walls we don't know how to scale? What Mandela did in his bricks-and-mortar prison is what we ought to do our figurative prisons. Plant a garden.

In planting a garden, we nurture life. We foster growth. We encourage all that is good, from a plant's perspective. Of course, plants don't have a great deal of perspective when compared to humans, but plants do want to grow, and when we garden, we enable them to do so. That's a good thing.

The fact that I found this quote from Nelson Mandela moving ought to be quite amusing to those who know me. Gardening is not on my short list of favorite activities. Or my longer list. But the thought of gardening as a metaphor captures my heart today. I want to encourage life. To foster growth.

I found this picture of the island where Nelson spent decades of his life. I don't know if Nelson had a view like this from his prison cell, but I suppose he had some view from time to time of the water and, on the other side, Cape Town. I share this image here because in it I found myself reflecting on what it would take to swim the distance.

Perhaps it's too far a swim, but my thoughts had little to do with the physical realities of Robben Island. I was thinking in metaphors. Before I share where my mind was going, however, let's first return to something else Mandela shared regarding his garden.

“Each morning, I put on a straw hat and rough gloves and worked in the garden for two hours. Every Sunday, I would supply vegetables to the kitchen so that they could cook a special meal for the common-law prisoners. I also gave quite a lot of my harvest to the warders, who used to bring satchels to take away their fresh vegetables.”

Nelson could not escape that island. But some of his vegetables clearly did, and the rest of them served to nurture and strengthen the bodies of other prisoners. Though I didn't hear this portion of the quote from the pulpit, it (on both counts) points where my mind was already going as I sat in that church service.

In my mind's eye, I found myself imagining a person raised on that island from birth. A lifelong prisoner who during key periods of childhood lacked the nutrition necessary to develop a full, strong frame. This stunted person has no hope of swimming to distant shores by his own strength. But what if there are others on the island? Little ones who can yet attain full strength tomorrow if only they are well fed today. My heart leaped to the eager conclusion. A garden for others can be a very beautiful thing, indeed. Even in a prison.

Some prisons are of our own design. Some forced upon us by others. Some perhaps decreed for us by the mouth of God for reasons we'll never understand fully here on Earth. But I am certain of two things. First, we all experience them, and second, it is the character of God at work in us to desire that we all be freed from them.

By God's grace we may ourselves escape some prisons. Perhaps not others. But there will always be gardens that we can plant. Souls we can nurture. We can express something of the nature of God by fostering life. Even in a prison. By God's sovereignty we can perhaps help others to walk upon those shores that we ourselves are destined only to see. Writing these words reminds me of a passage from scripture:

Deuteronomy 34:1-5
Then Moses climbed Mount Nebo from the plains of Moab to the top of Pisgah, across from Jericho. There the Lord showed him the whole land—from Gilead to Dan, all of Naphtali, the territory of Ephraim and Manasseh, all the land of Judah as far as the Mediterranean Sea, the Negev and the whole region from the Valley of Jericho, the City of Palms, as far as Zoar. Then the Lord said to him, “This is the land I promised on oath to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob when I said, ‘I will give it to your descendants.’ I have let you see it with your eyes, but you will not cross over into it.” And Moses the servant of the Lord died there in Moab, as the Lord had said.

"Turn Left." (God Said It First.)

I've been reading through the book of Acts recently, and this morning I found myself jotting an odd phrase down on a map in my Bible.

I wrote those words after reading this mysterious passage.

Acts 16:6-10
Paul and his companions traveled throughout the region of Phrygia and Galatia, having been kept by the Holy Spirit from preaching the word in the province of Asia. When they came to the border of Mysia, they tried to enter Bithynia, but the Spirit of Jesus would not allow them to. So they passed by Mysia and went down to Troas. During the night Paul had a vision of a man of Macedonia standing and begging him, “Come over to Macedonia and help us.” After Paul had seen the vision, we got ready at once to leave for Macedonia, concluding that God had called us to preach the gospel to them.

You can see it on the map. Paul and his companions kept moving northwest from Antioch, prevented by circumstances (not elaborated upon) that kept them from turning toward a more easterly direction. We know that the Holy Spirit was behind those circumstances, but what exactly were they? Human hostilities? Bad weather? Travel practicalities? "The bridge was out?" We'll never know.

But one thing we do know: the problem became more pronounced (at least as I read it) as they approached the Sea of Marmara. Paul and his companions had reached a hard-stop T-Intersection and I am here to tell you, friends: They wanted to turn right.

But God would not let them.

It's almost humorous. The Holy Spirit weighs in first. The Spirit of Jesus himself seconds the motion. Unwillingly, it seems, they turn left. But God wants that left to be a big one, so God gives Paul a vision in the night so as to avoid all confusion. The message?

"TURN LEFT. LEFT! LEEEEEEEFFFFFT!"

This mysterious story invites many questions, almost all of which are beyond the scope of human wisdom to answer. One question does seem to be clearly answered, however. Was it important that these men, in that moment, turn left? Umm.... Yeah. Apparently it was. Apparently it was really, really, really important that they turn left. So they went to Macedonia instead of Asia.

But go ahead and ask that next question. Why was it was important that they go to Macedonia? We'll never know. We have no idea why God did not want them to go to Asia. We only know what happened because they went to Macedonia. Of course, the actions of these men were not the only inputs into the history that we now know. But ask any historian worth their salt and they'll tell you: Paul's missionary journeys impacted the course of human history in ways hard to exaggerate.

Perhaps now is a good time to explain my comment in the subject of this reflection: "God said it first." I added that because there is a false god named Dr. Who who inhabits a certain television series by the same name. At the end of the day, it's silly entertainment, but the series is written with intent, and the authors are not Christians. In fact, they are atheists, but they long for a good God, and Dr. Who is their version of him, best I can tell.

An episode titled "Turn Left" is perhaps one of the best-known of the episodes recorded in recent years. I don't want to be sucked into too many details on this, but in this episode a young woman is faced by a similar decision. Turn right? Or left? It turns out to be a decision that impacts not only the fate of Dr. Who but also the course of human history and the fate of the universe.

So there isn't too much at stake.

She turned left, as it works out, and that was good. The problem is, Dr. Who's enemies wanted the other outcome, and so the episode is largely devoted to watching Earth go to hell in a hand-basket (and Dr. Who die) because Dr. Who's enemies went back in time and arranged things so that the woman would instead turn right.

The happy ending to the episode (spoiler alert) is that someone gives up her own life and steps in front of a truck for the sole purpose of creating a traffic jam to the right, thus nudging our other heroine to, once again, turn instead (collective sigh of relief) to the left. History is set right again. (I am reminded of someone else who set history right by means of a sacrificial death. It seems that the atheists writing Dr. Who are searching for a suffering servant, too.)

At the end of the day, Dr. Who is just another TV show devoted to entertaining couch potatoes and, too often, yanking the rug out from underneath the gospel of Jesus Christ. But it's worth noting something. In Dr. Who episodes, we get to see what awful outcome has been averted. In real life, we don't have that luxury. That is sometimes frustrating, but the good news is that, while Dr. Who is not real, God is. And he can be trusted not merely with the outcomes that happen but also with those that did not.

We'll never know what didn't happen because Paul and his companions turned left. But we can trust that it was what God wanted. That's all we really need to know. The gospel of Jesus Christ is universally a good thing, but God did not call Paul to share the gospel in Asia. Period. God called Paul to spread the gospel in Macedonia instead.

This story should be of some comfort to those of us torn between two good things. God is sovereign. And he knows how to get us where we want us, not least if we are listening. And even if we're not hearing, God has a way of making himself heard. Paul was not a reprobate. No rebellious teen, he. No. Paul was a founding father of the global church, to the extent any human can make claim to the title that rightfully belongs to Jesus Christ alone.

If Paul needed multiple nudges from the Spirit of God and a vision to boot—all just to keep him from turning right—then we will need God's help too.

And by the evidence of this passage, I think it's safe to say that when we need God's guidance, we'll get it.

To be continued...

God-Spotting: Episode 4

I had just been to a men's breakfast (this morning) where our guest speaker shared a memory of noticing in his bank account (in the 1960s) he had about $2,000. He had been trusting in God to provide, but now that the money was there, he was starting to trust in the money.

No surprises where he went with this observation: We need to keep our trust in our eternal God on both occasions. When we have money. And when we don't.

I came home and was handling a bit of online banking and noted with satisfaction that there is money in the bank. I'll need it in the coming months. Looks to be a high-learning and low-earning moment in my life.

And then I remembered what that man had shared. Good reminder. Yes, Lord. Please, help me.

Then I turned to another browser tab to get some music playing for the day. Google Play was already in the middle of the song I had hit pause on the night prior. I don't know the songs that well by title, so as I hit play, I really had no idea what I'd hear, lyric-wise. As I did so, the thought entered my mind: "Could these lyrics confirm what I just was thinking?"

Temporary riches lie.

Those were the first words I could discern.

As is my wont, I became curious enough to go online and get the full lyrics. The song, titled All My Tears is from the band Jars of Clay. The song has nothing to say about wealth... except the section that I heard when I clicked the play button.

Gold and silver blind the eye
Temporary riches lie
Come and eat from Heaven's store
Come and drink and thirst no more

Thank you, Lord, for that gentle word. Thank you, Jars of Clay, for your prophetic ministry in music.

Choose Your Addiction Wisely

A friend of mine recently lamented in a blog post that he had recently "looked at [his] iPhone for easily the 300th time" that day.

I understand that addiction, because I have those same urges. It's part of our nature. The makers of our phone know all about it and have optimized the manipulation of those tendencies to their own ends. To the extent we succumb to their manipulations, we are slaves to both our phones and those who run them.

This morning I continued my reading of Henri Nouwen's book Reaching Out. Ironic title, is it not? When we reach for our phones we are reaching out. Reaching in hope of a hit of joy. The lit reward that indicates someone loves us. (That's the hope, anyway.) Reaching, reaching reaching. But the phone cannot deliver what we actually need.

But to return to the book, Nouwen spent several pages describing Hesychasm as it is described in yet another book, The Way of a Pilgrim. (More irony, since my pseudonym for this blog is Pilgrim!) Hesychasm is that practice of engaging in repetitive prayer. The book Nouwen discusses tells the tale of a Russian monk who walks great distances, all the while uttering the phrase, "Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me, a sinner."

The juxtaposition of these two thoughts in my head, both recently imbibed, set my mind to wondering. My friend Pete was writing about the need to escape slavery, and he's right. I'd go on to add this additional suggestion. Escape that slavery to things of this earth by succumbing to a better slavery to the things of God.

For me, a small start toward that would be to utter that Hesychian prayer in those moments when I find I have the time to do either that or to glance at my phone. The reward for the latter is shallow, hollow, short-lived and leaves a metallic-tasting hangover. The reward to the former is a re-formed and re-energized mind and a heart focused on the kingdom of God. Not a bad trade.

My Problem With Jesus Is...

I heard a story the other day, and I can do no better justice than to tell it as I remember it.

So this professor at a Christian college is in the habit of starting off a course in theology by passing out a short survey. The questions are tailored to determine how the students perceive Jesus. What does Jesus believe? What's he like? How would he behave in various circumstances? What are Jesus's core values?

A few months into the course, the same professor then hands out another survey with entirely different questions designed to get a profile of the students themselves. Both surveys are gathering the same sort of information, but by means of different questions, so that students don't spot the linkage.

And when the two surveys are compared? Maybe you guessed it. Students reliably described themselves pretty much as they had described Jesus in the earlier survey. Yes, Jesus is introverted. No, he's extroverted! Monastic. No, he loved parties! A Democrat. No, a Republican! Etc. Etc.

In key attitudes and perspectives? Jesus is just like the person you've asked to describe him. According to that person, at any rate.

As the speaker recounting this anecdote noted, we Christians often pray that God would transform us ever more into the image of Christ. But in practice what happens is the exact opposite. We studiously transform Christ into our own image. And as a result, we probably think we're doing better, spiritually speaking, than we actually are. (Jesus and I see eye-to-eye on so many things!)

And that, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is my problem with Jesus: He looks way too much like me. To me.

The truth, of course, is that I don't look like Jesus. Not to Jesus, anyway.

Something here will have to give, and hopefully it's me. But how can I strive to be more like Jesus if I cannot break free from my preconceived notions of him—images of him that bear a striking resemblance to myself? Well, that thar is a bit of a problem, indeed!

Not to say we don't all know of areas where we have plenty of work to do. Patience. Grace. Forgiveness. Along these fault lines most of us are all too familiar with the ways in which we fall short of the standard-bearer Jesus Christ. But we have a fuller image of Jesus residing in our heads who's not merely sinless but also has strong opinions. What happens when we confront our constructed images of Jesus with the tougher questions?

• How much of my income should I give away?
• Should I just give to my church? How much should I send to Africa? How much to inner-city Americans?
• How much should I spend on my children's college tuition? How much on building elementary schools in faraway African towns?
• How much time should I devote to my children? How much time tutoring underprivileged kids?
• How much time should I spend reading the news? How much time studying scriptures?
• How much time should I spend watching TV and movies? Which ones are OK?
• Should I use corporal punishment with my children?
• Did Jesus tell the occasional dirty joke?
• Which political party should we vote for?
• When should I swallow injustices as good medicine for my soul? When do I seek justice through the court system?
• When do I confront someone with their wrong behavior? When (again) do I swallow the unkindness as humbling medicine for my proud soul?
• How much does Jesus care about the environment?
• How does Jesus feel about the way we treat the chickens that lay our eggs? What about chickens ones we eat?
• Should I buy used cars? Or new? How sporty?

What if, on the above questions, our go-to answer is not WWJD but rather WWID cloaked in WWJD gift-wrap? Uh-oh.

But here's another Uh-oh to lay next to the first. What if we don't even notice that the list of questions itself reflects our own fixations? The list I've thrown together here reveals my personal idiosyncrasies. When I pause and try to imagine another person's list, I can imagine a few questions that perhaps should be of concern to others but are of no concern to me:

• How much effort should I put into looking pretty each morning? Does Jesus want me to dress nicely?
• Should I get involved in running for office?
• Does Jesus want me to include XYZ corporation as my customer?
• How does Jesus feel about the gambling industry? Is it OK for me to go to Las Vegas occasionally?
• How does Jesus feel about cage fighting? Doing it? Watching it?

Suffice it to say, there are many important questions. Sadly, to the extent we answer them at all, we tend to answer them according to our own leanings, and not with the mind of Christ. And there are other questions that matter a great deal to God but which we haven't even bothered to think about just yet.

Yikes. That's not an attractive package, and I have no solutions or pat answers to this problem because it starts deep within you. Deep within me. But I do offer two closing thoughts in the form of a challenging question and a personal prayer.

The question: If Jesus got into an argument with you over something, what would it be about?

The prayer: Dear God, please transform me into the image of Jesus. The real one. Not the one my pampered soul wants and imagines.

Truth Is, Psalms (And Life) Can Be Deceptively Complicated (II of II)

In my prior blog on this topic, I noodled over the seeming disparity between what King David wrote and what he did. I found the wide divergence amusing, but saw no evidence of a crime. It's just that mystery in life. We pray (and need to pray) for God's guidance and deliverance. But in practice we have to make decisions and do our level best to escape bad situations as best we can. More often than not, our own hot little feet have something to do with our freedom from bad situations.

But there's another little paradox hiding in the two Psalms I have been reading of late, and it's not hard to find in other Psalms, either. Here is an example:

Psalm 34: 21
Evil will slay the wicked;
    the foes of the righteous will be condemned.

The Psalms sometimes seem divorced from the ugly realities of the world we live in from day to day. The verse we just read does not easily square with basic political geopolitics. Vladimir Putin is an old man now, and he's been up to unspeakably evil things for decades. Assad has been ruling Syria since 2000, and in the intervening years has taken the entire country to hell; he is personally responsible for millions of refugees and hundreds of thousands of civilian deaths. Then we could talk about the multi-generational dynastic evils present in North Korea. And we can't forget Mugabe, a nonagenarian nutcase who has worked hard over the past forty years to transform the relatively stable and pleasant country of Zimbabwe into just another African nightmare.

With all due respect to the Psalms, sometimes the wicked have a great deal of staying power—and that is both a mystery and a disappointment. But the paradox that has my attention today lies the opposite direction. The seemingly abundant optimism we find prevalent in the Psalms can seem no less divorced from our day-to-day realities than the assurances that the lives of the wicked will be cut short.

Psalm 34: (excerpts)
I will glory in the Lord
    let the afflicted hear and rejoice.

I sought the Lord, and he answered me;
    he delivered me from all my fears.

This poor man called, and the Lord heard him;
    he saved him out of all his troubles.

On first blush those words seem awfully optimistic, don't they? Great stuff if you're in a chipper mood and life is good. But when life has served you lemonade, verses like these can leave you wondering, "When will these promises apply to me?" Sometimes the promises we find in portions of the Psalms don't seem to have played out as advertised in our own lives, and that, too, is both a mystery and a disappointment.

Now these are not new insights, and I'd wager most anyone who has spent more than a passing glance with the Psalms has wondered about such things. But what I keep thinking after further reflection is this... That optimism? It really ain't that optimistic. There are hints of what I'm talking about in the verses we've seen already, but let's look at a few more verses from Psalm 34 before I elaborate on this thought.

Psalm 34: (more excerpts)
The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him,
    and he delivers them.

The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous,
    and his ears are attentive to their cry;

The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them;
    he delivers them from all their troubles.

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted
    and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

The righteous person may have many troubles,
    but the Lord delivers him from them all;

The Lord will rescue his servants;
    no one who takes refuge in him will be condemned.

Now what we've read so far can seem awfully optimistic, but that's only because we're (or at least I have been) focusing on the promise. Take a moment and review the premise.

When you get delivered? That's because you were a captive.

When the righteous cry out? It's because they're in distress.

When you get saved from your troubles? That's because you had them.

One doesn't become brokenhearted without experiencing heartache.

Are you crushed in spirit? That means you've been through hard times. A lot of them.

Have you seen many troubles? Well, that is the heart of the matter, isn't it? Many troubles. We could find many more verses just like these listed here. On and on it goes.

King David, who wrote this Psalm, is describing anything but the Utopian ideal that some Psalms seem to falsely promise. Utopian ideal? Hardly. Some Psalms are more optimistic than others, but this one, that on the face of it is rather upbeat... it's really an encouragement to those who have been put through the wringer. Several times.

Speaking for myself, that is encouraging. Something I can relate to. God has been with me, and God has been gracious to me. But my life has not been one long joyride. Along with David, I have seen many troubles. And God has (as David's Psalm promised) seen me through them all. I know that I will eventually face death and before that perhaps some trials that I will never fully recover from. Anyone with two eyes knows that these things do happen to both godly people as well as to the unrighteous.

But I have seen the lives of the wicked, and I'm not jealous. Assad, Mugabe, Putin and a host of less well-known evildoers may still walk this earth, but I don't envy their lives, and I am not sure they should rightly be described as alive. I think the Psalmist isn't off the mark with these men. Evil has slayed most of the humanity within them.

How wonderful, rather, to plod along with the righteous through my difficulties (both petty and profound), knowing that God, who loves me, is watching me and with me. Even when I struggle.

And one day I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Strength For Today

Sometimes I ask God to help me to never again fall into sin. Never again commit the same sin.

Strangely, that prayer has never been answered. Or not so strangely. For I, like most humans I know, am human. I am frail.

This past Sunday as I wrestled with personal disappointment over my own frailty, I found myself asking God for help not for the next forty years, but for the next seven days. As the prayer was formed in my heart, I found myself encouraged.

God is big enough to help me for seven days. But when I seek forty years of perfection? I think I've been not asking God for help so much as I have been making God promises. Promises I cannot keep. I know I cannot keep such promises because I've made them on a series of occasions that stretch back for decades. I have shown God that I am not faithful.

But over the next seven days, I have a feeling that God is going to show me that He Is Faithful.

And in seven days we can do that prayer again.

Truth Is, Psalms (And Life) Can Be Deceptively Complicated (I of II)

I've been studying Psalm 34 recently, and I found myself alternatively chuckling and reflecting on an odd dynamic to this Psalm that is hidden in plain sight.

Psalm 34: 4-10
I sought the Lord, and he answered me;
    he delivered me from all my fears.
Those who look to him are radiant;
    their faces are never covered with shame.
This poor man called, and the Lord heard him;
    he saved him out of all his troubles.
The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him,
    and he delivers them.
Taste and see that the Lord is good;
    blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.
Fear the Lord, you his holy people,
    for those who fear him lack nothing.
The lions may grow weak and hungry,
    but those who seek the Lord lack no good thing.

Now if this were an English class and we were to analyze the mood, the action, etc., I think it would be fair to say that the author finds God to be active and attentive to the pleas of his rather helpless charges down on Earth. Does that seem a fair assessment? Basically, if we want God's help, we should seek him, look to him, call to him, take refuge in him, and (for good measure) seek him again. And that's just what we see in verses 4 through 10.

Let's look at a few more verses...

Psalm 34: 11-13
Come, my children, listen to me;
    I will teach you the fear of the Lord.
Whoever of you loves life
    and desires to see many good days,
keep your tongue from evil
    and your lips from telling lies.

So the first rule of thumb for good living and a long life would appear to be truthfulness and a careful watch over your mouth. All well and good!

But here's where it gets just a bit silly. Run your eyes back to the top of this Psalm now and read the dedication.

Psalm 34
Of David. When he pretended to be insane before Abimelek, who drove him away, and he left.

So... David wrote this song after an event characterized by two things. First, David saved his own skin. Second, he did so by deceiving Abimelek.

Let that sink in for a bit.

So we have a Psalm that first celebrates how an active God gets helpless people out of tight spots, and then which proceeds to identify truthfulness as the key to having a long and good life. And who wrote it? A man who literally just saved his own life by means of a self-conceived, brilliantly executed, command-performance deception.

True, David might not have outright lied to Abimelek, but then again, maybe he did. Did he claim to be Napoleon? Abraham Lincoln? OK, maybe not those future personages, but perhaps Hammurabi? Did he say impossible things? Or did he just moan and froth at the mouth? We'll never know, but one thing David did not do is shoot straight with Abimelek. Far from it.

So what do we make of this curious dichotomy? I have no pat answers, but several questions come to mind.

When the Psalms exhort us to trust in God to save us... how does that play out with our active role in the matter?

When the Psalms exhort us to be truthful... when is it OK to fudge that commitment a wee bit. How much is a wee bit?

David has given us his answers. And maybe they're not perfectly right. Or maybe they are. For the record, I do see real value in that line, "Pray as if all depends upon God; act as if all depends upon you." It certainly seems fair to say that this was David's modus operandi, given what we've seen here. Where truth-telling is concerned, too, we all know that there are certain situations in life where it seems, before God, that deception is the best option we have out of a bad hand. Can anyone fault David for what he did to escape his predicament? Not me.

I find in this Psalm a reassuring reminder in the midst of my own daily dilemmas that life, even life as a child of God, is a complicated and murky business for us frail humans. God knows this, and, thankfully, is merciful. As the Psalm ends, it appears that David is comforting himself with the very same thought.

Psalm 34: 22
The Lord will rescue his servants;
    no one who takes refuge in him will be condemned.

(This reflection to be continued...)

Double-Blind Fanaticism

Blind fanaticism is a familiar enough phrase, and it's usually not much of a compliment, except perhaps among others of the same tribe. What does blind fanaticism look like in writing? Not entirely unlike some Psalms I've been reading recently. For fun–but also for a reason–I've re-worded one such Psalm as if it had been written in devotion to the Cubs, who finally had their moment of post-1908 glory when they won the World Series last fall.

Clap your hands, all you Cubs fans;
    shout for the Cubs with cries of joy.
For the Cubs are awesome,
    the greatest team in all the earth.
They subdued opponents,
    the entire league under their feet.
They won the championship,
    the pride of Chicago, whom they play for.
The Cubs have ascended amid shouts of joy,
    yes, amid the sounding of trumpets.
Sing praises to the Cubs, sing praises;
    sing praises to our Cubs, sing praises.
For the Cubs are champions over the entire league;
    sing to them a psalm of praise.

If you're not a rabid Cubs fan, those words make for pretty bizarre reading. I'm not a rabid Cubs fan. Being a Chicagoan, I could be forgiven for loving the Cubs, but I don't. I could care less about baseball, so the above paraphrased Psalm goes down my throat like a jagged rock.

But let's put it ourselves through it one more time, this time with feeling. We'll keep this one shorter:

May the owner of the Cubs be gracious to us and bless our team
    by signing up lots of stars
so that the Cubs can win all the games,
    and their awesomeness be recognized all over the world.

Uhgh. It screeches in my uninterested ears–I hate to think how it'd sound to a bitter cross-town rival White Sox fan.

Where am I going with this? Well, this is the thing. The above paeans to the Cubs are not faithful parallels to the Psalms they derive from. I changed key meanings and even left verses out. The versions below include corrections (in bold) to those errors and omissions. Just focus on the bold parts...

Clap your hands, every last baseball fan;
    shout for the Cubs with cries of joy.
For the Cubs are awesome,
    the greatest team in all the earth.
They subdued opponents,
    the entire league under their feet.
They won the championship,
    the pride of Chicago, whom they play for.
The Cubs have ascended amid shouts of joy,
    yes, amid the sounding of trumpets.
Sing praises to the Cubs, sing praises;
    sing praises to our Cubs, sing praises.
For the Cubs are champions over the entire league;
    sing to them a psalm of praise.
The All-Star game is a gathering of Cubs,
    because the entire league essentially belongs to the Cubs
    and the Cubs are to be greatly respected.

OK, so that was weird. And then this...

May the owner of the Cubs be gracious to us and bless our team
    by signing up lots of stars
so that Cubs fanaticism might become the norm everywhere,
    and Cubs victories be celebrated by every fan all over the world.
May baseball fans praise the Cubs...
    may all baseball fans everywhere praise them.

Enough! The first drafts were bad enough, but now we're in La-La Land. The entire baseball world simply won't become Cubs fans. Not gonna happen!

And that is precisely the point I'm trying to make, because the Psalms attempt an even less probable feat. Never mind baseball. Let's talk blood and guts rip-your-enemies-to-shreds ancient rivalries. Israel, a nation surround by many other despised and hostile nations, sure did put out a lot of weird cheerleading chants.

The above Cubs chants are reworked versions of Psalms 47 and 67, respectively, and any plain reading of those Psalms (provided down at the bottom of this reflection) conveys a clear conviction that the God of Israel is actually the God of the entire world *and* that this same God is going to bless the whole world just as he is blessing the nation of Israel.

Come again? Those are strange words, coming from a people that on ordinary days alternatively either looked down upon other nations as pagan scum or perhaps lamented the fact that those same other nations were routinely beating up on Israel. Given how Israel felt about their neighbors, the question must be asked: How exactly did the average Israelite understand Psalms like these? How did they (and how should we??) understand these paraphrased excerpts from Psalm 47:

Clap your hands, all you nations!...
(Yeah, you nations that God just crushed under our Israelite feet!)...
And by the way... All you nations? You're going to together with us as if we were all one big happy Jewish family!

Wow. My dear schizophrenic Psalmist! Are you still taking your meds? But speaking of meds...

I've lit upon the phrase "double-blind fanaticism" to describe all of this weirdness. In double-blind drug studies, not only are the recipients of the test drug unaware of whether they're getting the drug or a placebo, but also those who hand out the pills. Double-blind. Both the givers and the receivers are in the dark as to the contents of the pill. But the designer of the study is not.

Returning to our Psalms, I submit that, while God certainly knew the full story, both the authors of these Psalms and their intended audience were equally in the dark regarding portions of the Psalms we are discussing. Why would the very nations crushed under Israel's feet be inclined to jump up and joyfully worship alongside their conquerors? I find it hard to believe that anyone back then had a ready explain for how that would happen.

But set aside the question of how for a moment. Why would Israelites want such an outcome? Consider how New Testament Israelites felt about Samaritans and Romans and you've got a decent idea of what normal looked like back in those days. Most Israelites wouldn't even eat a meal with gentiles, let alone welcome their insertion into an expanded family of God.

So when the Psalmist suggests that all nations will gather as one family of Abraham, it's almost like a scene out of movie where a ghost channels words out of a person that the person wouldn't (and wouldn't want to!) ordinarlily say on their own. Israelite listeners would for the most part be perplexed by assertions like that, and I'm guessing the Psalmists who spoke them weren't feeling a whole lot more informed themselves.

Wonderfully, both the How and Why questions are answered in the light of Jesus Christ. Knowing as we do now that Jesus came to save all of humanity, those Psalms make perfect sense, and we see God's fingerprints all over them. A day was indeed coming when all peoples, foreigner and Israelite alike, would gather as one, worshiping the God of Israel.

But at the time? It surely must have been rather confusing stuff. And that returns me to my double-blind reference. In drug trials they do it that way so that nobody's expectations interfere with the outcome. I find myself wondering if it wasn't for similar reasons that God thought it best to keep both his Psalm writers and his people in the dark on a few matters that involved His coming Son.

Psalm 47
1 Clap your hands, all you nations;
    shout to God with cries of joy.
2 For the Lord Most High is awesome,
    the great King over all the earth.
3 He subdued nations under us,
    peoples under our feet.
4 He chose our inheritance for us,
    the pride of Jacob, whom he loved.
5 God has ascended amid shouts of joy,
    the Lord amid the sounding of trumpets.
6 Sing praises to God, sing praises;
    sing praises to our King, sing praises.
7 For God is the King of all the earth;
    sing to him a psalm of praise.
8 God reigns over the nations;
    God is seated on his holy throne.
9 The nobles of the nations assemble
    as the people of the God of Abraham,
for the kings of the earth belong to God;
    he is greatly exalted.


Psalm 67
1 May God be gracious to us and bless us
    and make his face shine on us –
2 so that your ways may be known on earth,
    your salvation among all nations.
3 May the peoples praise you, God;
    may all the peoples praise you.
4 May the nations be glad and sing for joy,
    for you rule the peoples with equity
    and guide the nations of the earth.
5 May the peoples praise you, God;
    may all the peoples praise you.
6 The land yields its harvest;
    God, our God, blesses us.
7 May God bless us still,
    so that all the ends of the earth will fear him.

Don't Leave Heaven Without It

This reflection is the result of a mistake I made yesterday morning. I hit the road to drive to a customer, only to realize a few blocks down the road that I had forgotten my wallet. Oops. So, what did I do? I suppose the wise move would have been to return home and get it, but I didn't. I decided to save myself a few minutes and keep driving.

Well, friends, the good news is this: I never did get pulled over. Furthermore, I'd like to point out, before proceeding, that the last time I caused an accident was some ten years ago, and on that day ice on the road was the main culprit. That having been said, I'm not always the most cautious and law-abiding of drivers, where speed limits are concerned. Like most drivers, I speed "reasonably", however I am on the upper end of reasonable (which is itself a term capable of a wide spread of interpretations).

But without my license? I became a more tame driver. I still broke the posted speed limits, but much more cautiously than I would normally. I made a point to keep with ordinary traffic. I couldn't afford to stand out, and that got me thinking about the fact that I'm a safer driver when I have fewer rights and privileges. As a white, male, native-born American carrying a valid drivers license... yeah, I have privileges. Without the license? Not so much.

It struck me that driving without a license gave me a glimpse into the ordinary day-to-day life of someone less privileged than myself. Be that person Black, Hispanic, an illegal alien, or a wanted fugitive, all of them have reasons to drive as safely as possible, and push no buttons.

In the current politically charged Trump-as-spectacle world, perhaps all of us would do well to know what it's like to find ourselves without passport in a foreign land, at the mercy of a people who owe us nothing but can definitely make life difficult for us if they so choose. It would be a searing experience. Maybe attitude-changing. If you cannot think of a better way to experience this feeling, I highly recommend driving at high speeds without your driver's license as a reasonable proxy.

Yes, the more I reflected upon it, the more I realized how convenient my legal status is and what benefits my passport and driver's license give me. Things I take for granted. I was then reminded of a biblical concept that overlaps with my American citizenship, and that is my citizenship in heaven. I am, in fact, principally a child of a different kingdom. I have rights as an American, and I exercise them often enough. But what rights do I have as a citizen of heaven? And do I exercise them very often?

Hmmmmm.

Hmmmmm!

Our rights as citizens in America give us the courage to stand up to criminals and other wrong-doers. We can take them to court. What's more, because we're citizens, we've got a good shot at justice if anyone tries to accuse us of a fictitious crime. We have good standing with the judicial system. Even when we screw up, we can hope for kinder justice.

So... how does that play out with our heavenly citizenship? Well, friends, no crazy-deep insights here except to say that we have the Power and Authority of heaven behind us, if we want to take on the evil powers and authorities in the spiritual realms of this earth. They can accuse us, but we are in good standing with the King of the Cosmos. And if we so choose, we can intervene and speak with the Authority of Heaven into earthly mishaps. It's called prayer and action.

Well, the rest of what I might say here is probably clear. It's just a good reminder to me that I should do more than remember my wallet in the morning.

I should also remember my heavenly passport. And at all times behave like I have it on my person.

What Is It We're Trying Not To Think About?

There are a great number of things we desperately don't want to think about. That may sound like hyperbole, but since we're usually successful in not thinking about things we don't want to think about, the number of things on that list may be larger than... well... larger than we want to think about.

But let's draw this wandering claim down to earth and tie it to something. Shall we start with the Cultural Revolution? Not being Chinese, this is not a delicate topic for me, however I was inspired to write this reflection as I read this morning about Youqin Wang and her efforts to document the lives of people in China who were killed during those dark years. Here are two chilling quotes from the article:
1) "It's not known exactly how many people died, but estimates range from 500,00 to several million."
2) "...and while a handful of the people who participated in the violence have apologized..."

Let those numbers sit next to each other in your mind. Maybe a million people died. And a handful of people have spoken up to apologize. Welcome to human nature at its nadir, to my mind. Where are the other people responsible for that uncountable carnage? My guess (and I'm comfortable with it) is that they're trying not to think about it too much. Many of them quite successfully, though surely not all.

All well and good since we westerners don't hail from China. But let's make it personal. We'll do so by means of a three-course meal.

First Course: The Appetizer

The full article is here, but here's a snippet worth pondering for two reasons:

It is always hard to draw a line between the wickedness of the times and the evil of individuals, especially in the case of the Cultural Revolution, and when presented with such a grave issue, most people have chosen to keep silent and forget.

[Editorial aside: The author of this blog is nodding vigorously]

On this point, Wang Youqin loves to tell a story she heard from a science teacher. The teacher worked on a farm during the Cultural Revolution, and he was in charge of a herd of cattle. There was a patch of thick grasses below a big willow tree, which was a favorite food of the cattle, and, one day, the villagers slaughtered an old cow under the tree because it was too old to work; ever since then none of the cows would go anywhere near the willow tree even though the grass was delicious. The chickens, however, upon seeing the innards of their fellow hens chucked into the yard, would all hurry over and peck at the guts of their own kind.

“So mankind is somewhere between cows and chickens,” Wang says. “But now that we have a choice, we need to decide whether to be the cow or the chicken.”

Did you see it? I am betting not. Sure, there was heavy food for thought there, regarding humans and human nature... whether mankind will remember or forget what has been done to other humans. What we have done to other humans. And that is indeed the main point. But for those who eat meat regularly, a second heavy thought regarding food should have left us with indigestion: The cows missed their dead. They abhorred the slaughter of their own. Sure, one may pooh-pooh it as a lonely anecdote, but my own father once related to me a very similar story. He once witnessed the killing of a cow by bullet. After the cow hit the ground, all the other cows gathered around and silently encircled their departed fellow cow. And stared at it.

Ummm, I didn't want to think about that while eating my Big Mac. And yet we do. Eat the meat, that is. As for the cows? We try not to think about them too much. More serious consideration might leave us feeling too guilty to enjoy the meat. And that would be a shame.

That just goes to show how many times a day we avoid thinking about any number of things. However the vegetarian digression seems out of place, it being so trivial when compared to the evils of the Cultural Revolution. But that was just the appetizer. The next dish served will not similarly disappoint.

Second Course: A National Disgrace

We Americans have our own "Cultural Revolutions" that have been both ignored and forgotten. Sordid history that we don't think about too often. Or was it never? An example (but let's not forget that there are others!)... Watch this TED talk and tell me if we've honored our treaties with the native Americans who owned America for thousands of years before we Europeans came along. Oooh, have I touched a soft spot? A log we don't want to turn over?

Here's a picture from that TED talk. A picture we oughtn't forget.

That's a map including the land that the Lakota Indians legally own. Never seen it before? If we don't recognize it, then we have successfully forgotten what our forefathers didn't want us to remember. (I am sure there area a lot of grandparents in China hoping their offspring will be equally forgetful.)

Here are some words from that TED talk. Words we oughtn't forget.

"1980: the longest running court case in US history, the Sioux nation vs. The United States, was ruled upon by the US Supreme Court. The court determined that when the Sioux resettled on the reservations and seven million acres of their land were opened up to prospectors and homesteaders, the terms of the second Fort Laramie treaty had been violated. The court stated that the Black Hills were illegally taken..."

The facts, friends, are cold on this matter. It's their land. And we took it. Illegally. Our own Supreme Court said so. But we'll forget the map and the ruling. Just as have our forefathers before us. The Lakota Indians are still waiting for us to remember. But we won't. We're trying not to think about it.

This is tough stuff to stomach, and those wrongs lay heavy on my heart when I drove through that land myself just last summer. But there is at least that wonderful out: It's a national problem, and not one I, as an individual, can remedy on my own. That's very convenient thinking, and it does help things go down more smoothly. But one dish remains to be served.

Third Course: It Gets Personal

Jesus called us to take up our crosses. I know a few people who have really gotten closer to this kind of radical life. But I haven't. Have you? There is an awful lot about my life that does not reflect the radical teachings of Jesus. Do you feel the same? Here's a word: Incarnational. We love to talk it. Jesus didn't stay in heaven. Jesus became nothing. Became like us ants, as one analogy works it. Yada yada yada. But that yada yada is not derisive of Jesus. Yada yada is for me. For us. Because it's so many words. We say it and love it. But most of us, myself included, don't do it. I live in a comfortable suburb outside Chicago. Living incarnationally in the inner city? Yeah. Didn't happen. I'm just very much in favor of it. In theory.

We like to leave big problems as theoretical. National. Nothing I can do. In practice, however, the solution is personal. Individual. Each of us responding as Jesus would. And therein lies the problem, because my life doesn't look nearly enough like the life of Jesus. That's something I'd rather not think about it, and I certainly don't want to reminded of it, either!

But people have this annoying habit of breaking into our protective amnesia. On the national scene, Wang Youqin reminds China of their past. Aaron Huey (of that TED talk) reminds us Americans of our own. Aaron, it is worth noting, incarnationally went and dwelt among the Lakota. Shared in their suffering. In doing so, he proves that theory can become practice, if we're willing to give up our own comforts. That reminder is annoying.

On the personal scene, occasionally a Jesus freak (or a Lakota freak) will challenge us to become more like Jesus (perhaps among Native Americans) and radically enter into the suffering of our world as ambassadors for Christ. Our response as Americans and as Christians is well described by Henri Nouwen, who here encapsulates the distinctive character of secular prophets Wang and Aaron as well as the Christian variety—and then goes on to describe our typical response to such prophets when they cross our paths.

"There are people in our midst who have allowed the pain of the world to enter so deeply into their hearts that it has become their vocation to remind us constantly, mostly against our will, of the sins of this world. There are even a few saints who have become so much a part of the human condition and have identified themselves to such a degree with the misery of their fellow human beings that they refuse happiness for themselves as long as there are suffering people in this world. Although they irritate us and although we would like to dispose of them by labeling them masochists or doomsday prophets, they are indispensable reminders that no lasting healing will ever take place without a solidarity of heart. these few "extremists" or "fanatics" force us to ask ourselves how many games with play with ourselves and how many walls we keep erecting to prevent ourselves from knowing and feeling the burden of human solidarity."
– Henri Nouwen, Reaching Out

When Vices Become Virtues

Last night we broke from our standard digital-free Sunday tradition and watched the Superbowl. Not being big on football, I used to watch it mainly for the commercials, but those days have passed. Now I pass through commercials like a 10-yr old passes through cemeteries on dark and foggy nights. With fear and trepidation.

What will my children see?

Sadly, more than they should have. A commercial overtly built on a theme of sexual bondage S&M–for cell phones, obviously. A woman getting horny with "Mr. Clean"–yeah, the household cleanser just tried to darken my soul. The best that could be said is that Mr. Clean was, apparently, her husband–helping around the house on stain-removal tasks. The tagline, however, must be noted: "Mr. Clean gets dirty."

A few years ago, in one memorable sequence along a highway, I noted three violations of the Ten Commandments in just two miles.
1. Something suggesting loose sex, the details of which are not necessary to recount here.
2. Tagline for some product being flogged: Creating neighbor envy for XX years
3. Tagline for some tough-guys movie being flogged: The Best Don't Rest

Today I flipped open a Dell computer catalog that came in the mail. And here came the motivation to finally just jot this ridiculous stuff down in a blog post.

GETTING LOST ISN'T THE PROBLEM. IT'S THE GOAL.

Wow. If that doesn't just capture how lost our society has gotten. So lost that being lost has become a desirable destination. Why? Because we're so lost, of course. If we weren't so lost, the notion of getting lost wouldn't be so tempting.

But we are lost. And when life gets that bad, escapism starts to look good.

A friend showed my his latest purchase a week or two ago. Oculus. Virtual reality. The game was of the shoot-em-up variety, but I'll be honest because I'm male and any adult with a pulse would know it without my saying it. I knew and I know where this will go. It won't be too long before quite realistic harem experiences will be available. A bit more time and they'll be able to add physical sensations to the visual cornucopia. A new temptation around the corner.

Why not get lost in a harem, after all?

Enough said, but even if we know to avoid virtual harems, the siren call of getting lost is still well-sold. My own smart-phone is a continual distraction to me, and much worse to many others.

For these reasons I was thankful to put down the Dell advertisement and pick up my latest Nouwen purchase: Reaching Out. Truth pours out on the page before me. "When, after a busy day, I am alone and free I have to fight the urge to make one more phone call, one more trip to the mailbox or one more visit to friends who will entertain me for the last few hours of the day. And when I think about the busy day I sometimes wonder if [what I did today] has, in fact, not become one big distraction-once in a while entertaining-but mostly preventing me from facing my lonely self which should be my first source of search and research."

Nouwen wrote that some thirty years ago. What would he have to say about our habits today? I can say this for him: if he checked his mailbox then as often as we checked our digital inboxes today, he'd have had no need for a gym membership.

Dry humor aside, Nouwen would never have made it far in the advertising world. He calls out our disease and hopes for himself and for us that we seek not more of it but rather the cure.

As to what that cure entails, I would suggest that Nouwen's book is a great start for those who care to know. As for me, I have some work distractions beckoning, so I will end this blog simply recognizing that my world has become so lost that the very notion of being found out is a worrying one to it.

PS—that advertisement about getting lost?

Yeah. It's for Dell Alienware computers. If alienation is the goal, it's only fitting that Alienware should get you there. We're an alien nation, indeed.