Critique of Belief

Copied below is an article from the Wall Street Journal that analyzes the nature and attitude of some contemporary atheists. See my comments following . . .

Without God, Gall Is Permitted

By SAM SCHULMAN
Wall Street Journal
January 5, 2007; Page W11

When the very first population of atheists roamed the earth in the Victorian age -- brought to life by Lyell's "Principles of Geology," Darwin's "Origin of Species" and other blows to religious certainty -- it was the personal dimension of atheism that others found distressing. How could an atheist's oath of allegiance to the queen be trusted? It couldn't -- so an atheist was not allowed to take a seat in Parliament. How could an atheist, unconstrained by a fear of eternal punishment, be held accountable to social norms of behavior? Worse than heretical, atheism was not respectable.

In the 21st century, this no longer seems to be the case. Few acquaintances of Dr. Richard Dawkins, the world's most voluble public atheist, wonder, as they might have a hundred years ago: Can I leave my wife unchaperoned in this man's company? Indeed, the atheists are now looking to turn the tables: They want to make belief itself not simply an object of intellectual derision but a cause for personal embarrassment. A new generation of publicists for atheism has emerged to tell Americans in particular that we should be ashamed to retain a majority of religious believers, that in this way we resemble the benighted, primitive peoples of the Middle East, Africa and South America instead of the enlightened citizens of Western Europe.
Thanks in part to the actions of a few jihadists in September 2001, it is believers who stand accused, not freethinkers. Among the prominent atheists who now sermonize to the believers in their midst are Dr. Dawkins, Daniel C. Dennett ("Breaking the Spell") and Sam Harris ("The End of Faith" and, more recently, "Letter to a Christian Nation"). There are others, too, like Steven Weinberg, the Nobel Prize-winning physicist, Brooke Allen (whose "Moral Minority" was a celebration of the skeptical Founders) and a host of commentators appalled by the Intelligent Design movement. The transcript of a recent symposium on the perils of religious thought can be found at a science Web site called edge.org. There are many themes to the atheist lament. A common worry is the political and social effect of religious belief. To a lot of atheists, the fate of civilization and of mankind depends on their ability to cool -- or better, simply to ban -- the fevered fancies of the God-intoxicated among us. Naturally, the atheists focus their peevishness not on Muslim extremists (who advertise their hatred and violent intentions) but on the old-time Christian religion. ("Wisdom dwells with prudence," the Good Book teaches.) They can always haul out the abortion-clinic bomber if they need a boogeyman; and they can always argue as if all faiths are interchangeable: Persuade American Christians to give up their infantile attachment to God and maybe Muslims will too. In any case, they conclude: God is not necessary, God is impossible and God is not permissible if our society -- or even our species -- is to survive.

What is new about the new atheists? It's not their arguments. Spend as much time as you like with a pile of the recent anti-religion books, but you won't encounter a single point you didn't hear in your freshman dormitory. It's their tone that is novel. Belief, in their eyes, is not just misguided but contemptible, the product of provincial minds, the mark of people who need to be told how to think and how to vote -- both of which, the new atheists assure us, they do in lockstep with the pope and Jerry Falwell.
For them, belief in God is beyond childish, it is unsuitable for children. Today's atheists are particularly disgusted by the religious training of young people -- which Dr. Dawkins calls "a form of child abuse." He even floats the idea that the state should intervene to protect children from their parents' religious beliefs.
For the new atheists, believing in God is a form of stupidity, which sets off their own intelligence. They write as if they were the first to discover that biblical miracles are improbable, that Parson Weems was a fabulist, that religion is full of superstition. They write as if great minds had never before wrestled with the big questions of creation, moral law and the contending versions of revealed truth. They argue as if these questions are easily answered by their own blunt materialism. Most of all, they assume that no intelligent, reflective person could ever defend religion rather than dismiss it. The reviewer of Dr. Dawkins's volume in a recent New York Review of Books noted his unwillingness to take theology seriously, a starting point for any considered debate over religion.

The faith that the new atheists describe is a simple-minded parody. It is impossible to see within it what might have preoccupied great artists and thinkers like Homer, Milton, Michelangelo, Newton and Spinoza -- let alone Aquinas, Dr. Johnson, Kierkegaard, Goya, Cardinal Newman, Reinhold Niebuhr or, for that matter, Albert Einstein. But to pass over this deeper faith -- the kind that engaged the great minds of Western history -- is to diminish the loss of faith too. The new atheists are separated from the old by their shallowness.
To read the accounts of the first generation of atheists is profoundly moving. Matthew Arnold wrote of the "eternal note of sadness" sounded when the "Sea of Faith" receded from human life. In one testament after another -- George Eliot, Carlyle, Hardy, Darwin himself -- the Victorians described the sense of grief they felt when religion goes -- and the keen, often pathetic attempts to replace it by love, by art, by good works, by risk-seeking and -- fatally -- by politics.

God did not exist, they concluded, but there was no denying that this supposed truth was accompanied by a painful sense of being cut off from human fellowship as well as divine love. To counter it, religious figures developed a new kind of mission -- like that of the former unbeliever C.S. Lewis: They could speak to the feeling of longing that unbelief engenders because they understood it -- and sympathized not only with atheism's pain but with the many sensible arguments in its favor.

There is no such sympathy among the new apostles of atheism -- to find it, one has to look to believers. Anyone who has actually taught young people and listened to them knows that it is often the students who come from a trained sectarian background -- Catholic, Orthodox Jewish, Muslim, Mormon -- who are best at grasping different systems of belief and unbelief. Such students know, at least, what it feels like to have such a system, and can understand those who have very different ones. The new atheists remind me of other students from more "open-minded" homes -- rigid, indifferent, puzzled by thought and incapable of sympathy. The new atheists fail too often simply for want of charm or skill. Twenty-first century atheism hasn't found its H.G. Wells or its George Bernard Shaw, men who flattered their audiences, excited them and persuaded them by making them feel intelligent. Here is Sam Harris, for instance, addressing those who wonder if destroying human embryos in the process of stem cell research might be morally dicey: "Your qualms...are obscene."

The atheists say that they are addressing believers. Rationalists all, can they believe that believers would be swayed by such contumely and condescension? They seem instead to be preaching to people exactly like themselves -- a remarkably incurious elite.

Mr. Schulman is publishing director of the American, a magazine of ideas for business leaders.

My Comment:

I appreciate the observation that the atheist writers mentioned seem to regard all religious believers as extremists and fanatics. In fairness, I do not want to make the same type of prejudicial mistake in assuming that all atheists are unsympathetic elitists. Nevertheless, Schulman's article is a worthy critique of recent "pop-atheism" books.

The Bizarro Bowl

As long as we are stuck with the ineffective Bowl Championship Series and have no hope of a playoff I say we at least add one more bowl game to the series. This Bowl would go to the teams with big goose eggs on the W side of the column. For instance, this year it would allow Duke (0-12) and Florida International (0-12) to match up.

Think of the wonder of it! Everyone loves the underdog, so why not put two underdogs in the pit. The struggle would be dynamic because after it is over there would be a clear national loser. No more with the endless debates about who has the "losing-est" team.

The toughest part will be finding a corporate sponsor.

Apocalypse Noel

This is the time of year when all parents have an ally in establishing their authority. I speak of course of the mysterious and ancient Northman in his scarlet wizard’s cap who descends upon us flying through the skies from his cold and barren keep in the land of eternal night. He arrives swiftly and unseen; no barrier, no bolt or lock can hinder him in his mission to dispense justice. If you are good, you get rewarded, but if you are bad – you will be given a token of your sins – a chuck of black anthracite of a bundle of dry tree limbs! Beware these symbols for “they do convict ye of your sins!”

Do not doubt it! The ancient texts confirm it. They are ominous and fearful in their apocalyptic warning: “O, you had better watch out! O, you had better not cry! You had better not pout, and I am telling you why! Santa Claus is coming to town. He knows when you are sleeping, he knows when you are awake, he knows when you are bad or good so be good for goodness sake!”

These are the pleading words of the old prophet Gene Autry imploring children to correct their ways before the night time approach of the wizened agent of justice; this annual judge who rains down blessings and curses. The first words of the text describe it: “You had better watch out!”

In March or July warning a child that Santa is watching just does not carry much weight. Yet in December the threat of his arrival can leverage good behavior. I still get chills when I recall my grandmother warning us that if we did not immediately improve our behavior then we could be certain that the long-bearded, red-vested, obese arbiter of vengeance would deliver us a bag of switches and cornbread. (I never quite understood the cornbread part).

The Nativity

Scott Smith from the Southwest Times Record called me last week to get my take on "The Nativity." It's the latest spiritually-themed movie out of Hollywood. I wanted to post his article here but I cannot seem to find it online. If I can get an electronic version of the article and I am allowed to post it I will do so. Otherwise, you'll just have to settle for the printed edition of the SWTR for Dec. 2, 2006.

Random Reflections on Redeeming Halloween

I am weary of the assertion that Halloween is sinful. With each year I grow more impatient with the protest the Halloween is "Hell's Holiday" or the "Devil's Night."

It is naive and inconsistent to single out Halloween as the troublesome holiday. (I respect the Jehovah's Witness in so far as they reject all holidays. They are at least consistent in their protestation). Nearly every major holiday has commendable and lamentable qualities; not only with regard to history but also modern practice. For instance, Halloween is disparaged for having pagan roots. What traditional holidays, other than the national holidays, do not have pagan roots? Christmas is infused with pagan elements borrowed from the feast of Saturnalia. Valentine’s Day is associated with the Lupercalia fertility festival. Even the symbols of Easter originate from various pagan fertility cults. The only real difference is that bunnies and eggs are cuter than skulls and witches, even though they are just as pagan.

Some argue that we can forgive the other holidays of their unfortunate pagan roots because they honor family or participate in the spirit of giving. First, I am not so sure that Christmas and Valentine’s are about giving as much as they are about getting. The modern practice of both has become co-opted by raging consumerism. Second, Halloween may not imbibe of the same degree of family spirit as Christmas and Thanksgiving, but Halloween does have a spirit of community that few holidays enjoy. Halloween traditions still rely on the concept of the neighborhood. On what other day or night can children come to the doors of neighbors without feeling like intruders? Sharing is encouraged. But of course we have to X-Ray the candy and beware of the ever-present danger of the razor blade in the apple, yes? Come on, hasn’t the Internet taught us to be wary of urban legends?

My memories of Halloween are good. My birthday is on Halloween, and perhaps this is why I want to redeem it from the slander. It is a great day for your birthday as a child. You get gifts. You get to dress up as your favorite character and everyone celebrates your birthday. Even the stories I have heard about Halloween’s past entertain me. My father grew up in southern New York and I always loved to hear his tales of the Halloween pranks that he and his buddies contrived. He even remembers hearing how his father and his comrades hoisted the sheriff’s Model T up on the church house on Halloween night. No one was harmed. No one was shot. Maybe there were some messes and inconvenience, but it wasn’t criminal. And in all of those stories I don’t recall any reflection on Samhain, the Druids, warlocks, or . . . . SATAN! Satan is not any more or less active on October 31 than he is on any other day of the year.

Halloween is a traditional event, but it is also just any other day. A day with good and evil and a day waiting to be redeemed . . . just like every day.

Pray for Our Neighbors

Our neighbors are in need of prayer. West-Ark's neighbor is the University of Arkansas Fort Smith. They are right across the street from our church building. They use our parking lot during the week. We have a ministry dedicated to UAFS students, the Lions for Christ. I like to think that we are good neighbors.

Over the weekend, a UAFS student was gunned down at a Halloween party. His name is Terrist Parramore. He came to UA Fort Smith from Fort Worth to play basketball for the university. As of this writing, he is in critical condition in Sparks Hospital. Parramore was shot because he stood up for others. Another man at the party was mistreating women. Parramore asked him to stop. The man returned with a teenaged friend who shot Parramore. You can read the full story here, here or here.

I haven't met Terrist, but I am praying for him. I am praying for his family, his teammates, his coaches, and all of our "neighbors" across the street.

Prayer of Jabez

I remember what I was doing on Sept. 10, 2001. Yes, the tenth - not the eleventh. I was reading a little book that was all the rage on the Christian book charts: The Prayer of Jabez.

I was alone that night. My wife was working at the fitness center daycare that evening and she had the boys with her. I took dinner at the El Chico in the shopping mall. I had just picked up a copy of the book at Hastings. I came home and finished reading the book in my easy chair and reflected on what I had read. For my family, it was a time that we were seriously concerned about finances and feeling unfocused about our future. I have never been a believer in the success gospel, but talk of "expanding territories" and "blessings indeed" were very appealing to me then.

I understand that many people have found the Prayer of Jabez beneficial and have truly been blessed because of the discipline of prayer the book inspired for them. For that reason, I will not knock the the book, but the author of the book admits that the Prayer of Jabez can be misunderstood as a "get-rich-quick" success gospel. I confess that that is where my desires were leading me. I went to sleep meditating on the words of Jabez's prayer and wondering if God was just waiting on me to do "my part" so I could get the rewards.

Of course the next morning I woke up in a different world. A world where wealth and territory did not seem as important. The world of Sept. 10 evaporated. Even though it was only one tower burning at that time, I sensed immediately that America and its values were about to undergo massive change. As I watched the World Trade Center, a symbol of global prosperity, smoke like a burning log I took notice of my wife and my sons and I counted myself blessed indeed.

There was a lot of marketing that surrounded the popularity of the Prayer of Jabez. Among the specialty items sold in conjunction with the book was a prayer coin with the Prayer of Jabez inscribed on it. (It puzzles me how evangelicals will criticize Catholics and Orthodox for their "trinkets and rituals" and then sell their own. Perhaps the difference is all about marketing?) I have one of those coins. I still carry it at times. However, I rarely pray the prayer. I am not opposed to the prayer, it just does not belong to me. It's Jabez's prayer. The coin is my reminder to find my own prayer in my own time and trust in God's answer.

Stop The Insanity

Dear National Media:

Now that we know John Mark Karr did not kill Jon Benet Ramsey, our short attention span has faded. Can we please move on to a new scandalous and tragic story that has no national or world significance?

Sincerely,

The Public

P.S. Please stop showing those creepy photos of Karr. We are having nightmares.

Tropical Storm Chris

They named it after me! Aw, they shouldn't have. Really, they shouldn't have.

There's something creepy about seeing your name given to a destructive force of nature. Of course there have been Tropical Storms and Hurricanes named Chris at least since 1982. According to reports they were all underachievers. Most of the one-line summaries on these cyclones note that they were not significant. The exception would be TS Chris of 1988 which killed four. Even one death isn't insignificant. I hope that TS Chris of 2006 is like the rest of his unambitious family.

Even so, nobody at the National Hurricane Center asked about using my name. I think of all the women named Katrina who now have to live down the dark connotation of this name. I wonder if they grimace or apologize when they announce that their name is Katrina. It could be something to laugh off except that the destruction of Hurricane Katrina and the political fallout that continues today just isn't funny.

This reminds me of my friends whose birthday is September 11. One time in a prayer group a brother shared how he didn't feel like celebrating on his birthday. This was in 2002 and the anniversary of the dark day was as tense as ever. I urged him to redeem the day. Later a friend, a doctor, told me how the terror attacks of 9/11 focused him. September 11 is his birthday and because his birthday was being remembered as a day of unspeakable violence he was devoting his talents to undoing violence. Last I heard he is involved in research to eliminate the threat of bio-terror attacks. That's redeeming the day.

So I have a word of encouragement for every Camille, Carla, Mitch, Andrew, Katrina, and Rita reading my blog: redeem your name. Don't apologize or make an excuse for your name. You are not a storm! You didn't name that cyclone. I am hoping that my cyclone behaves, but if not I guess I need to redeem the "family name."

A postscript to the National Hurricane Center: I do not intend to support theories of emotional stress caused by using actual names, but I will say you have a potential lawsuit on your hands. In a nation that can sue McDonald's for making you fat, I guarantee at some time you will have a class action lawsuit from everyone with a given name if that storm turns out to be a bad one. Besides that, isn't it time to come up with a more creative naming system? Instead of giving storms names from a baby book, why not come up with your own alphabet code like law-enforcement and military/aviation. You are the National Hurricane Center after all. Wouldn't you like to have some cool names like Tango, Bravo, X-Ray, and Foxtrot? If you did you could also use the letters Q, X, Y, and Z and avoid the embarrassing problem of having to use the Greek alphabet.

"How To Win An Argument" By S. Hussein

Debate coaches and experts on rhetoric should be paying close attention to the adroit argumentation of Saddam Hussein during his trial. This clever fellow didn't get to be the dictator of Iraq because of a low I.Q. Follow carefully his piercing logic and witty rejoinders and you will recognize his skill at debate. Here are some helpful tips from Saddam:

1. Make Your Opponents Look Like Idiots: During the trial proceedings on Wednesday, Saddam complained that he was brought to the court room against his will from the hospital. Saddam was in the hospital on a hunger strike. Chief Judge Raouf Abdel-Rahman resorted to common sense and evidence when he disagreed with Saddam. The judge produced a medical report showing that Saddam was in fine health. It's at this juncture in the debate that Saddam shows his skill: he replies, "I didn't say I was ill; I was on a hunger strike." Boo-yah, judge! You were thinking it was all about being healthy enough to meet the responsibility of attending a court proceeding, but Saddam made you look like a fool! You have to pay attention judge! There's nothing worse than interrupting a man's hunger strike.

2. Make Up Meaningless Credentials: If you let the facts get in the way, you might lose your debate. For example, Saddam never served in the military. He is a politician, and he did appoint himself a general when he took control of Iraq in 1979. But these facts did not keep him from appealing to the court to remember that he is a military man. Of course he made that point to ask for the privilege of being executed by a firing squad rather than hung like a common criminal. This is of course Saddam's way of saying, "You've already made your minds up." Bravo, Hussein. Work on their sympathy. Can you feel the tears welling up?

3. Occasionally Refer to Yourself in the Third Person. During his appeal for a firing squad, Saddam said "You have to remember that Saddam is a military man and in this case the verdict should be death by shooting not by hanging," he told the judge. On a different occasion he protested his court-appointed attorney by shouting, "Is he a lawyer for Saddam Hussein or the prosecution?" It lends a certain authoritative madness to your line of reasoning when you talk about yourself as another person. Bob Dole tried to do this during the 1992 election. But he cannot hold a candle to Saddam who takes it one step further by telling the whole court his name. Take notes and observe: When the judge accused Saddam of inciting violence against Iraqis, he replied, "I am inciting the killing of Americans and invaders, not the killing of Iraqis." He could have stopped there, but that would be no better than a schoolyard quarrel of the "Yes, you are/No I'm not" variety. So, Saddam adds some style and flourish by exclaiming, "I am Saddam Hussein! I call on Iraqis to be in harmony and work on evicting the invaders." Now that seals an argument, right? "I am Saddam Hussein." Just try it when you are in an argument with your spouse.

4. Use Colorful Expressions: Judge Abdel-Rahman is so enslaved to common sense that it is easy to see why he cannot hold his own against Hussein. In reply to Saddam's rant that he is aiming his faithful at Americans rather than Iraqis, the judge asks the obvious question: ""Why are they attacking Iraqis in coffee shops and markets? Why don't they go detonate themselves among Americans?" Whoa! That's a tough one. It seems like point and match to the judge, but Saddam shows his skill by retorting with a very carefully crafted and vivid expression. He replied to the judge, "This case is not worth the urine of an Iraqi child." Slamdunk! There's the phrase that will win any contest. Yet, such phrases have to be carefully thought out. A novice might say that this case is not worth the urine of a adult Swede, but it takes an expert like Saddam to know the relative value of urines.

Computer Animated Sin and Redemption

Below is an exerpt from my other blog, The Magic Lantern Show. The film Over The Hedge is a well-made fil that serves as a parable about community. Read on . . .

Sometimes inspiration comes from the strangest of places. Just a few weeks ago I made the decision to join meet my family at the movies. It was a decision, not a whim, because I was in the thick of a seriously overactive schedule and I had to decide that spending 90 minutes of my time at a "kids movie" like Over The Hedge was not unimportant. The 90 minutes would have been important simply because I shared it with my wife and children, but I was additionally blessed by a good movie with an inspiring message.

Over the Hedge is a parable of community. R. J. [the racoon] meets up with a group of friendly forest dwellers made up of a turtle, a skunk, a squirrel, two opossums, and a porcupine family. The odd assortment of beasts live together in utopian harmony as a commune community. They gather just what is needed until R. J. changes that by introducing the forest family to the possibilities of treasures over the hedge. Of course we know that R. J. is exploiting the others to gather what he needs to pay off Vincent. As would be expected, R. J. falls in love with the funny animals and finds community. Which peels off yet another layer of this film: R. J. is revealed as a fraud but he repents by rescuing the others from the evil Verminator. In turn, the forest community rescues R. J. from the clutches of Vincent. How does a community reconcile with a betrayer? How do they restore R. J. to their community when they know he has lied to them?

Am I out of line for saying that this movie was actually better than The DaVinci Code? Sue me for honesty, but I thought that talking animals of Over The Hedge had more depth and sympathy than the bland bunch from DaCode.

News of The Beast

If you have been looking for the big news of 6.6.06, this may just be it . . .

Lioness in Zoo Kills Man Who Invoked God
06 June 2006
KIEV: A man shouting that God would keep him safe was mauled to death by a lioness in a Kiev zoo after he crept into the animal's enclosure, a zoo official said today.
"The man shouted 'God will save me, if he exists', lowered himself by a rope into the enclosure, took his shoes off and went up to the lions," the official said.
"A lioness went straight for him, knocked him down and severed his carotid artery."

Doesn't this story have it all? A beast, the triple-digit hexaphobic number, and the failure of God to save. I fully expect someone to use this as ironclad proof that God does not exist.

Virtual Bard

The Internet. The zenith of humankind's technological achievement at the end of the 20th century. And how, pray tell, has this wondrous marvel of ingenuity benefitted us? As I peer into yon e-mail inbox I see that I can assist the wife of a former Nigerian dictator with a simple bank transaction and as a result earn enough money to end world hunger. I haven't responded to her, but she writes me every day.

Yet, even more astounding than that are the countless offers of cheap medications and stock IPO's. What is even more astounding is that these e-mails are written by robots. Oh yes, pure calculating machines of magnetic bubble logic that churn out random assortments of words and phrases in the thousands by the hour. I am told that these electronic brains do this so as to fool spam filters. Thus the email containing a virus or offer of stolen Viagara slips past the guardian watch of the spam filter in the guise of an actual message. Perhaps most of the random words written by these lit-bots is meaningless filler, but recently a phrase in one of these junk mails from a e-poet struck my eye. Catch your breath as you read the phrase below and behold the evolution of the computer soul! The digital master wrote . . .

I have seen her in the streets, he answered, with a shiver.
Meantime, I put myself on a short allowance of bear's grease.

Pure poetry. Forgive me but I seem to have something in my eye . . .

Screwtape Reads Dan Brown

Some have suggested that I am too hard on Dan Brown and The DaVinci Code. I sort of thought I might be a bit biased myself. Yet, I did not like the book when I read it in 2004. Now that I am reading again I like it even less.

So I went searching for a positive review of the book so I could try and understand why some appreciated it. The most positive review of the book I have found comes from Screwtape. You may remember his best-selling letters that were published by C. S. Lewis in the 1940's. It seems he is still writing and Eric Metaxas has posted a recent letter from Screwtape to his nephew Wormwood on his webpage.

So, in the interest of fairness, I offer a "positive" review of The DaVinci Code.

A Cup of Cold Air

My mother used to say that something mechanical would break whenever my father left town. The clutch on the truck would go bad; the water lines would burst, etc. My father is a fix-it guy and the big fixes would be needed when he was away.

I hope my family hasn't inherited this curse. Just a day before I was to leave for the Sermon Seminar in Michigan, our air conditioner went out. I knew it was coming. The old blower fan was grunting and groaning under the sever demands I placed on it. Still, I had hoped it would last a bit longer. I am an evil taskmaster when it comes to cold air.

I felt like a heel leaving my family in a warm, muggy house whilst I retreated to the cooler climate of Michigan. But they were troopers and vowed that a a few fans would be just fine. I encouraged my boys my telling them that I grew up without air conditioned comfort and that this experience would be good for their constitution.

At worship yesterday, Russ McConnell and Blake Frost heard of my family's plight. They each had a window AC they were willing to loan me. I thanked them, but I regretted that I wouldn't be able to install the window unit as I was leaving for the airport within an hour. No problem! Russ and David Berger came over last night and put in both window units.

I know that having AC is really just a luxury. I know that most of the world does not enjoy this creature comfort. I know that all of us would be fine without it. But what I appreciate is the thoughtfulness and kindness of these good people who took the time to care for my family. It is comforting to know that we have such a loving and caring church family. Jesus said that the one who offers something as simple as a cup of cold water to a disciple will not lose out on the reward. I think that also applies to a cup of cold air.

Thank you Russ, David, and Blake!

Pseudo-Fiction

English doesn't allow double negatives, right? A double negative is actually a positive, yes? So if I "don't never" use double negatives I actually do because I do not never use them.

Remembering this rather logical lesson from grammar has helped me classify the genre of Dan Brown's The DaVinci Code. Currently, no one can agree if DaCode is fiction or non-fiction. Brown claims it is fiction - as do many of the book's naysayers. However, Brown also prefaces the book with a "fact" page that intends to root the fictional adventures of Robert Langdon within a factual setting. So, is DaCode fact or fiction?

I read Dan Brown's claim of fiction as a double negative. The first negative is the "fact" page which has very little basis in fact. The second negative is the claim that Dan Brown intended to write fiction. He has said on an ABC interview that if he had written the book as non-fiction he would have changed none of the details of the conspiracy and historical interpretation. This makes it hard to classify the genre of DaCode, but I propose we create a new genre for DaCode and its ilk: pseudo-fiction. A pseudo-fiction is "false-false." It is false fiction; which means, according to the rule of double negative, it is non-fiction. Note that I did not say it was true or fact. We have no such category when it comes to literature, unless you include reference materials. However, reference materials and non-fiction works are subject to scrutiny.

The point of proposing the "pseudo-fiction" genre is to get around the claim of Brown and others that DaCode is "just fiction." It isn't fair to simply claim that something is fiction when it pretends to be more. Is it really justifiable for anyone to write a slanderous tale about a public figure and then try to claim that it is "just fiction." That defense is offered by children on the playground who apologize for their malicious actions by retorting, "I'm just joking!"

DaCode is not "just fiction." It makes more claims than "just fiction" and so it is subject to the same scrutiny as non-fiction. That shouldn't bother Dan Brown though. As fiction, DaCode is a bore. As pseudo-fiction, the book has generated worthwhile conversation about non-fictional subjects of lasting importance.

No Greater Love

The Memorial Day observances begin early this month. Our nation has designated this week as a time to remember the men and women of our police forces. Today was Police Officer Memorial Day in Fort Smith.

I was honored to be a part of a small but meaningful service at the Fort Smith Police Department today. There have been nine men who died in the line of duty during the history of the FSPD. For the record they are . . .

E. A. "Gus" Anthony, Andy Carr, Samuel Booth, William Bourland, Ralph Howard, Thomas Hairston, Randy Basnett, Ray Tate, and Billy Simms.

I first learned of these men when I was teaching an Ethics in-service for the FSPD. They have a display case in the front lobby that memorializes these officers. Nine souls may not seem like too many in the long history of Fort Smith. The dates of their deaths range from the early 1900's to 1986. Nevertheless, each of them is a man with family and friends. Jesus said that there is no greater love that to lay down one's life for one's friends.

Those officers that I know who are a part of the Fort Smith PD today I consider friends. May God bless them and protect them as they risk their lives out of love and duty.

Dusting Off the Cap and Gown

Two years ago I graduated from Abilene Christian University with my doctorate in ministry. I purchased the required academic regalia for the ceremony. These are by no means the most practical articles of clothing I have ever owned. The hood, for example, is emblazoned with the colors of your school and your field of study. It wraps around your neck and hangs down your back. I cannot fathom how this piece of clothing can be called a hood. Maybe it would serve well as a hood if my head were three feet in diameter. Likewise the cap is not the sort of item I could wear out on the lake or during cold weather. At least our caps as doctoral grads were the eight-sided tams. They have more style than the weird skullcap with a square attached to it. Who would ever design a hat like this. If we didn't immediately associate this cap with graduation I swear that this hat would look like something from the wardrobe of a bad science-fiction movie.

So after I wore the cap, gown, and hood for my graduation two years ago I thought I would never wear them again. Why would I? My answer came about a month ago when I was asked to lead the invocation and benediction for the University of Arkansas Fort Smith graduation. Strangely, I didn't feel out of place in my sci-fi attire because it was the fashion of the day. It was an honor and privilege to serve UA Fort Smith at graduation. West-Ark Church of Christ and UA Fort Smith are becoming good neighbors and that is a blessing for us.

I will don my attire in a few weeks when I serve as the graduation speaker for Webster University. They have just five graduates this year and they all insisted on wearing the funny caps and gowns. I guess there is something about this silly attire that gives one a sense of achievement. I will be happy to honor the graduates of Webster by wearing my regalia also . . . and I also want to get my money's worth from it.

Gratitude for Heretics

When I read The Da Vinci Code about two years ago I did so at the behest of many friends who insisted on it. Being a completist, I read Dan Brown's first book, Angels and Demons, beforehand. I found it to be an interesting thriller, so I anticipated reading The DaVinci Code.

I was disappointed. I found the characters flat and uninteresting. Brown used them as the vehicle for unpacking the big conspiracy story the wove together the Holy Grail, Leonardo DaVinci, and the secret history of Jesus Christ. I could have just read Holy Blood, Holy Grail and been done with it.

Now, almost two years later, I am reading "Da Code" again as grist for a sermon series. Of course this is a direct response to the upcoming movie. Along with Brown's book, I am also reading many of the response books that have been written such The Gospel Code, The DaVinci Hoax, and Breaking the DaVinci Code. Perusing the aisles at Books-a-Million today I was amazed at how many different books have a bone to pick with "Da Code." And it is not just the theology that is being corrected, some books set out to correct the interpretations of the artwork and history. If Dan Brown's goal was really to start a conversation about matters of religion, art, faith, and history then I would say he has succeeded.

Dan Brown's version of the collection of the New Testament books is laughable. That's probably why I did not enjoy reading Da Code the first time - it was just too silly. This week I am studying the process of how the church selected and affirmed the twenty-seven books of the New Testament. Along the way I have read some of the early non-canonical Christian documents such as 1 Clement, the Didache, and Epistle of Barnabas. Likewise I have re-read some of the Nag Hammadi Coptic Gnostic texts like Gospel of Thomas and read some for the first time, such as the Gospel of Phillip.

This has been an intense and beneficial study for me and I hope for our congregation. The early church was pressed to define itself in response to the unusual and potentially harmful notions of heretical groups. Likewise I find myself benefitting by responding to certain avant-garde proposals current today. So, I owe a debt of gratitude to heretics and heterodoxy. You are challenging me to be a better believer.

Refilling the Pen With Invisible Ink

I declare a return to writing. I have been out of the habit too long. I needed the time off to rethink my philosophy of writing. I have never wanted to be a blogger who adds entries about the the great barbecue I had for lunch today. I wanted to write about weightier matters. I am also too critical of my writing and I edit myself into despair. Yet, this blog is a habit; it is a discipline. I need to write even if I am simply describing good barbecue.

Summer is also here and that means it is time to light the Magic Lantern again. This is the year of the DaVinci Code and the time has come to write of many things (my apologies to the Walrus for adapting his quote).

See you at the movies!

Hooray for the Fuzzy Husky

For those of you seeking the link for the Power Point files, it is coming soon. Some urgent business has kept me occupied for the last two weeks. This is the first chance I have had to manage my blogs.

Of course, my first business on-line was to create a Yahoo NCAA Basketball Tournament Pick website. I am pleased to see my friends and family add their picks to "Benjamin's NCAA World." You might also be able to check them out here.

I sat down with my sons last night and let them make their tourney picks for the first time. My eldest child, Wyatt (age 11 soon to be 12), was methodical and mathematical in his choices. He paid attention to the seeds and the records of each team. On a few occasions we even compared the conferences of the teams.

However, my younger son, (Ethan) age 7, was motivated by pure emotion and enthusiasm. I am sure most of us would pick Memphis over ORU, but what you don't know is that a Golden Eagle is a better fighter than a Tiger. And there are plenty of Wildcats in this tourney and Wildcats always rule because our pet cat likes Wildcats and that's what he would pick. Of course if a Wildcat takes on a dragon (i.e. a Blazer) then the dragon wins. Of course the best team is the Huskies. Unfortunately for Washington it isn't their Husky. Rather, it is U Conn's Husky that wins out because it a fuzzy husky. And the fuzzy husky is going all the way to the semi-finals. And I think the fuzzy husky would win the tournament except for the fact that that honor is reserved for the Razorback Hog. And the reasons for that are just obvious.

If Ethan's bracket proves to be the winning choice then mine is completely wrong. Nevertheless I would enjoy it all and say Hooray for the Fuzzy Husky and Woo Pig Sooie!

What Is Truth?

I finally made it to ACU to teach my Lectureship class. I missed out on most of the events at Lectureship. Thankfully, I was able to spend some time with friends.

It was great to spend time with Chess and meet his fiance, Megan (did I get your name right?).

Lectureship is about the only time I get to see the Melikians. They are making me proud with the campus ministry at OU, Sooners for Christ.

I had a great time visiting with John Grant. It was inspiring to talk about a project that seems to be bigger than both of us and is growing still. Could this be how a "movement of the Holy Spirit" occurs?

I enjoyed teaching my class on "What Is Truth?" I have promised the participants and anyone who bought the CD that I would have PowerPoint files featured on this blog. They are coming soon. The Internet is fast but I am slow. Tune in later this weekend and I will have a link here.

Treasure in Clay Jars

Tomorrow begins a new "season" at West-Ark. From tomorrow until the end of April our congregation will be focusing on 2 Corinthians 4. I do not remember another time when I focused so intensely on a single text. I usually preach from an entire gospel, epistle, or book. Although I am sure there will be moments when I will bring other texts into the sermon or study, 2 Corinthians 4 will be the base.

This text presents the image of priceless treasure being kept in ordinary and fragile clay jars. The gospel in this image is the mercy of God. We are privileged that God has the mercy to entrust us with such a noble and joyful ministry. Despite the difficulties we face we have the encouragement of God and we do not lose heart.

I have been encouraged by this image over the past week and more. As a leader in the church it is tempting to think that the congregation one serves must be made perfect - that is flawless, not mature. Church leadership has too often devolved to problem solving or troubleshooting. The conventional wisdom of church growth has been that if we fix it, polish it, and dress it up then "they" will come. Paul is offering a variant concept of church leadership. He authentically gives an account of his flaws, weaknesses, and trials - not in order to be exhibitionist, but because he knows that his message or content is what counts. He is a vessel for something more wonderful. He contains a power and wisdom that comes from God and not from within himself. I find this encouraging.

The Treasures in Clay Jars blog is here.

Musings of a Medieval-Aged Man

I am neither young or old. I guess that is what middle-aged is all about, but I don't like to think of myself as middle-aged because it sounds very mediocre. Middle-aged reminds me of middle ages, or medieval. Thus, I prefer to think of myself as medieval.

Being medieval - that is, neither young or old - I believe I can speak with some authority on why the old and young need each other.

Here is the lesson the old should impart to the young: "Be humble. Live as though you depend on God for everything, for in fact you do."

Here is the lesson the young should impart to the old: "Be hopeful. Live with the confidence and joy that the future is entrusted to God, for in fact it is."

Science Lesson

This newsflash came in today from Space.com . . .

"Astronomers announced today the discovery of what is possibly the smallest planet known outside our solar system orbiting a normal star.

The planet is estimated to be about 5.5 times as massive as Earth and thought to be rocky. It orbits a red dwarf star about 28,000 light-years away."

Here's what I remember from science in high school:

1. If the planet is more massive than earth, then its gravity is also stronger than earth's.

2. Just as humans can jump higher and lift more on the moon with its weaker gravity, an inhabitant of a planet with 5.5x greater gravity would have increased strength on Earth.

3. Superman is from Krypton.

4. Superman is "super" because his home planet is larger than earth.

5. Superman has heat vision and other powers not explained by a gravity differential because of Earth's yellow sun. That's what naturally occurs to one born under a red sun (but you already knew that of course).

6. Greater gravity + red sun = Krypton.

7. The astronomers have discovered Krypton. Superman is among us even now!

Daniel's Epiphany

Today is the Feast of the Epiphany on the Christian calendar. NBC celebrates Epiphany with the premiere of "The Book of Daniel." If you haven't heard about this show yet I assure you that you will. The American Family Association and Focus on the Family are engaged in a boycott and protest of the show. KARK in Little Rock is one of two stations nationally that refuses to air the show.

Why all the controversy? According to the press the show is about about an Episcopal priest who abuses painkillers, has a gay son, a promiscuous straight son, a daughter who deals marijuana, and a wife who drinks too much. Just everyday life right? (Warning: This is sarcasm.) Reading the press releases from media outlets and Christian action groups I wondered if this is supposed to be a comedy or an intense drama. NBC's website features a promotional trailer for the show. After watching that I am convinced that the show is banking on the success of "Desperate Housewives." It fits in the genre of black comedy. Viewers are tantalized with the revelation of scandal which is hidden behind the trappings of a well-to-do neighborhood - in one case Wisteria Lane and in the other the local Episcopal Church.

I am not concerned about the insult of Christianity or the portrayal of Christ as a laid back hipster. Ridicule of our faith and recasting Jesus in our image has gone on for centuries (for a discussion of the latter I recommend Stephen Prothero's American Jesus.) I see no value in Christians losing their tempers or stirring up trouble over a TV show no matter how offensive it may be. (This is television - what do we expect?) In fact, magnifying the controversy only serves to draw attention to a show that may not last very long. When we are criticized and ridiculed we ought to take the opportunity to demonstrate grace. I know that some Christians in this area very politely and very respectfully asked KNWA to reveiw the show and consider carefully if they should air it. I also know that the programming director of KNWA did so.

It is ironic that a show that features the appearance of Christ to a priest begins on Epiphany. The focus of the old season of Epiphany, which is so overlooked, is that Christ has become flesh and dwells among us. The focus is on the manifestation of God in the work and life of Jesus of Nazareth. The church should learn from what Christ did so that it may live out the truth in this world. Rather than get stirred up to protest or complain, let us get stirred up do do good works, act graciously, and open our mouths to tell the stories we know about the living Jesus. The Book of Daniel will not have the final word on what Christ is like if we are in the world living out the Christ-life.

Primetime Pornography

People who pay for pornography are stupid. Not because pornography is a moral lapse of judgment. Not because pornography and the pornography industry objectifies women and treats them as means to male satisfaction. Not because pornography encourages lust, fuels infidelity, and equates love and sex with eroticism. No, they are stupid to pay for porn because porn is now free thanks to Victoria's Secret.

Hugh Hefner and Larry Flynt ought to be livid that Victoria is sharing her secrets for free. Why would anyone purchase an "adult" magazine when the Victoria's Secret catalog is free? And why would anyone purchase an "adult" video when the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show is broadcast for free on CBS?

Excuse the double tangent here, but isn't CBS the network that was chastised seriously by the FCC for the infamous Super Bowl wardrobe malfunction of 2004? If that was a wardrobe malfunction then what is this Fashion Show? A wardrobe dysfunction? I do not understand the moral calculus: 0.57 seconds of Janet Jackson's exposed breast is somehow more offensive and less acceptable than one hour of women in see-through underwear. Well, I never was good at calculus. And for my other tangent, why are magazines and videos that seem to be very immature and adolescent in content labeled "adult?"

I suppose someone might defend the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show by noting that it is about the clothing. Really? Then why are there not more fashion shows by the Burlington Coat Factory featured on primetime television? I don't keep up with the world of fashion but what was the last fashion show televised in primetime on a major network?

I must congratulate CBS for their cleverness. I suppose the FCC would fine them out of existence if they were to broadcast performances of strippers dancing on a pole, but CBS was clever enough to find out that if you get rid of the pole and call it a fashion show then it is no longer X-rated.

I wonder if this show is targeted at women or men. The product is for women, right? And women are generally more interested in fashion, yes? I expect CBS to apply this ambiguous logic to a Chippendale's Dancers Home Improvement show. I am sure the handymen will tune in for that. Hey, let's just call them all family shows and invite the kids to watch.

And that reminds me. . . Why isn't anyone upset that Victoria's Secret and CBS chose to call this a "holiday" themed show rather than a Christmas themed show? Just more of the continuing war against Christmas I guess.

Hey Microsoft, I Was Just Joking

I was just joking about the class action lawsuit in the last entry. I guess someone finally took me seriously!

It was bound to happen. Read the full story here.

Oh Microsoft, How Could You?

There is tragic and disturbing news today. Reports are coming in from frustrated and distraught people that the new XBOX 360 is plagued with glitches. I warn you to read no further if you are easily disturbed by unsettling news. Yet, if you are brave enough to understand the gravity and magnitude of this crisis then I invite you to read on and consider what we can all do to eliminate this potential devastating crisis.

My heart is full of sympathy as I think of all the shoppers and gamers who waited in lines for days to purchase Microsoft's XBOX 360 only to discover that the problems that would prove to ruin their day. I am concerned that these enterprising shoppers may have trampled each other in vain during their mad dash to acquire the long anticipated consoles.

Sad news comes from the discussion forums of a frustrated gamer who put the shooter game Perfect Dark Zero into the new XBOX only to have the flawed machine try to read it as a DVD movie. How could it come to this?

Brian Crecente said his XBOX 360 locked up three times, causing him to lose a couple of hours' worth of progress in a Western-themed action game called Gun. Oh, the humanity!

And what does the Seattle-based corporate stronghold responsible for this crisis have to say to the poor gamers who are losing valuable hours of game progress in their virtual worlds?Microsoft says that it has received only "a few, isolated reports" of machines with problems. That's just the sort of big-business static I would expect to hear from a faceless evil that doesn't understand the fear and outrage that all of us feel.

Isolated reports, huh? Well, I would like for Microsoft to come and personally apologize to poor, unfortunate on-line gamer Kulanose who says that he spent "six and a half hours outside uncontrollably [shivering] for something that doesn't work right . . . they just lost me and a bunch of people I know." Doesn't it just break your heart? Who is going to speak up for the other Kulanose's who fear Bill Gates and his geek army? This will impact these poor souls for the rest of their lives!

I say it is time for the government to act. I know that some will say that the government has more important matters to attend to, but I ask you can we really afford to lose any more hours of progress on Gun and Perfect Dark Zero? Very soon China will surpass us in the all-time high score on Halo 2! We need government intervention to protect those whose trust in Microsoft has just been shattered. I fear that some (*choke*) will never enjoy video entertainment again.

I also think we should seek a class action lawsuit. We should include everyone in that class and not limit it to those who actually bought the XBOX 360. After all, haven't we all experienced just a little pain and suffering as we think of poor gamers shivering uncontrollably because their Quake 4 adventure froze up just as they were about to kill the space aliens?

(*choke*sob*) I'm sorry I just can't write anymore. It is too disturbing. When will somebody do something? Please Oprah, help us!

Hosea

On the surface, being a prophet seems like a privilege. It seems a special gift to hear God’s voice. But consider poor Hosea. The Lord's first words to Hosea were brutal: “Go marry a prostitute, and some of her children will be born to you from other men.” Why isn't the Lord a little more sociable? There's no “welcome to the life of a prophet" speech. There's no small talk to break the ice, not even a simple "hello."

Why would the Lord ask such a thing? Didn’t he read the Bible? People aren’t supposed to marry fornicators and adulterers. Why would the Lord ask someone to do this? God's explanation is that Hosea is supposed to do this so that his life will become a living illustration of God’s relationship with his people. You see, God’s wife has not been very faithful to him.

So Hosea marries Gomer. Here comes the bride wearing a halter top and high heels with seven colors of eye shadow. She is not having trouble with her fake eyelashes, she is making eyes at the groomsmen. The couple have children and Hosea has to wonder if they are his. Two of his children are named "Not Loved" and "Not Mine." Two innocent children stuck with names that are drenched in sin.

If the story is breaking your heart, then you get the point. God’s heart was breaking because his people were unfaithful to him although he was faithful many times over. Without faithfulness we live in a world of heartache and mistrust. Yet with faithfulness the harshest heartache and the deepest mistrust may be healed with forgiveness and hope.

Cheap Kindness

Bonhoeffer is famous for arguing against cheap grace. He says that cheap grace is the sort of grace that is sold in marketplace with the cheapjacks wares. It is grace that demands nothing at all of those who receive it or give it.

As a part of the Life on the Vine sermon series I have been studying kindness and I think it is time that we argue against cheap kindness and call one another to the sturdier, richer kindness that Scripture describes. What follows is a edition of a post I placed on another blog:

It seems to me that we often accept simple politeness for kindness. In our culture we describe a kind person as someone nice. Being kind is about being nice to someone else. Kindness rooted in the nature of God shows that there is more to kindness than being nice. Taking off on the "Life on the Vine" agricultural metaphor, kindness must be some sort of ground cover vine or grass. It is the raw material that makes up the social fiber. Kindness is at the root of hospitality. I think most of us understand how the concept of hospitality has become reduced in our culture. In ancient times hospitality was more than just being nice. It was required by the gods. Those who did not show proper hospitality were as bad as horse thieves. To deny hospitality was to violate basic covenants of human co-existence. When you think about it, especially in the ancient context, it makes sense.

Self-sufficiency is the alternative to kindness. Take self-sufficiency to its extreme and you have a sort of Mad Max Thunderdome world. I saw glimpses of this world on the streets of London where beggars stole from beggars. Thunderdome is fiction, but the Superdome isn't. One of our newest members at West-Ark was in the Superdome during Katrina. I asked him if it was mob rule and he corrected me. A life-long resident of New Orleans, he told me that gangs are absent in New Orleans, it is instead a city of "every man for himself." There was no kindness among those who attempted to be extremely self-sufficient.

Thinking of kindness and New Orleans, I cannot avoid thinking of Blanche DuBois in A Streetcar Named Desire. So often her famous line ("I have always depended on the kindness of strangers") is ripped from its context and used to compliment nice people. The truth is that Blanche is adrift in the world looking for another to show her genuine kindness. Like so many she enters into relationships that are more contractual than covenantal. She gives herself to strange men so that she can get what she needs to survive. The kindness of strangers that Blanche experiences is cheap kindness.

Against the cheap kindness that litters our culture is the kindness of God. David demonstrated this sort of kindness when he showed his devotion to Johnathan's son, Mephibosheth. (2 Sam. 9). When kindness is mentioned in Scripture it is more often equated with love, mercy, goodness rather than simple politeness. I choose to believe that this sort of loving kindness could come to fruition among us.

Quatloos!

Chad's reply to the last post reminds me of one of the better attempts to do something about those incessant scam letters.

I recommend the Brad Christensen Exhibit at the Quatloos! website. Perhaps more of us should respond with wit and humor to these desperate con artists the way Brad does. Then again, the scammers have nothing but time on their hands and the rest of us are living our lives.

For the sake of trivia, anyone remember where the term Quatloos! comes from? No peeking at the website!

Junk Mail Blocking the Door

Returning to the Written Without Ink office is a bit scary. The room smells sort of musty and there are cobwebs in the corner. I need to open a window and let some fresh air in.

The door was a bit sticky when I tried to open it. I thought it was just the weather warping the wood but it seems that there's a pile of junk mail comments blocking the way. Looks like a few folks dropped some comments through the slot after I evacuated the WWOI office due to Hurricane Katrina. Let's see now, what do we have here . . .?

Jessica finds my blog informative. Well, of course it is. Where else can you find an article about Jesus' Kung-Fu style. But I must say that this pales compared to Jessica's very interesting website about buying a Citizen Watch with interest free credit. I know you are dying to go check it out. Go ahead, but come back here because we have more mail to go through.

Welcome back. Hey, what do you know . . . Will McDonald says that my blog shows up on a Google of the words "blog debonair." I want to be modest but I must admit that I do strive to have the most debonair blog on the net.

Senson invites me to create my own blog. Real swift there Senson, I have my own blog - and you're posting a comment on it! Wake up!

Will McDonald writes again and says my blog is awesome. Sure it is, especially since it hasn't been updated in two months.

Oh look, here's a message from Me!!!!!! Me!!!!! says, "Search this thing - it is hilarious how people cant even spell right when they are selling something on eBayMisspelledauctions.com" Yeah - haha - some people are so stupid! Just like the idiots who leave the apostrophe out of can't. By the way, your link doesn't work.

And speaking of Hurrican Katrina, TheDevilIsInTheDetails says, "Be prepared for the next huricaine katrina picture or find another one that's similar. As the Boy Scouts say: "Be Prepared"!

Whoa! I had better get hurricane picture insurance right away. I would hate to be caught off guard by a picture of a hurricane. The only thing worse is finding one that is similar! (That's funny, I didn't know the devil was a Boy Scout.)

Well then, why don't you folks watch the office here at Written Without Ink while I go call the GEICO agent to get that picture insurance. I will be back soon and I would love to hear from you; especially if you are posting a bona fide comment and not just flattery laden ads for other websites. (Yeah, that's right! I can see through you hucksters!)

Hurricane Katrina Hits Fort Smith

I am very tired, but I do not think I can go to sleep without some writing. I have spent most of Labor Day weekend doing what I can to support the relocation of evacuees to and from Fort Chaffee. I have been writing some every day. It is my means of decompression. I will be posting my log entries once I sort through them.

The stories from Hurricane Katrina continue even though the latest news seems to be that all the people have been moved from Chaffee and no one else will be brought in. I will tell my stories here and the stories of those I have met over the last few days. I am very proud of my brothers and sisters who accompanied me on the trips to Chaffee. Their Christ-like spirit was obvious.

A friend asked me recently if the winds of Hurricane Katrina reached as far as Arkansas. I must tell him that the winds may not have, but the aftermath did.

E-Salesman With A Foot in My Door

So, I log in to see who left a comment to my last post "St. Elvis." What a surprise! It is my old friend lewissmith6536. Ah the great time I had with old lewissmith6536. (I call him 6536 for short.)

I remember the time that 6536 and I would call up the local store to ask them if they had Prince Albert in a can. 6536 could barely get through the punchline - "You had better let him out before he suffocates!" - without snickering.

Having lunch with 6536 was always a blast. I always knew how to time my jokes just right so that he would laugh while he was drinking his milk. . .

"Hey 65, why did the monkey fall out of the tree?"

He glances my way as he is drinking his milk. Wait for it! Now just as the milk is past the uvula and just in front of the epiglottis . . . .

"Because it was dead!" Oh, the wonderful Vitamin D-enriched blast of milkiness! And out the nose - how it burns!

Yes, we always thought 6536 would go far. The 6536 name was well respected in our community. His father owned the local auto dealership. He would have this huge sale once a year and mark all cars down to $6,536.00 for one weekend. He was well-known for his cheesy antics on those dreadful commercials. Mr. 6536 would be riding a bull or a camel or some other bizarre animal. Beside him was a blonde sweetheart holding a placard with "6536" on it. (It was rumored that she and Mr. 6536 were having an affair, but it was never proven.) At the end of the commercial, Mr. 6536 would shout out, "Come on down to 6536 Auto Sales. And tell them Bob 6536 sent you! That's a name you can take to the bank - or take out of it!"

I really think that my old chum 6536 felt a bit intimidated by his father's local celebrity and salesmanship. He tried his hand at car sales but failed miserably. I heard that he and his father had a sort of falling out. (Some say it was because 6536 and the blonde sweetheart started going out. But that's never been proven.)

I had not heard from lewissmith6536 in years and now along comes his heart-warming comment to my St. Elvis post. I see that he is back in sales. Sadly, I see he hasn't learned anything either. He is reduced to posting unreasonably long ads on my humble little blog.

What are you thinking 65? Do you think any of my readers are really interested in fifteen cent stocks or the future of biometric identity chips. Zzzzzzzzzz! Sorry old friend, that is the sound of all of us falling asleep to your miserable diatribe. And did you really think any of us are interested in that Section 17(b) nonsense? No, don't tell me that you are required to put that mumbo-jumbo in the post because of the STC. You were always a geek for such rules. Did you ever wonder why you could not sell cars like your father? Here is the painful truth old pal: he understood that the public was more interested in corny tag lines, camels, and blonde beauties. Customers were always looking for the door when you started waxing eloquent about the compression ratios and foot-pounds of torque of each model. Do you see why you were the one we dared to eat crayons in third grade?

Thank you lewissmith6536 for what is a rather bittersweet comment. On the one hand it is so good to hear from you and recall the old days; but on the other hand I am sorrowful that you have been reduced to a lonely e-salesman desperate enough to stick your foot in the door.

St. Elvis

Yesterday was the anniversary of Elvis' death. I was almost ten when he died and I remember it. I remember it because my mother was a fan. When Elvis died in 1977 my mother was barely past thirty. Elvis was only 42. These numbers seem quite small to me now as I am stuck somewhere between them.

My mother was a fan, but I don't recall her weeping or sobbing refusing to be consoled over the news that the King was dead. I don't think she ever had the urge to go to Graceland or light a candle in his memory. I just remember her going about her daily duties that summer day - probably snapping beans, washing dishes, or working out in the garden with my grandmother. I do recall the TV being on and the commentary on Elvis' death. Mom had her own commentary. She thought it a shame that a talented man got hooked on drugs. She remarked that he had needed someone in his life to set him straight. And that was it.

In the pantheon of celebrity gods Elvis is one of the saints. Graceland is a shrine. I have no idea how a celebrity gets canonized into the sainthood. It would seem to have something to do with how many fans mourn and how much merchandise they buy after your death. If one really wants to learn how a celebrity joins the sainthood keep an eye on the rise of Dale Earnhardt. I noticed a T-shirt yesterday that depicted a scene of St. Dale watching over NASCAR from heaven surrounded by his mystical number "3."

My mother was a fan, but she wasn't fanatical. She simply lamented the loss. People like her are lousy customers for the sainthood market.

True Believer

I am not convinced that there are no super-heroes. I have seen them. Just the other day I was mowing the lawn when suddenly from out of nowhere I saw a dash of color blaze across my front yard.

"Look, out on the yard! It's a squirrel! It's a cat! No, it's . . . ." Lightning Man? The Black Bolt? I really didn't recognize which super-hero it was. I have quite a few in my neighborhood. He was wearing a black cape with a purple tunic. A golden lightning bolt was emblazon on his chest. Unlike many super-heroes, he wasn't very tall, in fact he may have been just a kid, but there have been many young super-heroes in the history of heroics.

When I glanced up to see where our young hero had gone I couldn't find him. Just then he peered from behind the tree and placed a finger on his mouth urging me to be quiet. No doubt he was stalking alien wizards from another galaxy. Or perhaps he was protecting us all from the nefarious schemes of General Mayhem. Then again he may have been dodging some nosy girl-reporter trying to discover his secret identity.

In reply to his "carry on good citizen" glance, I gave him my nod of assurance that I would carry on with my mowing and that I felt much better knowing that our fair city was under his protection. Then off he dashed in a blur of motion.

Tonight when my youngest son is concerned about werewolves attacking the house or the invasion of toads from Mars, I will reassure him with the knowledge that our neighborhood is under the protection of a small but brave super-hero. I will tell him that I saw this super-hero while I was mowing the grass. And then I will ask him if he has ever seen this hero.

A Series of Fortunate Events

I had the surprise of seeing old friends last night. We met in the middle of I-540 about 300 feet above the ground. No, this wasn't an out of body experience nor was I under the influence of illegal substances. The story goes something like this . . .

Karen and I were on our way to Brentwood to collect our children at my parents' home. Typically we take Interstate 540 to get there and this evening was no exception. I-540 was built within the last ten years and takes advantage of the best technologies in highway construction. Rather than follow the curves and contours of the rolling mountains like Highway 71, which is I-540's scenic counterpart and once the only major route to Northwest Arkansas, I-540 shoots straight across deep valleys and bores through the sides of mountains. Highway 71 attempts to become one with nature, but I-540 lives by the adage that the shortest and fastest distance between two points is a straight line.

We were barreling along on I-540 and were crossing the high bridge over the railroad track just before the Bobby Hopper tunnel. Five or six cars ahead of me I could see something massive obstructing both lanes of traffic. We came to a quick stop. Soon traffic was backing up behind us and we were frozen with other trucks and cars in the middle of the bridge. There are no exits that high up and the shoulder is quite narrow. There was no getting around this accident.

After a few minutes the curious nature of the obstruction aroused my curiosity. What was the massive construct stretched across the highway? Did I see a boat in all that mess? I noticed that no emergency vehicles had arrived so in addition to curiosity I was motivated by a concern to give whatever aid I could. I suppressed my concern over what tragedy might lie ahead. I started on my "spacewalk" outside the safety of the mothership and emerged between the two Wal-Mart trucks blocking my view. Ahead of me was a camping trailer on its side effectively blocking both lanes. On one end was a blue truck still attached to the towing equipment. On the other end was a boat trailer attached to the camping trailer but hung up on the concrete barrier that kept it from plummeting down on the Mountainburg field below. Lying alongside the trailer was a keen looking fishing boat that had somehow jumped off its trailer in a vain attempt to escape the accident.

After my initial survey from a distance I met another adventurer returning from the barricade. "Is everyone alright?" I asked.

"Yes, they're all perfectly okay," he replied with a slight hint of amazement in his voice.

Satisfied that there was no human tragedy, I returned to my van. The minutes ticked by and my boredom mounted. The parade of emergency vehicles followed by a news truck stirred my blood but I resisted the urge to be a rubbernecker. Then my intellectual curiosity and scientific inquiry overcame me - "How exactly will they move that colossus?" I thought. I took a breath and launched back out into space.

Closer now I ventured. Closer still. I was upon the small crowd of civilians huddled near the concrete barrier of the bridge. In the rainbow colored lights of the emergency vehicles I watched the skilled engineering maneuver being used to disconnect the truck from the towing bar on the trailer. They were smacking it with an axe.

Just then I noticed a woman speaking on her cell phone. Beside her was a man holding the hand of a small child; he was speaking to a state trooper. I overheard the city police officer tell the trooper that this couple were the owners of the truck/trailer/boat assemblage. The woman finished her phone conversation. We looked at each other with recognition.

"I know you!" she said.

"And I know you!" I replied as I introduced myself.

I knew who they were even as she told me that she was Holly and he was Alex, a couple I knew when I lived in Russellville. This was no time to catch up on old times but to assess the present situation. Did they need anything? Were they okay? No to the first and yes to the second. Good answers! As we looked at the black and gray markings on the stark white concrete barrier, Holly gave thanks to God that their truck did not go over the edge. She told me how she was praying through it all. I could tell that she had been through a terrifying few seconds when the various components of their freight train decided to go their own ways. It was obvious that she was thankful and felt fortunate to be alive with her family. She and Alex were smiling with relief. Finally, she asked me to apologize to everyone stranded behind them.

I returned to the van just as the tow truck was headed down the shoulder of the highway. Alex and Holly shuffled off to speak to the state trooper. I realized that they had quite a story to tell. Quite a testimony to give. I hope they do not mind if I tell my part of it.
"

The Morning Show

My first task of the day was to visit the set of the KFSM Morning Show. Saturday is Community Outreach Day and we are publicizing the event.

I enjoy visiting television studios because they deconstruct the reality of television. That is necessary treatment for one such as myself born under the sign of the test pattern. As the Talking Heads sing, "I was born in a house with the television always on." Indeed, in a time when reality television is considered more than reality it is good to go behind the scenes and remember that TV is magnificently unreal.

I notice all of the subtle imperfections that are not visible on the broadcast - the green screen, the rigging in the rafters, the window facade, the placement of the newsdesk and the weather center ("Hey they aren't even looking at each other when they engage in witty banter!") I delight in the backstage view.

I enjoyed my visit to KFSM. They really did a wonderful job helping us to get the word out about Community Outreach Day. I think that Bobbie Miller, Brad Flickinger, their producers and crew are top-notch. I have a certain nostalgic nook in my heart for KFSM. I remember watching the news, weather, and the Santa Show on this old station. I always wanted to be on the Santa Show. That never worked out, but at least I made it on the Morning Show and I got a coffee mug to boot.

The Good Old Days of Criminal Adventure Part 2

Now that I have let the irony and sarcasm of my previous post sit on the site for a while, I thought I would follow up with a less satirical voice. I did intend to make a point with my previous post, so here is the meaning of the parable. . .

First, I want to be clear that I am not slamming Sen. Clinton or any of the other senators that are calling for an investigation. I think it is important for people in positions of leadership to raise questions that are in the interest of our children.

Second, I can accept Rockstar Games' claim that the sexual content in the game is the result of unauthorized modifications and isn't part of their original game design.

Which brings me to my main point, the original content of the game is enough to warrant some sort of protest from the public, especially as these games are often popular among children. (I know they are not the intended audience, but that's who usually winds up buying them and playing them.) According to the official site for Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas, the premise of the game is as follows:

Five years ago Carl Johnson escaped from the pressures of life in Los Santos, San Andreas... a city tearing itself apart with gang trouble, drugs and corruption. Where filmstars and millionaires do their best to avoid the dealers and gangbangers.
Now, it's the early 90s. Carl's got to go home. His mother has been murdered, his family has fallen apart and his childhood friends are all heading towards disaster.
On his return to the neighborhood, a couple of corrupt cops frame him for homicide. CJ is forced on a journey that takes him across the entire state of San Andreas, to save his family and to take control of the streets.

For those of you hoping that the game will satisfy your nostalgic urge to revist the early 90's beware. The game is rated M for mature. (Breaking News: Not anymore!) Trying to download a clip from the game at the official website prompts a warning that asks for the age of the viewer. At least the producers of the game recognize that children shouldn't be watching the trailer for the game. (Why they don't assume a 13-year-old would lie about his age escapes me). After watching the trailer I see why they issue a warning. The soundtrack contains profanity, the sreenshots show drug deals in action, shoot-outs, and gangsters executing a drive-by shooting from a motorbike. And that's just the original content.

I wish the Senators well in their efforts to raise public awareness. I hope that Rockstar Games will do even more to convince the public that their game is really for adults and not just limited to being purchased by adults. All of this highlights the fact that responsibility ultimately devolves to people like me - that is, parents and guardians. Pay attention to your children. Help them make choices. Get involved and do not rely solely on the ESRB rating system. Step up and be the parent. And let's all help each other along the way.

[Addendum: I wrote this as part of the previous post but decided to hold off on publishing it. For an explanation as to why, go back and read the third comment on the previous post. It is my reply to Anonymous.]

[Addendum 2: As I write this, it would seem that some good has come from the public debate. Grand Theft Auto will now be rated Adults Only. Also, the company that manufactures the game admits that they are actually responsible for the pornographic content. And to think I was willing to accept that it was the work of drive-by "modders." Why did you lie to me Rockstar Games? Why?!]

The Good Old Days of Criminal Adventure

This news just out from Reuters: "U.S. Sen. Hillary Clinton pressed on July 13, 2005 for a government investigation into how simulated sex cropped up in a modified version of the blockbuster criminal adventure video game 'Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas.'"

What is the world coming to when our children cannot play their criminal adventure video games without pornographic content? I remember when boosting a sweet ride and capping pigs with a Mac 10 was more wholesome. Now someone has gone and made something nasty of what used to be nothing but old fashioned fun with one's homies. You kids should really keep your digitized clothes on when you are clocking 120 m.p.h. on the simulated streets of San Andreas in a stolen Mercedes. What's the world coming to these days!

Haste Ye Back

Eighteen years ago I made a momentous trip to Scotland. The before, during, and after phases of this trip have shaped my identity and my faith. The details of these phases would take more room than I have in this single post. These are, as I have said before, stories for another time.

In Scotland they have an expression similar to the Arko-Texan phrase "Ya'll come back now." They say "Haste ye back!" I did haste back in 1991 with my new bride, Karen. Now Scotland, and especially the families of the East Kilbride Church of Christ, have a special place in our hearts.

Yesterday, one of my friends and brothers from East Kilbride, Kerr Thomson, arrived at our house. He is visiting America with his new bride, Susan. The visit with Kerr and Susan rekindled memories of significant moments in my life. We shared stories of the past and news of the moment. I am saddened to hear that the last few months have not been pleasant for the church in East Kilbride. I ask you to pray for these people. They are my family on so many levels. It is always a tragedy when the body of Christ is torn and wounded by conflict. I hurt for them because they are the church and the pain is doubled because I know most of them very well.

If the Lord wills, I want to haste back to Scotland. I would love to be there on June 24, 2014 for the 700th anniversary of Bannockburn. The Battle of Bannockburn is the only conflict in Scotland I care to commemorate. My fondest hope is that when I do haste back I will find the bride of Christ in East Kilbride happy, healthy, and new.

Look At Me

The movie theatres need to consider a better method for determining what previews are shown with which films. I took my six-year-old son to see the Fantastic Four today and just before the film begins we are blasted with a trailer for The Transporter 2. Sure, I know that Fantastic Four is rated PG-13, but there's something different about the comic-book style fighting of an orange rocky giant throwing an automobile at an electricity-wielding metal-hided villian compared to the violence depicted on the trailer for Transporter 2. Call me inconsistent, but when I made the decision to allow my son to watch the Fantastic Four I did not bargain that he would have to sit through a scene of a woman dressed like a Victoria's Secret model firing semi-automatic machine guns in an emergency room. When I checked the family reviews for Fantastic Four there were no warnings about watching the Transporter himself use super-quick martial arts moves to break the necks of assorted hoodlums.

So, I am faced with a crisis and I have little time to act. I covered my son's eyes during the intense moments in Revenge of the Sith but my simple method of censorship didn't seem to work, so this time I followed my instinct and said to my son, "Look at me! Keep your eyes on me." He did. He kept his eyes on me the whole time and I kept my eyes on him until the trailer was over.

The symbolism of my parental instruction has stuck with me all afternoon. "Keep your eyes on me, son." Instead of just distracting him from what he shouldn't see, I suppose I need to give him something worthwhile to watch. Not on TV or the movie screen, but in my life of course. Isn't that what being a father is all about?

Putting the Hurt on Evil

During my research for the sermon on Mark 3, I discovered this image from the Getty Museum. It comes from the page of a 13th century manuscript. The scene is obviously inspired by Revelation as it depicts unclean spirits issuing from the mouths of the dragon, the beast, and the false prophet.

What is Christ doing in the illustration? It has been a few years since I studied art history. I had almost enough hours in art history to minor in the subject. I know that certain poses and gestures are artistic conventions that are visual shorthand for theological concepts. For example, when Jesus is shown in some paintings holding up two fingers he isn't giving the sign for peace; rather he is flashing the sign that says that he is one with the Father.

Well and good, but what is this odd gesture above? If any of you out there know perhaps you might illumine me. In the meanwhile I will share my theory with you: I think Jesus is taking up his "wax on" kung fu stance and he is about to put some ginormous theological hurt on evil. Hey I like that! You will have to have some serious art history credentials to convince me I am wrong.

Tablets of Stone, Tablets of the Heart

"I will give them an undivided heart and put a new spirit in them; I will remove from them their heart of stone and give them a heart of flesh." - Ezekiel 11:19

On Monday the Supreme Court made its wonderfully circumstantial and ambiguous ruling on the display of the Ten Commandments. What I am able to decipher from the arcane documents with their unusually wide margins is that the court ruled the display of the Ten Commandments is not an endorsement of religion if the display is historical. Yet, if the display is a statement of faith then state religion is being endorsed. It will be interesting to see how this is interpreted in the future as opponents argue "historical" versus "not historical." Much will likely depend on how large a chunk of granite the Ten Commandments have been carved into.

I am less interested in the display of the Ten Commandments and more interested in its application. Regardless of whether they made proper notation and citation, the Supreme Court applied the Ten Commandments during this session. In the case of MGM vs. Grokster, (I know, it sounds like a Godzilla movie) the court said that the providers of software that would infringe copyrights of copyrighted material were still responsible for the infringement. In other words, "thou shalt not steal." How many other supreme court decisions can be reduced to one of the Ten Commandments? How many decisions assume the simple truth and logic of the Ten Commandments? Whether it is considered historical or religious, the spirit of the Commandments is in use.

On the same day in another court, Dennis Rader confessed to ten counts of first degree murder. Rader is better known as the BTK Killer. Rader regards the victims of his crimes as projects. He bound, tortured, and killed them to fulfill his sexual urges. Rader broke nearly all the Ten Commandments, yet one cannot say that Rader was unfamiliar with the commandments. At one time in his life Rader was president of his church council. He was a boy scout leader. He was a code enforcement officer, so he knows something about rules that are written in stone. Certainly Rader must have been exposed to a display of the Ten Commandments at some point. It is regrettable for all of us, especially his victims and their families, that the commandments were never written on his heart.

"You show that you are a letter from Christ, the result of our ministry, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts." - 2 Cor. 3:3

Hearing the Message in the Song

Who says that children don't pay attention in worship? On the Sunday before last we were worshipping with Karen's parents at their home congregation. Our youngest son was a bit more fidgetty than usual. He is sort of traditional and prefers a church house with pews rather than new-fangled chairs. I felt bad for the worship leader and the preacher because all their hard work was lost on my six-year-old son. He is just too set in his ways. Yet I was amazed when he perked up during one song. The message reached him and he responded with all his heart. The song was the old spiritual "Get Right Church" and as we sang the line "Get right church and let's go home" my son turns to his mother and says "Yes, let's go home!"

The Battle of Bannockburn

It was 691 years ago from today that nearly 5,000 Scots from all walks of life and all social classes were camped out on a hill near a river in central Scotland. Advancing on their position was the English military numbering over 20,000. Included in their force were longbow archers and armored cavalry knights. Most of the Scots were fortunate to have a garden tool for a weapon. What should have been a massacre and simple victory for the English on the field of Bannockburn became the decisive moment in Scotland's battle for independence in the 14th century.

The Battle of Bannockburn and the triumph of the Scots over a force that outnumbered them four to one reminds me of the significance of unity. Scotland had allowed the English to subdue them because they were at odds with one another. They were a house divided and they could not stand. William Wallace and King Robert the Bruce united the Scots, which enabled them to win a battle that by all rights they should have lost.

Six years after the victory at Bannockburn, the Scots declared their independence in a letter to the Pope known as the Declaration of Arbroath. They affirmed their unity and the purpose of their fight in the most famous line from the declaration: It is in truth not for glory, nor riches, nor honours that we are fighting, but for freedom - for that alone, which no honest man gives up but with life itself.

Homeward Bound

For many years now I have clutched on to a belief that a place really feels like home only when you leave it for a time and return to it. I do not fully understand this sensation. My guess is that when "home" becomes your destination you feel "at home" when you arrive. After all the effort to vacate our house so that we could go on vacation, we finally reversed our energy by packing up, loading the van, driving for hours and passing slow-moving traffic just to get home.

I am sure there is some rich, theological significance to this effort to feel at home. Yet, I am tired and just happy to be home right now. I leave you with the following scripture and ask, as I often do, what do you think?

"For here we do not have an enduring city, but we are looking for the city that is to come." - Hebrews 13:14.

Pod Racing on Lake Hamilton

Our family is enjoying vacation this week. Yesterday, we went out to Lake Hamilton to cruise around on a party barge. I still wince when I think about calling this pontoon boat a party barge. A party barge connotes scantily clad co-eds, drunken rednecks, and the inevitable visit from the lake patrol to turn down the music. It makes me grin when I think that my wonderfully mild-mannered in-laws own a party barge.

Of course with the addition of my family and my sister's family, which means bringing aboard a quintet of children under the age of eleven, the party atmosphere manifests. It is not the "party barge" party atmosphere, rather a "Chuck E. Cheese on the lake" sort of party. Again, the nomenclature "party barge" does not fit and I think it better to rename the vessel a play barge or a fun barge. Perhaps I should just settle for calling it a boat.

The children have no problem naming the grand ship. In fact they recreate it in their imaginations many times over. I noticed this when we were towing the giant racing-striped intertube behind us. My oldest son was the first to ride and I was impressed by how excited he was. Having been towed around in an intertube myself I am mystified by the attraction. You bounce around getting water splashed in your face and breathe in gas fumes. Why is this fun? Maintaining a parental watch on my son as he bobbed around on the waves at 12 m.p.h., I noticed that he was moving his hands back and forth on the intertube handles as if he were driving a tank. Every so often he would glance behind him. Putting it all together, I realized that he was podracing. Podracing is the sport featured on Star Wars: Episode I. The podracers are driven by funny aliens and a podracer looks like . . . well it looks a little intertube being towed by a huge pontoon boat.

I sat in the back of the party barge and watched as my son won the podrace on Lake Hamilton. I was amazed to think that a whole world was being imagined out there in that inflatable pod skimming across the water. I remembered the adventures that I created in my own youthful mind when I would swing off a rope swing at the river or paddle across the pond in a leaky boat. These material forms became whatever I wanted them to be. I could name them as I chose. Today when we head out to the lake once again, I will pass up the ride on the party barge. I have an invitation to go cruising on Gasgano's Super-Fueled Podracer.

Speaking of Faith

During the past decade, there has been an explosion of films and television programs containing religious and spiritual themes. Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ was only the tip of the iceberg. As new generations of Americans work out their spiritual and religious questions, they are increasingly turning to fantasy.

These are the opening words of an issue of Krista Tippett's radio program "Speaking of Faith." I recommend the program to anyone who enjoys reflecting on matters of spirituality and faith. Obviously some topics will be more appealing than others. I receive the broadcast from the Internet. The advantage with the streaming audio broadcast is the additional information found on the website. You can investigate it for yourself at this here.

The show I mentioned above reminds me why I started the Magic Lantern Show. The imagination is a neglected dimension of faith and spirituality in Western culture. We tend to regard it as untrue. Hence, our inability to understand Revelation. Every printing of the Bible should come with a heading before Revelation emblazened with the legend "WARNING: Keep Out of Reach of Engineers." (My apologies to those of you who are engineers. Many of my best friends are engineers.)

Forgive the pitiful humor, but we have favored reason to the point that our ability to discern truth through imagination has atrophied. Reason certainly is important, and I regret that its neglect may soon be upon us, but our spiritual senses require both if we are to be whole. These two capactities of discernment are no more exclusive of one another than sight is exclusive of hearing. So let us hone both our intellect and our imagination. In the peaceable kingdom that is to come artists, philosophers, scientists, and engineers shall dwell together in harmony.

So, let's all go to movies - but take your faith with you.

Prayer Lab

One of my favorite activities in Peak of the Week is the Prayer Lab. The name Prayer Lab was inspired by college lab classes. Think about college classes: during the week one sits in science classes taking notes and listening to lectures, but at least once a week there is a chance to put all the theory to work in a lab. So in Prayer Lab we put all of our faith and belief to work in a set of "prayer projects."

It is inspiring to see the people in Peak get up and move into small prayer groups or gather around the tables to write cards of encouragement to those on our prayer list. To see the church busy with the work of prayer reminds me of Oswald Chambers' comment that "Prayer does not fit us for the greater work; prayer is the greater work."

I was encouraged to be a part of that greater work tonight; not as the leader, facilitator, organizer, or sponsor, but simply as a co-worker. I gathered in a circle of eight men. I noticed how diverse we were but also what we had in common. I sensed the activity all around me. This is the greater work. How wonderful that God listens and his spirit envelops us as we pray together. I look forward to the outcome of our experiments in our prayer lab.

"For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them." - Matt. 18:20

Prometheus

Our new house is rather old. Instead of a new fangled breaker box, we have a quaint and old-fashioned fuse box. We bought a set of three-pronged adapters for those appliances that have a ground plug, because all of our outlets only have two slots.

None of this helps with our clothes dryer however. It demands the rare gargantuan breed of outlet known as the 220 outlet. For those of you haven't watched a home improvement channel lately, the 220 outlet is the big one that seems to be the boss of all the little outlets. It is the outlet chieftain of the electrical tribe. It is the 110 outlet on steroids. Our house did not have the Schwarzenegger of outlets - until today!

Like a good hunter-gatherer I went on a quest for fire for my family. I would bring them the strange energy so that we may enjoy the blessings of warm fluffy towels. With the help of my reliable wise man (my father-in-law), I braved the perils of jagged steel, high temperatures, and voltage to bring my family fire! Behold what I have wrought! Now dear family I give you the gift of 220 voltage - or maybe it is 240, I really don't understand.

Today I am Prometheus. Pray I do not become too prideful because I don't want to end up chained to a rock with birds pecking on my liver.

Writing Again

I am ready to write again. The last week and a half has been a very moving experience for my family. We live in the same city but we have a new house. The experience of moving has been tiring, but it has been a profound experience of Christian community. We have met God's people at every stage of our move. Everyone has been gracious, generous, and considerate.

One of the features of our new house is an Internet connection as well as the convenience of a wireless connection. So, I am no longer limited to posting at the office or Sweet Bay Coffee Co. Now I can post during the wee hours of the night as I wait for a rather blustery storm to move through town.

There's more to come. Stay in touch and keep reading.