Stewarding Marriage

The other night while tucking myself into bed I did as I usually do - I snuggled. No, I wasn't able to snuggle with someone, instead I snuggled with something. I snuggled up close to a book. Yeah, I read at night. That night I was feeling particularly lonely. I was particularly in need of some company. You know what I mean. The whole I want to be with her right now and just hold her close. Well, yeah, since that wasn't going to happen I went to bed with a book. Perhaps it wasn't my wisest move but due to that lonely frame of mind I went to bed with a book on marriage. Actually a book on sex. No, actually it was a book on God. Wait, how about all three things combined! Yeah, I went to bed with Sex and the Supremacy of Christ. That night I was reading a chapter written by Ben Patterson and at one point he said,

Marriage and sexuality is a stewardship. I must give my wife back better than I received her. And I must give the world we shared back to God better than we received it. Marriage is yet another arena in which to live out your vocation to serve Christ. Dietrich Bonhoeffer once spoke to a love struck couple in a marriage homily: "In your love you see only the heaven of your own happiness, but in marriage you are placed at a post of responsibility towards the world and mankind." We do nothing in this life unto ourselves alone. Even a happy marriage (or great sex) is not only for the happiness of the husbands, wives, and children; it is for the God's glory.

This shocked me. I was dumbfounded, and that doesn't happen often! It wasn't the concept of marriage or sex being for God's glory. No, it was the concept of it being for His use. Rather, for His service. To be, as Bonhoeffer put it, "at a post." It is a heavy responsibility. Sure, I assume (yes, I take it for granted and I know it's wrong) that we'll serve together and tithe together and go to church together and all the rest of that good stuff. But now I need to understand that we will also be a sort of beacon in our society. Wow! That's a pretty tough call. It's not just about us. It's not even just about us and God. It's also about others. This get's, I won't lie, just a little complicated.

A God Who Answers

It is 6:45 in the morning now. I am sitting in front of closed cafeteria doors. Usually breakfast opens at 7:15 and since I knew this I'd taken my Bible hoping to have some "alone" time with God before breakfast. Not today. No, today breakfast opened later. It opened at 8:15. Thankfully I still had my Bible. But what I want to share now is not something I've read while sitting and waiting for breakfast. It is not even something I read while eating my bagel with cream cheese. No, this is something I read while walking towards breakfast. Yeah, I know (believe, me I know) that walking and reading can be dangerous. Once I was knocked down by a parked truck I didn't see because I had my head so buried in the book I was reading. But today I repeated the experience. Not the accident, I mean the combination of reading and walking. I read Psalm 38. I was going to read in Jeremiah but when I opened my Bible it opened to Psalm 38 and so I decided to read it. Wow!

The first four verses speak of how badly sin can wreck a person's life. It made me think of my own "sin tolerance" levels. A friend of mine and I sometimes speak of this and refer to it as such, as "sin tolerance" levels. You know, the whole story of how much sin our bodies or minds can cope with in a movie or a book or a song or any other sort of activity. Sometimes I get careless. In these first four verses it spoke of God's wrath on sin. God firing His missiles against the agent of sin. We are the agents of sin. It's not "the devil made me do it." Rather, it is "I chose to do this." But then it also spoke of the psalmists shame over his sin. It spoke of his grief over his sin and the burden that it was for him. In fact, it was such a burden that his entire body was wracked in pain, even his bones were restless because of sin. Sin doesn't always bother me as much as it should. Instead I flirt with seeing just how far I can go in "tolerating" it. That's wrong. That's dead wrong.

Then, sort of to cheer me up, but not so much either, I read verse 9. In verse 9 the psalmist says that God knows all his desires. Just to know that God knows is a relief. He knows everything. So is it really all that much of a relief? It's kind of a mixed bag for me. I like it that He knows the good (or good desires) in me, but I don't like it that He knows of all the rest. You know, the bad(or bad desires) in me. Actually the rest of me, the bad stuff, that's the majority of me.

But my climax came with verse 15. That is when I stopped walking. I just stopped dead in my tracks. My heart felt as if it'd stopped too. Something else started up though. A feeling of gratitude. You know, the kind that starts in the pit of your stomach and blossoms in your heart and shines out your eyes. Yeah, my eyes were shining - they were welling with tears. What a great verse! The verse promises a God who answers.

Yes, I might be a sinner. Yes, I might not hate my sin as much as I should. Yes, it might not even bother me all that much sometimes. Yes, I might overlook the fact that God knows about my desires and even my breath. Yes, I might try to fend for myself and not care that I am hurting Him. But God still answers.

Not only does He know (vs. 9) but He also answers (vs. 15). Often we talk of not getting the answers we want and the rest of all that jazz. It's silly. We don't deserve any answer at all. We're fortunate just to have Him even condescend to speak with us. So you know what, who cares? God knows and even though He knows (or is it because He knows?) He still chooses to answer us. That's enough for me. Who cares about what answers I might want? All I care about is getting an answer from Him.

But then I froze. The early part of that same verse says that God responds or answers because he (the psalmist) had waited on Him. That means it is a conditional answering service. But then I thought about it some more. Yes, it is conditional, but it doesn't say what condition the waiting has to be in. Job waited a little impatiently and God answered him. Or as Peter Kreeft said, "Job's faith is not sunny and serene, but it is faith. It is not without doubts. (Indeed, his doubts came from his faith. When faith is full, it is open and can include doubts; when it is weak, it cannot tolerate doubts.)" Or we could use the example of Jonah. Yes, Jonah also waited on God. Not with the same kind of doubt as Job, but still with doubt. The difference is Jonah's doubt was an angry doubt, it was an impatient doubt. Yet Jonah also waited on God and he also received an answer. So I suppose the condition of the waiting doesn't matter as long as the condition of waiting is met. God will answer.

A Snuffed Out Candle

It is 6 o'clock in the morning and I'm awake. Yes, I realize this isn't terribly early, but, you have to understand, in my book, this is terribly early. Terribly. I meant to sleep. In fact I meant to sleep since 5 o'clock and hadn't been able to. I went to bed some minutes past midnight and had a restless night of sleep. Then I woke up (at 5) and my mind was on scary movies. No, I've not recently seen any scary movies but they've been on my mind. Let me explain.

A friend and I were just talking about how Sixth Sense though a classic suspense (even somewhat scary) film is not really all that classic. Don't get me wrong it is. I suppose I mean to say that although it is a great movie it's not so great. Still don't make too much sense, do I? Okay, so this movie, Sixth Sense, is in the cinematographic hall of fame for having one of the most twisted endings in movie lore. True. But if you've seen it once you're done with it. At the most you might watch it again just to catch all the subtleties and quirky twists before the final twist. But after a second viewing (which is a bit of a stretch) the movie is done. For that reason it's not even worth buying.

You see, the problem with scary movies (and many suspense ones) is that once seen the thrill is gone. That's not the case with every movie. No, in fact, most movies are thrilling with every viewing. Sometimes the thrill even augments after repeated viewings. Such is the case for comedies, dramas, musicals, and other genres. The reason for this is, I believe, that scary movies are intended to supply the unexpected. Once they are watched the unexpected then becomes expected. After watching the movie once you know when to expect every haunting, every blood sucking, every snap of the neck, every silver bullet shot, every full moon, every evil laugh. All of it. There is no more thrill.

Could this be a problem with everything supernatural? Yes, it affects us with the creepy side of the supernatural realm. By that I mean the daemons, the ghosts, the spectres, the vampires, and what-have-you, but there is another side to the coin as well. Yes, there is a nice side. Supernatural still, but nice. That is the side of the angels, not of the daemons. For example, the parting of the Red Sea, as in the Bible. The first time that story is told us we are fascinated. It is so...so....so unexpected. Wow. It's like a miracle. No, wait, it is a miracle! But then we hear the story again. Maybe we heard it the first time in family devotions. That was great. Then we heard it again in Sunday School. That was great too. This time it came illustrated. True, it was just an old flannelgraph board or some silly slide show of flash cards, but it was still pictured for us. Then we read it for ourselves. Okay. That was kind of cool too. Then we heard it in a sermon. That's when we first felt adult and responsible and enjoyed the story still. But then we read it again. No, actually we didn't. We skimmed it. That's when we dozed during the next sermon on the same story or text. Yeah, you've heard it once, you've heard it a million times.

Unfortunately then I think this is a problem that affects all supernatural events, both the scary and the sacred. Once the thrill of the unexpected has been delivered it soon becomes expected and that equals boredom. Yes, even of the virgin birth or of the resurrection or of other divine occasions. Einstein calls us "a dead, snuffed-out candle." He said, "The fairest thing we can experience is the mysterious. He who knows it not, can no longer wonder, no longer feel amazement, is as a good as a dead, snuffed-out candle." We can no longer let "this little light of mine shine." It has died. It has been snuffed out. How am I suppose to share the awesomeness of redemption - the greatest miracle ever - if I myself have lost the awe of it?

Tourniquet on Regret

Cormac McCarthy authored the book No Country for Old Men which was later adapted into film by the Coen brothers. The film though highly controversial and, at times, disturbing does share a poignant glimpse into the life of the protagonist. The protagonist is portrayed by Tommy Lee Jones and towards the end of the film there is a scene between him and his father. That scene is, I think, the climatic scene in the entire story for, at least, the protagonist. It is certainly the scene that has proven itself to be revolutionary for the character. In a way it was the drop that filled his bucket, or the straw that broke his camels back. The scene is, as I said, shared between he and his father. It is a poignant scene, though not by any accounts should it be categorized as a tender scene.

Our hero, the protagonist, asks his wheelchair ridden father what he would have done if the perpetrator that caused him to live the rest of his life in a wheelchair were still alive and free. (He'd died in prison.) To this the father quietly replies, "Nothing. There'd be no point to it." At this the son remarks his surprise and the father explains, "Well, all the time you spend trying to get back what's been took from you more is going out the door. After a while you just got to try and get a tourniquet on it."

These are the words of the wise. Grey hairs do not come alone. This man lived long enough to discover that regret should not be the priority of life. To much time is spent wasted on the infamous "what might have been" question. We forget it seems that John Greenleaf Whittier spoke of these as the saddest words, and he might well have been correct in his assumption. "For all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these, 'It might have been'." Or to go more contemporary (and Country as well) it was Tim McGraw who sang something similar in his song Red Ragtop. He sang, "Well, you do what you do, and you pay for your sins, and there's no such thing as what might have been, that's a waste of time, drive you out of your mind."

This all takes me back to one of the best films ever made. Yes, you guessed it, Good Will Hunting. As with every film it does have it's flaws and by no stretch of the imagination am I, as I've repeatedly noted, endorsing all the content of any of the content I use in my blog postings. So, yes, although this film may have flaws one of them is not Robin Williams. His nomination and award of the Oscar was well deserved. Near the films halfway mark there is a particularly powerful scene in which he speaks of regret. The scene is powerful because the acting is powerful. The scene is powerful because the dialogue is powerful. The scene is powerful because even the cinematography is powerful. Yet what makes the scene most powerful is the tension of it, and that is due to the fact that the message it has to convey is so powerful. It can truly only be appreciated if it is seen but I will pass on a little of what is said during that scene. The words come from Robin Williams who plays widowed psychologist. During said scene he says, "That's why I'm not talking about a girl I met in a bar twenty years ago and how I always regretted not going over and talking to her. I don't regret the eighteen years I was married to Nancy, and I don't regret the six years I had to give up counseling when she got sick, and I don't regret the last years when she got really sick. And I sure as hell don't regret missing a damned game." Okay, now let me explain. Williams had a choice. He had a choice between cashing in on the ticket he had for some famous baseball game that went down the History hall of fame. Or he had a choice of cashing in on a a girl who made his life the happiest it could be and went down in the Life hall of fame. The point is, he had a choice. Regret is, I believe, a matter of choice. It might have been, is always a matter of choice, because what might have been might also not have been. He, Robin Williams, might have chosen the game over the girl. He might have chosen bitterness over the long haul and final death of his wife due to cancer. But he didn't. He didn't chose to regret. Like in the first film we addressed Williams put a tourniquet on regret. Will I do the same thing or will I live on (it's not even living) with regrets?

Musically Challenged

I love music. I really do, I am a big fan of music. I am also very diverse in my musical tastes. Well, no, that's not really true. I am diverse in my experience of music. In many cases (or genres) I'd even say I am a bit knowledgeable. I'll give everything a chance but my tastes are so far pretty well established. Yet I do leave a door open for more to squeak through on the wings of tolerance and curiosity. But I have to confess that right now I am a little peeved with music. Yes, peeved. Perhaps even outraged!

My most recent post had to do with feelings and the human expression of them (An Expression of Love). At one point I spoke of the poets and their particular genius in crafting the most beautiful expression of feeling. This made me think of the Coleridge illustration and I began to browse through The Abolition of Man by C. S. Lewis. In this small but powerful book he uses this illustration. In the book Lewis tells us that we have become "men without chests." This is an all too true tragedy. Yet there is another tragedy. We have also become "men without brains."

We can no longer feel (chests) or think (brains) on our own. Music dominates much of our life. To be totally honest I feel robbed. This is, I realize, a rant due to my own outrage and that in but a matter of minutes I'll be placidly back in my routine of musical intoxication. But right now the veil is off. The gauntlet has been thrown. The drugs have worn off. Now I see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Ha! That's the problem. I see the light at the end of the tunnel but I cannot express it without the words of a song. My outrage should not be, I'm well aware, aimed solely at music. Poetry and the other literary bastions are also responsible. At the same time I do not lay as much blame at their feet because this is, after all, the age of the cyborg. We are people wired to music. Literature though powerful still has taken a back seat in our current age.

As with the previous post, it is difficult to express our feelings. Yet I think that it is due to the fact that we are no longer in touch with them. We have dulled them by handing them over on a silver platter as it were to the gods and daemons of music. Ah, you see that's the rub, music is both a god and a daemon. It is a good and a bad thing. The fine line of discernment is hard to draw. It was Chesterton who said, "Art, like morality, consists of drawing the line somewhere." Music is an art form in which drawing that proverbial line is incredibly difficult, at times nearly impossible. Yet there is a fine line and it must be walked. The problem is that music is intoxicating and while "under" it's influence one can barely see the line, let alone walk it straight.

Lewis also spoke of the danger of living in amousia. He referred to this in his autobiography, Surprised by Joy. Music was herself once a muse. Yet she has, I'm afraid, drowned us. Pope spoke on the danger of drinking from the Pierian streams. Well, I'm afraid we've now fallen into them and drowned. We are no longer capable of addressing our own feelings. We cannot, as Coleridge, see the waterfall and exclaim "Sublime!" No, now we seek our thrills not from Nature but from music and other media agents. It's pathetic.

An Expression of Love

Someone recently wrote to me on the theme of feelings. Feelings in the emotional, not tactile sense. She wrote of inadequacy in the expression of feelings for another. She said that she felt not only inadequate, but went so far as to say that it was impossible. At the time I agreed with her. Now, well, now, I'm not so sure. Part of me agrees with her yet there is another part that disagrees, or rather wants to disagree.

Part of the reason I want to disagree is due to poetry. In the crafting of poetry - true, beautiful poetry - there are feelings expressed in ways that succeed in simply, to put it poetically, blowing me away! The height of emotion conveyed in, for example, a sonnet makes me wonder if the poet wasn't on some special wavelength with the ancient Muses.

Another reason for my wish to disagree is because I think that maybe all we do is driven by feelings. These are thoughts that have been on my mind only of late. Due mostly because of my friend's recent letter. She wrote, for example, of feeling "inadequate." Well, isn't this too a feeling?

I mean, everything we do is run on feeling. We do this because we enjoy it. We don't do that because we don't enjoy it. Enjoyment is the feeling that triggers most of our responses in life. Yet there are, I admit, actions we commit without a feeling of enjoyment. In fact, we often have to do things we don't enjoy. These are, if I may argue the point, done on a sense of duty. A feeling of enjoyment and a feeling of responsibility can both guide our actions.

Nevertheless it is difficult to express some of our feelings. Love is, I believe, the one feeling we often find most difficult to express. As Christians we like to tackle the idea of love as a feeling and once in our clutches we flog it to death until it becomes nothing but a matter of the will. Christians have transformed love into a matter of commitment and robbed it of the original God-intended thrill. Either extreme is, of course, dangerous.

Love is often spoken of as "chemistry" between two people. That is a very good description. Love, like chemistry, is something no one really understands. Some people, smart people, can have a real good grasp on understanding some of the issues of chemistry (or love), but no one, I believe, ever really understands it at all. There is also a big difference between love and chemistry. People enjoy love, not many people enjoy chemistry (and I can't quite blame them either).

Could this be then why love is so often associated, at least in the secular realm, with feelings? Feelings do not require explanation. Perhaps, as my friend suggested, it is impossible to express them as well. I've said this before, but I strongly believe it, and will just throw it on the table once again. Love is something that cannot be defined. God is love and neither God nor love can be defined. Yet both can be described. God is described, for example, by His attributes. So with love. Love is described by it's virtues or qualities. Many of these are found in the classic I Corinthians 13 passage. There it speaks of patience, selflessness, graciousness and many other virtues which sum up not a definition but rather a description of love. Thomas Watson said, "Love is the queen of the graces; it outshines all the others, as the sun the lesser planets."

Perhaps then love is indeed something that cannot be expressed. Yet Lewis put it well when he said, "One loves though one hardly knows how. " Though we may not know how to love, or even how to express our love, we still do. We take comfort in knowing this.

A Quiet Love

He will rejoice over you with gladness, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing. Zephaniah 3:17

This text has always intrigued me. I am not fully sure of the meaning behind it all, but here are a few thoughts on the matter. According to erudite scholars such as Matthew Henry, the Lord's rejoicing over us with gladness is similar to the exultant rejoicing of a groom over his bride. Absolute ecstasy.

The second part of the verse is not about His quieting us. No, instead it has to do with Him. He will be quiet. Some take this to mean that He will not reproach us for our faults. It's true. He forgave them and He forgot them. They will not be brought back from their dead-sea burial. One teacher told me that if God buried our sins in the deepest sea that there was no longer any need for us to go fishing there. Interesting thought.

But I like to think of Christ as He stood silent before the slanderous accusations that were slapped across His face by Roman and Jewish authorities. Like a Lamb He remained silent, even while being led to the slaughter. In His whispers He expresses His delight. In His shouts He calls for our attention. But in His silence He shows us His love. Jesus delivered many great discourses. The Beatitudes on the Sermon of the Mount or the Last Supper could count as two of the very greatest discourses of all time. Yet the most sublime discourse He ever delivered was His silence prior to our salvation.

God is referred to in many ways. They speak of Him crying. They speak of Him thundering. They speak of Him whispering. They speak of Him glowing or shining. Lewis writes "[John] Donne points out that we are never told He laughed; it is difficult in reading the Gospels not to believe, and to tremble in believing, that He smiled." Yet here, in the third part of the verse, we see Him singing. What an amazing thought.

I won't even pretend to write anything about God singing. But just think about it. He was quiet for us, all because He loved us. There will also come a day when He will sing for us. Perhaps while the prodigal was away there was silence in the home, but on his return there was a fiesta, a real party. They had, I'm sure, singing and dancing too! On our conversion the Bible tells us that the angels start jammin' in Heaven. They have a real celebration. God sings, and I think He might even give us each our own serenade.

Besetting Sins

I'm not sure this is a very good idea, but bear with me. Have you ever thanked God for besetting sins?

Therefore we also, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us. - Hebrews 12:1

When it speaks of sins that ensnare or beset us it is reminiscent of Genesis 4 when God warned Cain that sin was crouching at his door, ready to pounce. We all have these kinds of sin. We all struggle with all kinds of sin. In fact, I'd say we all struggle with all sins to one degree or another. But there are particular sins which seem to beset us more forcefully than others. This, so it turns out, might actually be a good thing.

Lewis wrote, "If you are a nice person - if Virtue comes easily to you - beware! Much is expected from those to whom much is given. If you mistake for your own merits what are really God's gifts to you through naure, and if you are contented with simply being nice, you are still a rebel: and all those gifts will only make your fall more terrible, your corruption more complicated, your bad example more disastrous. The Devil was an archangel once; his natural gifts were as far above yours as yours are above those of a chimpanzee.

But if you are a poor creature - poisoned by a wretched upbringing in some house full of vulgar jealousies and senseless quarrels - saddled, by no choice of your own, with some loathsome sexual perversion - nagged day in and day out by an inferiority complext that makes you snap at your best friends - do not despair. He knows all about it. You are one of the poor whom He blessed. He knows what a wretched machine you are trying to drive. Keep on. Do what you can. One day (perhaps in another world, but perhaps far sooner than that) He will fling it on the scrap-heap and give you a new one. And then you may astonish us all - not least yourself: for you have learned your driving in a hard school."

Switch the analogy of driving that Lewis made for the one made by the author of Hebrews (who was not, I believe, Saint Paul), the one about the race. Interestingly enough Lewis writes about himself in the second paragraph. His upbringing was filled with jealousies and quarrels. He was indeed saddled with a sexual perversion and often felt an inferiority complex around others. Yet look now at how he ran. Look at the legacy he left behind. Paul, though probably not the author of Hebrews, also ran an incredible race even with a thorn in his flesh.

Here is the wonderful news about our sin, I will bear the indignation of the Lord, because I have sinned against Him. Until He pleads my case and executes justice for me. He will bring me forth to the light; I will see His righteousness (Micah 7:9). I'm glad, in a way, to have these sins. They help me become more Christ-like. I am even more glad to have Him as my Advocate. He pleads my case, and does so successfully because He pleads with His own righteousness. If I were to plead my own case all I'd have to show would be filthy rags! I'd be doomed to failure even before beginning. Our sins, even those besetting ones, have all been forgiven because of His righteousness.

His righteousness puts my sin in proper perspective. It also puts His grace in proper perspective. It doesn't matter what your besetting sin might be. John Piper wrote a post titled, Missions and Masturbation and at one point wrote in it, "Periodic failure in this area [masturbation] no more disqualifies you from ministry than periodic failures of impatience (which is also a sin)." The sin doesn't matter, the grace does. The grace of God covers it all. Praise God for His grace!

The Worship Centre

During one of our Chapel services the invited speaker offered a three day series on Beauty, particular the Beauty of God. His messages struck deep and were probably the best that semester. The speaker, Steve DeWitt, encouraged us to glorify God in all things. The Bible tells us to worship God even through our meals. C. S. Lewis suggests that we are to worship God in work and play. DeWitt spoke of worshipping God in all things, including sex. He called this "the worship centre" and spoke of the bed as the marriage altar.

C. S. Lewis, while discussing sex in the afterlife in his book Miracles commented, "The letter and spirit of Scripture, and of all Christianity, forbid us to suppose that life in the New Creation will be a sexual life; and this reduces our imagination to the withering alternatives either of bodies which are hardly recognisable as human bodies at all or else of a perpetual fast. As regards the fast, I think our present outlook might be like that of a small boy who, on being told that the sexual act was the highest bodily pleasure, should immediately ask whether you ate chocolates at the same time. On receiving the answer 'No,' he might regard the absence of chocolates as the chief characteristic of sexuality. In vain would you tell him that the reason why lovers in their carnal raptures don't bother about chocolates is that they have something better to think of. The boy knows chocolate: he does not know the positive thing which excludes it. We are in the same position. We know the sexual life; we do not know, except in glimpses, the other thing which, in Heaven, will leave no room for it. Hence where fulness awaits us we anticipate fasting. In denying the sexual life, as we now understand it, makes any part of the final beatitude, it is not of course necessary to suppose that the distinction of sexes will disappear. What is no longer needed for biological purposes may be expected to survive for splendour. Sexuality is the instrument both of virginity and conjugal virtue; neither men nor women will be asked to throw away the weapon they have used victoriously. It is the beaten and the fugitives who throw away their swords. The conquerors sheathe theirs and retain them."

Augustine and Aquinas both believed that our identities as male and female are kept intact. According to the account of Lazarus and the Rich Man their identities were not changed into mystical spirits, but rather were kept fully recognizable.

Really, the only negating factor to the belief of sexuality in heaven is found in the passage of Matthew 22 where Christ addresses the inquisitive Pharisees on the matter of a woman with multiple husbands. Jesus replies that they would neither give nor be given in marriage.

But now I ask, what is the purpose of eating? You would probably reply, "To satisfy hunger." You're right. But what of Heaven? In Heaven there will be banquets and feasts of exquisite proportions and yet we will never be hungry. So what is the purpose of sexuality? You will probably respond by saying that it is for procreation and recreation. Lewis suggests that though the biological purposes (procreation) be anulled the recreational (splendour) might survive.

Prior to the Fall the Garden was a place of shameless nudity, and, probably, sexuality as well. I doubt that God, being the Creator of this gift (sex), would abolish it with our entrance into Heaven. Just as He does not abolish our physicality or identity, so I doubt He would abolish our sexuality. Or as a friend of mine once put it, "What will the bedrooms of our Heavenly mansions be for? Not just sleeping, I hope." Even so it doesn't really matter all that much because with or without chocolates (sex) Heaven will be a wonderful place. In the end I suppose it doesn't matter so much where I end up as who I end up with. I just want to be with Jesus.

An Autobiography

Somehow I gathered enough of my own conceit together to think that I could draft my own biography. It was a rather simple draft, just a basic outline and some notations. My autobiography was going to be titled The Truth and would consist of four chapters. I would begin with a prologue to explain a few things, a prologue titled Time.The first chapter was going to be titled Testimony for my earliest memory pertains to my salvation at age three. The second chapter would deal with some of the scars in my life and would be titled Trauma. The third chapter would be titled Tragedy. The fourth and final chapter would be titled Triumph. Notice how the entire piece alliterated. What a fool!

Now, in retrospect, for I drafted this when I was in my late teens, I see how much of a fool I was. My story should begin as it began for Shakespeare's Macbeth. It should be - and it is - "a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." Certainly my tale is told by an idiot, but it does, I believe, signify something. It signifies quite a bit, in fact. But everything of significance in it is due to Him. Not to me. It is now His story. I'll let Him draft out the pages, polish them up, and then sign it off in the end.

Learning to Eat Right

The other day I had a very frank conversation with a friend of mine. My friend is a brilliant seminary student who has a knack of taking everything I say and making it turn about to bite me. He rarely answers me straightout if it is a question, and if it is a statement he makes me question my own statement so that I am forced to dig deeper into my foundations of why I said whatever it was I said.

We were talking about tattoos and so we had entered into the Levitical terrain. Our conversation soon spilled from the tattoo controversy to a confession. I don't really like the book of Leviticus. I don't understand it, therefore I don't like it. Or, to make matters worse, I find it boring. Last year I read the Bible from cover to cover, but some of it, I'll admit, I skimmed across. For example, I love the Books of History. Last year I read them all through twice each and this year I've already read them through once. As for the Books of Poetry, well, that is another of my favourite areas to read. Job is one of my favourite books in the Bible and I read it through at least 3 times last year and once already this year. And I read all the other ones too - except for maybe Psalms and Proverbs. I sort of skipped around on those two books. Then I tackled the big Prophet books. I like those quite a bit, especially Isaiah and a few others so I read those and have already read some of them (like Isaiah) this year. On to the Minor Prophets. Those are hit-or-miss. Some of them I enjoy and feel comfortable around, others not so much. But since they are relatively short I think I read through all of them and I know I've read some of them already this year as well. But then we hit the Pentateuch. Oh boy! I enjoy most of Genesis. One of my favourite characters is tucked in its pages. Jacob. And Exodus isn't too bad. But then it goes downhill. I don't really care for Leviticus, or Numbers, and Deuteronomy is only just tolerable.

He laughed at me and said that by skimming those books I'd helped relieve my conscience. It's true and yet it is also true that I just don't really understand or enjoy those books. There is a lot of the Bible I don't understand but I enjoy and so that makes it easy to read. On the other hand there is a lot I don't enjoy but understand and so that makes it so that I have to read it. But when these two requirements (comprehension and pleasure) do not walk hand in hand I find I end up rather disappointed. Spiritual weakness on my part perhaps, I don't know. My seminary friend though admits that although he had an excellent O. T. class that opened up his eyes to the deeper beauties of the Scriptures he still had a hard time running through some of the same books (and others) that I had to run through.

This led me to thinking of a problem I had years earlier. Well, quite frankly I have it still. Years ago I was not having my devotions - at all! My conscience felt relatively appeased though because I would read great Christian books. On my agenda I had Ravi Zacharias and C. S. Lewis and John Piper and other great modern heroes of our faith. Upset - due to Piper - for my own spiritual inadequacy I spoke with a Pastor friend of mine and he said something that stuck with me.

We are supposed to grow in the Lord. To do that we invest in the Scriptures. The Bible refers to itself often as a type of food. Sometimes it's sweet and sometimes it's bitter, but it still needs to be eaten. On conversion we eat like babies because we are new in the faith. As we grow older we begin to eat more like grownups. The problem is sometimes we don't even eat right. We don't like to process the food of the Scriptures so we eat already processed foods, such as Christian books. They aren't bad, of course, but they are chewed up meals already. They have been masticated on by others and are served in small doses, in easy to swallow size.

That was a rough paraphrase of what my Pastor friend taught me. Recently C. S. Lewis presented the same idea in his own words as he prefaced On the Incarnation by St. Athanasius. He wrote, "There is a strange idea abroad that in every subject the ancient books should be read only by the professionals, and that the amateur should content himself with the modern books....He [the reader] feels himself inadequate and thinks he will not understand him [the ancient author]. But if he only knew, the great man, just because of his greatness, is much more intelligible than his modern commentator. The simplest student will be able to understand, if not all, yet a very great deal of what Plato said; but hardly anyone can understand some modern books on Platonism. It has always therefore been one of my main endeavours as a teacher to persuade the young that first-hand knowledge is not onlymore worth acquiring than second-hand knowledge, but is usually much easier and more delightful to acquire."

My Answer

Lord, the answer is "Yes."
Now, whats the question?
- Andrew Murray

Infinite Love

It is maintained that anything so small as the Earth must, in any event, be too small to merit the love of the Creator, we reply that no Christian ever supposed we did merit it. Christ did not die for men because they were intrinsically worth dying for, but because He is intrinsically love, and therefore loves infinitely.

C. S. Lewis hit the nail on the head, or however that silly expression goes. God is love! Somehow it seems so simple and beautiful yet difficult to cope with - all at the same time! Talk about confusing. There is nothing worth loving in me, there is nothing lovable about me. Well, now there is, but it's only because of Him. In Centuries of Meditations Thomas Traherne wrote, "Love can forbear and love can forgive...but love can never be reconciled to an unlovely object...He can never therefore be reconciled to your sin, because sin itself is incapable of being altered; but He may be reconciled to your person, because that may be restored."

Before Christ I was sin and nothing but sin. After Christ I am grace and nothing but grace, at least in God's eyes. He does not see my sin. His eyes do not even acknowledge it. He sees me as washed in the blood of His Son, and clean because of it. Hallelujah!

Figuring Ourselves Out

Laura Pausini in her song Corazon Roto sings a very interesting line. Translated that line says, "I know who I am even if I've not read Freud." That line is sung with strong conviction, as usual her powerful vocals make everything sound very matter-of-factual in a bittersweet sort of way. Still, one does have to wonder.... I mean, it's not easy to figure others out, but it can be worked on. Figuring oneself out is just, well, it seems impossible. I don't know if it is or not, but it sure is hard. Of other people C. S. Lewis said that we could not study them, but only get to know them. Of ourselves, in relation to God, he said, "Be sure that the ins and outs of your individuality are no mystery to Him; and one day they will no longer be a mystery to you." Letting God get to know us sounds weird. After all, He knows us better than we know ourselves. But in a hard to explain (even harder to understand) way He wants us to allow Him in. He wants us to get to know Him and to allow Him to know us as well.

Be Still and Know

The best advice I ever got came from one of the men I most respect. Dan Nuesch once put his hand on my shoulder and told me, "Carter, nunca pases por alto la oportunidad de estarte callado." This, roughly translated, would say, "Carter, never pass up the opportunity to keep quiet." Basically he was telling me to shut up!

Although I have always valued that lesson, I have not, I'm sorry to say, heeded it all that much. Yes, I am a bit of a conversationalist. Not even that. I am more of a lecturer. I talk (and talk and talk...) but it always turns into more of a monologue. I am a thinker, a poor one, but one nonetheless. So I think of what I want to say and plot it out and then expect people to be interested so I begin to talk. They aren't interested. They rarely are. Most people aren't. They expect a conversation, that is dialogue - not monologue!

Still it does suit my temperament quite a bit. I am a writer and so I am used to having one-sided communication. Also as a potential teacher I will be prone to have more monologue (lecture) sequences than any dialogue (conversation) sequences. Even so I must learn to listen. Other people have a lot to say. I must learn to discipline myself into listening those I love as well as those I don't love, well, at least not so easily.

Most of us talk too much. It is amazing how short Jesus' sayings are. When we pray, who does most of the talking? Is it the most important party to the conversation or the least important one? If we had the opportunity to converse with some great person, like Mother Teresa or Alexandr Solzhenitsyn, would we want to do most of the talking, or would we want to listen most of the time? Why do we talk so much to God that we have no time to listen? How patient God must be, waiting until we get rid of all our mental and verbal noise and hoping that we do not then immediately turn from addressing him to addressing the world. In that split second of silence between the time we stop talking to God and start talking to the world, God gets more graces into us than at any other time outside the sacraments.

The above words by Peter Kreeft are reflective of the little heard of (and less practiced) spiritual discipline of silence (or solitude). It is of this discipline that someone once commented that when we turn music and other sounds off we can then finally begin to think.

Affection

It is well past midnight. I am sitting in front of my computer typing this wearing nothing but white, ankle high socks and dark grey boxers. I have a tall, cold glass of Coke sitting on the desk near me. I wish it were Diet Coke but am still glad to have what I've got. I am listening to Elvis Presley and reading C. S. Lewis. The world is now well. All is as it should be and I could not be happier. Or could I? If I put a certain amount of effort into thinking about this last question I am sure I could come up with reasons that might make me happier but I don't want to waste my effort on that. I would rather enjoy the complacency of my idle contentment and just share what I have read by Lewis. The following excerpt is drawn from the Affection chapter of his book, The Four Loves. I have underscored the most important thoughts.

We may say, and not quite untruly, that we have chosen our friends and the woman we love for their various excellences - for beauty, frankness, goodness of heart, wit, intelligence, or what not. But it had to be the particular kind of wit, the particular kind of beauty, the particular kind of goodness that we like, and we have personal tastes in these matters. That is why friends and lover feel they were "made for one another." The special glory of Affection is that it can unite those who most emphatically, even comically, are not; people who, if they had not found themselves put down by fate in the same household or community, would have had nothing to do with each other. If Affection grows out of this - of course it often does not - their eyes begin to open. Growing fond of "old so-and-so," at first simply because he happens to be there, I presently begin to see that there is "something in him" after all. The moment when one first says, really meaning it, that though he is not "my sort of man" he is a very good man "in his own way" is one of liberation. It does not feel like that; we may feel only tolerant and indulgent. But really we have crossed a frontier. That "in his own way" means that we are getting beyond our own idiosyncrasies, that we are learning to appreciate goodness or intelligence in themselves, not merely goodness or intelligence flavoured and served to suit our own palate.

Hunted then Hated

Shakespeare wrote on the symptoms of what C. S. Lewis calls "tyrannous lust" and said:

Past reason hunted and, no sooner had,

Past reason hated.

This is a concept applicable to us in most instances of lust. Now, as I refer to lust I am not referring exclusively towards the sexually impulsed lust but to all lusts in general. Still I will focus on the sexually impulsed lust primarily. The reason for this focus is because it fits so perfectly with the illustration of II Samuel 13:15, which says, "Then Amnon hated her with a very great hatred; for the hatred with which he hated her was greater than the love with which he had loved her." Crazy, huh?

Still I think this does affect us in all of our lusts. I am using lust in a loose fashion, synonymous in a way of desire. We often desire (lust) after something with fervent urgency then - once acquired - the thrill dies. That is often the case with sin. We want it. We get it. We regret it. We hate it. That is, I think, because we go about things the wrong way. First of all, we sin. That is just wrong. A real "no-no." Sin goes against our very nature. Yet at the same time it fits in quite snugly with our nature. Yeah, I know, it's confusing. Our Christian nature goes against sin. It doesn't mix, kind of like water and oil. On the other hand our Human nature and sin go along hand in hand. Yet it's the Human nature that requires a constant execution (commonly called consecration). So if it is put to death it is only resurrected every time sin is commited. Sin is done and then repented of, or regretted at least, and then...Yeah, and then we hate ourselves for falling - again!

Thank God for forgiveness!

Is All Enough?

Elvis Presley is truly the King of Rock-n-Roll. You can't help but feel a jive go on inside of you as you listen to the sound of his songs. The piano in A Big Hunk o' Love is incredible. Sometimes that inner jive begins to spill out and I begin to spin around. His music is just that powerful, and that good too! Well, it's in that same song that he says, "You're just a natural born bee hive, filled with honey to the top, but I aint greedy, baby, all I want is all you've got!" That comment got me to thinking (a dangerous habit of mine). Why do we always want more? Or rather, why do we always want it all? Can't we conform ourselves with less? Sometimes a little less is enough. Sometimes all can be too much. Too much can be rather gluttoneous. Of course sometimes all can still not be enough too, so it really depends. This makes me think of my other post, The Deal on Dating. We expect all and so we feel we have to give all. Either way it's impossible. Even in a marriage situation where more is had than at any point prior you can never still have it all. That is, I suppose, the wonder or beauty or magic of it all. It leaves you wanting more.

The Deal on Dating

A number of years ago I read a book titled I Kissed Dating Goodbye. It was, to say the least, an interesting book. I respect the author (Josh Harris) very much and admire his convictions. At the time they seemed best. After all, as Christians we are not supposed to run about dating like chickens with our heads cut off. The metaphor may be a little off, but I think you get the picture. Dating for the Christian audience should equal marriage. In a secular environment it is not for marriage but rather for having fun. Fun for a secular audience is usually equivalent to sex, at least according to the Christian bias of the world and its methods. Dating in the secular realm is casual. On the other hand, in the spiritual realm it is all about commitment. Either way, in my book, it's just not cool.

Anyways, it just so happens that at that time I had fallen into the Christian trap. The opening illustration to the book served only to strengthen that strangle that had already taken hold of me. The illustration was about a character about to be married and while waiting for his bride to step up the aisle several girls look to him. They are the girls of his past. In a way it is similar to the film Ghosts of Girlfriends Past, only much cleaner. These girls (ghosts) all cry out to him reminding him (haunting him) of his treatment towards them. All the spent caresses, the used up kisses, the dismissed promises, the broken vows, and the wasted words now back - angrier than ever.

So in my mind it seemed only natural to regret every tangible love affair (and intangible as well). Whenever my heart weakened before a girl it had to cave in completely or else it was just not worth it. This was due in part to my own rather passionate nature but also to the idea that I could only fall in love once. It was a flawed plan from the start. Soon I began to regret ever saying the *three magic words and turned them into curse words until I was no longer capable of sharing them (*I love you). I was afraid to look at an attractive girl (let alone touch her) for fear I might like her and yet she not be "the one."

There is a lot of talk going about finding "the one." If you ask me I think it's bogus. Just a bunch of huey! In the grand scheme of things there might be a "the one" scenario, but even then I don't think it very likely at all. I was terrified of what C. S. Lewis spoke of when he commented on religion, "This quasi-religion was all a one-way street: all eros (as Dr. Nygren would say) steaming up, but no agape darting down." Do you understand? It was all a paranoia of being haunted by my own folly. Or, perhaps worse, a paranoia of hurting someone else. This second one was the nobler of the two reasons, only because it was Biblically justified. Yet it was, I'll admit, not the primary reason.

In the back of my mind there was this idealized vision of saying I love you only to my wife. Of kissing (and all the rest of that good stuff) only with my wife. Well, that was just not the case. I did like other girls - yes, even my emotions and attractions had to be suspended until I encountered "the one." So, yes, I did like other girls but then ended repenting of it....right before meeting the next one! Thus George Whyte-Melville wrote, "We always believe our first love is our last, and our last love our first."

It took me some time to understand what Lewis later wrote of (only in the following chapter). "But a desire is turned not to itself but to its object. Not only that, but it owes all its character to its object. Erotic love is not like desire for food, nay, a love for one woman differs from a love for another woman in the very same way and the very same degree as the two women differ from one another. Even our desire for one wine differs in tone from our desire for another. Our intellectual desire (curiosity) to know the true answer to a question is quite different from our desire to find that one answer, rather than another, is true. The form of the desired is in the desire."

Sacred Picklocks

Whenever you cannot understand a text, open your Bible, bend your knee, and pray over that text, and if it does not split into atoms and open itself, try again.

If prayer does not explain it, it is one of the things God did not intend for you to know, and you may be content to be ignorant of it.

Prayer is the key that opens the cabinets of mystery.

Prayer and faith are sacred picklocks that can open secrets, and obtain great treasures! There is no college for holy education like that of the blessed Spirit, for He is an ever-present tutor, to whom we have only to bend the knee, and He is at our side, the great expositor of truth.

Charles Haddon Spurgeon, commonly called "the Prince of Preachers," wrote the above statements. We have, at salvation, been installed into the family of God. But there is more to it than just that. We have also become part of His home. We are members of his house and with that come certain responsibilities or chores. According to I Corinthians 4:1 we have been installed in His home as servants and stewards (similar to a manager). What is it though that we have to manage? Well, the verse answers that question, "Let a man regard us in this manner, as servants of Christ and stewards of the mysteries of God." We are to manage the mysteries of God. Tough call. This means, I think, that we are to become familiar and skillful with the Scriptures. Capable of realizing the call in II Timothy 2:16 to "accurately handle the word of truth." A Word which is as sharp as a sword and which requires the expertise of a good swordsman, yet with the caution of a wise one as well. C. S. Lewis wrote, "The sword glitters not because the swordsman set out to make it glitter but because he is fighting for his life and therefore moving it very quickly." Our responsibility, even our capability, are no call for pride. We are managing/handling the Scriptures because we are commanded to, and our only real access to them is through the "sacred picklocks" that Spurgeon wrote of - prayer and faith.

A Lesson on Lists

I am, I'll admit, an avid list maker. Yes, it's true. I won't deny it. I love to make lists. When I go shopping I always make a list. I make a list because it helps me not to forget what I went shopping for. I make a list so I can keep to the task at hand and not get too far out of my budget. I also make a list because I feel powerful whenever I cross things off it.

Yet there is one area in which I hate to make lists. When I was growing up I would hear girls giggle over their "dream lists." You know, the kind of list where she puts down all the attributes she's looking for in a guy. Usually it is ridiculous stuff such as "That he make me laugh." Or, "That he enjoy midnight strolls on sandy beaches." And so on and so forth.

First of all lists such as those make absolutely no sense. Whatever you get is going to be what you have been looking for subconsciously anyways. I mean if you like humour you will be drawn towards funny guys. If, on the other hand, you have a more romantic edge you will be attracted to the more chivalrous kind. It's all part of your makeup and you don't need a list.

Besides you'll never figure yourself or the other person out well enough. I mean, sure, you'll get what you want and what you look for, but at the same time I think more than 80% of what you'll get in the other person will be a surprise. And that's great. God wanted it that way. He wrapped us all up in a lot of mystery and there is no greater anticipation than the ecstasy of getting to know the other person every day a little more and a little better.

Which brings up another point - God doesn't need your lists. He doesn't work according to your lists or to anyone elses. He has His own agenda, and He sticks to it!

Miguel de Cervantes (the author of Don Quixote) wrote his own list and said, "Required in every good lover... the whole alphabet...Agreeable, Bountiful, Constant, Dutiful, Easy, Faithful, Gallant, Honourable, Ingenious, Joyful, Kind, Loyal, Mild, Noble, Officious, Prudent, Quiet, Rich, Secret, True, Understanding, Valiant, Wise...Young and Zealous." That is quite a list for any guy to fill out. Although I do find it interesting to note that he did not put anything physical into it. I mean, there are no physical qualities sought after and nothing descriptive as to appearance is even mentioned.

God has put up lists for us. He has put up lists for guys and for girls. There is more than one list for each but often some of the "traits" are repeated in each. For example, the guys get Psalms 15 and the girls get the classic Proverbs 31. In these passages, just as with Cervantes, the physical is not mentioned. There is a lot talked about concerning attraction, the qualities mentioned are, after all, desirable, but there is nothing to be said of physical attraction. That's not to say that it is omitted because of negligence or lack of importance. God does talk about beauty - a lot. He encourages it. Yet He also understands that it is in "the eye of the beholder" whereas all the other traits must be observed by all and cannot be individualized.

Mark Driscoll spoke on this idea of lists and related it to Ruth. She was not the kind of girl who would be list making material on normal standards. She was a foreigner. She didn't have money. She lived with her mother-in-law. She wasn't a virgin. She was a widow. She was pretty aggressive with her come-ons. Not exactly list material and yet she made it into the lineage of Christ. She was the girl of any man's dreams, just not of his dream lists.

God as our Manager

God seems to do nothing of Himself which He can possibly delegate to His creatures. He commands us to do slowly and blunderingly what He could do perfectly in the twinkling of an eye.

C. S. Lewis wrote this comment on God and it has struck me as rather strange. Why would God do this? Could it be that, to paraphrase from the Batman Begins film, we fall so we can learn to pick ourselves back up again? So we work - poorly - so we can learn to work properly. Is this some form of training for a greater job up ahead? We do, after all, have a lot of work ahead of us.

We are not saved by works, but we are saved for works (Eph. 2:10). There have been works prepared for us. I am not sure what this all means. This is just a few of my thoughts on the matter. It might mean that we all have our respective works, or chores, to realize. We are a family, yet in this family though we are all the same we are all different. Brilliant contradiction, but not really, it is only an apparent contradiction and whenever an apparent contradiction is found one is sometimes able to find a perfect complement to explain it all away.

As a family we are one unit, but we are all quite individual all along. It works also with the metaphor of the body. We are one body yet we all have individual responsibilities (works). We all work together to the same end but our chores (works) might vary. One could insert here the controversial idea of spiritual gifts, or talents, or abilities, or any other form of capability. And yet it is interesting to consider that we are all unique. We are different in that we are really all the same. We all work together for His glory.

The key concept is, I think, to simply overlook what our individual responsibilities might be and just to get the job done. It's not like we aren't all responsible to serve, to evangelize, to teach, to encourage, and so much more. I might be more suited in one area, say teaching for example, but I am still going to be held accountable for evangelism. Frightening thought!

So let's get the job done, remembering that William Law said, "For God has made no promises of mercy to the slothful and negligent. His mercy is only offered to our frail and imperfect, but best endeavors, to practice all manner of righteousness."

Cracks in the Temple

What are cracks useful for? Nothing!

Cracks are dangerous things. They are open areas that should remain closed. They allow rain water to seep in. They accumulate dust, filter in cold air or even bugs. They can also cause, if untreated, the destruction of the entire edifice.

Josiah was a king without parallel. One of the reasons for his reign being so successful is because of his excellent relationship with God. Before him there was no king like him, who turned to the Lord with all his heart and with all his soul and with all his might, according to the law of Moses; nor did any like him arise after him (II Kings 23:25). That is quite a legacy to leave behind.

One day while Josiah was worshipping in the temple he noticed some cracks in the temple and demanded they be repaired. Josiah was so concerned he got men together to repair the temple. Not just any men, he got the best.

The king entrusted his honoured workers with a great task yet he also provided them with all the materials necessary for its completion. In fact, he trusted them so much that he asked that the materials they used not be taken into account. Only no accounting shall be made with them for the money delivered into their hands, for they deal faithfully (II Kings 22:7). He trusted them completely.

We too have been entrusted with a tremendous task. We are God's temples, our bodies are now His home (I Cor. 3:16). But there are some huge differences between us. Where Josiah chose only the best God did something quite different. God chose the worst. Because of that He ended up with you and me "the foolish of this world" (I Cor. 2:27). He gave us, the lowly and vile of the world, a tremendous task and yet He has also habilitated us with all we need (pertaining to life and godliness) to get the job done.

So although we were chosen and made capable He will take account of us. Perhaps Josiah trusted his men and considered them faithful, well that's not the same case with God. He will take account of us. He will hold us accountable for what we do (as well as what we don't do).

Yet to all of this there is a surefire formula for success - a tender and humbled heart (II Kings 22:19).

The Power of the Cross

As we have taken the circle as the symbol of reason and madness, we may very well take the cross as the symbol at once of mystery and health. Buddhism is centripetal, but Christianity is centrifugal: it breaks out. For the circle is perfect and infinite in its nature; but it is fixed forever in its size; it can never be larger or smaller. But the cross, though it has at its heart a collision and a contradiction, can extend its four arms for ever without altering its shape. Because it has a paradox in its center it can grow without changing. The circle returns upon itself and is bound. The cross opens its arms to the four winds; it is a signpost for free travelers. (G. K. Chesterton)

The figure of the Crucified invalidates all thought which takes success for its standard. (Dietrich Bonhoeffer)

The cross is the only ladder high enough to reach heaven's threshold. (G.D. Boardman)

Jesus was crucified, not in a cathedral between two candles, but on a cross between two thieves. (George F. MacLeod)

The cross cannot be defeated for it is defeat. (G.K. Chesterton)

There are no crown-wearers in heaven who were not cross-bearers here below. (Charles H. Spurgeon)

We need men of the cross, with the message of the cross, bearing the marks of the cross. (Vance Havner)

Christ's cross is such a burden as sails are to a ship or wings to a bird. (Samuel Rutherford)

The old cross slew men; the new cross entertains them. The old cross condemned; the new cross amuses. The old cross destroyed confidence in the flesh; the new cross encourages it. (A. W. Tozer)

All heaven is interested in the cross of Christ, all hell is terribly afraid of it, while men are the only beings who more or less ignore it. (Oswald Chambers)

These are simply a few of the musings I've collected on the theme of the Cross over the past couple months. Powerful thoughts. Powerful cross. One of my favourite songs is The Power of the Cross by Keith Getty. The message stated in that song must grip the heart of everyone who listens to it, if it doesn't there is something very wrong with that heart. It is cold. It is dead. When I hear this song my heart swells with a confusion of emotions, as do my eyes. I will inevitably cry as this song plays. My tears are a sign of my own emotions, mixed and torn as they are. They are tears which reveal the grief I sense at the thought of my Saviour's suffering. They are tears which reveal my joy as I sense the relief of salvation. They are tears of exultant gratitude as I know I now stand forgiven at the cross.

Duels Between Mysteries

...it is possible in the same solely practical manner to give a general answer touching what in actual human history keeps men sane. Mysticism keeps men sane. As long as you have mystery you have health; when you destroy mystery you create morbidity. The ordinary man has always been sane because the ordinary man has always been a mystic. He has permitted the twilight. He has always had one foot in earth and the other in fairyland. He has always left himself free to doubt his gods; (but unlike the agnostic of today) free also to believe in them. He has always cared more for truth than for consistency. If he saw two truths that seemed to contradict each other, he would take the two truths and the contradiction along with them. His spiritual sigh is stereoscopic, like his physical sight: he sees two different pictures at once and yet sees all the better for that. Thus he has always believed that there was such a thing as fate, but such a thing as free will also. Thus he believed that children were indeed the kingdom of heaven, but nevertheless ought to be obedient to the kingdom of earth. He admired youth because it was young and age because it was not. It is exactly this balance of apparent contradictions that has been the whole buoyancy of the healthy man. The whole secret of mysticism is this: that man can understand everything by the help of what he does not understand. The morbid logician seeks to make everything lucid, and succeeds in making everything mysterious. The mystic allows one thing to be mysterious and everything else becomes lucid. The determinist makes the theory of causation quite clear, and then finds that he cannot say "if you please" to the housemaid. The Christian permits free will to remain a sacred mystery; but because of this his relations with the housemaid become a sparkling and crystal clearness. He puts the seed of dogma in a central darkness; but it branches forth in all directions with abounding natural health.

G. K. Chesterton wrote this in the second chapter (The Maniac) of his book Orthodoxy. In this book he addresses a vast array of intriguing concepts. Sanity and Insanity are in a duel. Mysticism and - what could go here? Perhaps Factualism or something of that scientific calibre. In the end he also pits Free Will and Fate in its own duel. Yet all these "intriguing concepts" are still part of a great mystery. Someone once said that genius was the standard to distinguish between sanity and insanity. If that is the case then what of the demented genius of Hitler and other vicious conquerors? It is all a mystery. Perhaps, though, there is no greater mystery than the Free Will of man.

Searching for Self

Your real, new self (which is Christ's and also yours, and yours just because it is His) will not come as long as you are looking for it. It will come when you are looking for Him. Does that sound strange? The same principle holds, you know, for more everyday matters. Even in social life, you will never make a good impression on other people until you stop thinking about what sort of impression you are making. Even in literature and art, no man who bothers about originality will ever be original: whereas if you simply tell the truth (without caring two pence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it. The principle runs through all life from top to bottom. Give up yourself, and you will find your real self. Lose your life and you will save it. Submit to death, death of your ambitions and favourite wishes every day and death of your whole body in the end: submit with every fibre of your being, and you will find eternal life. Keep back nothing. Nothing that you have not given away will be really yours. Nothing in you that has not died will ever be raised from the dead. Look for yourself, and you will find in the long run only hatred, loneliness, despair, rage, ruin, and decay. But look for Christ and you will find Him, and with Him everything else thrown in.

- C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

A Head Held High

The only thing I know, my only 'claim to fame,' is that once I was blind but now I can see. My testimony is summarized in the same words of Bartimaeus as he said, "One thing I know is that once I was blind but now I can see" (John 9:15). Jesus opened my eyes.

Before I had been blind but now I was able to see. Of course I was still not allowed to see everything. Even Moses had to content himself with seeing God's back. But now, with this ability to see, I have to learn where to place my sight. The Bible unlocks the secret to the most exquisite vision available. Hebrews 12:2 tells us to "fix" our eyes on Jesus, He is the source of all beauty.

Unfortunately I often let my eyes wander. That's when God knocks me down just so I'll look up again. Some of the most severe trials in my life have also produced some of the most intimate visions of God. Such was the case with Stephen as well. Stephen also got knocked down, yet it was because the world was not worthy of him. While the stones were being thrown and the portals of death began to open Stephen caught a vision of God (Acts 7). Stephen kept his head up when others would have ducked, if only instinctively to avoid the oncoming rocks.

But You, O Lord, are a shield about me, my glory, and the One who lifts my head (Psalms 3:3). When we get down, even when knocked down, God lifts our head. He holds our heads up. If our eyes wander or waver He is there to lift our eyes back up to Him. When things get difficult and we'd rather look away, He holds our head high so we can look to Him. Jars of Clay sing about this promise in God will lift up your head (one of my favourite songs).

Stephen understood that with his eyes fixed on the Rock of his salvation no other rocks could harm him. We too must look to Christ. He has promised to succor us, to be our "opportune rescue." So, to paraphrase Hebrews 10:22-23, Let's get close to God and trust Him with all we've got because He has promised to care for us, and He never fails His promises.

On Judging Others

The poet never maketh any circles about your imagination, to conjure you to believe for true what he writes. He citeth not authorities of other histories, but even for his entry calleth the sweet Muses to inspire him a good invention; in truth, not labouring to tell you what is, or is not, but what should or should not be. And therefore, though he recount things not true, yet because he telleth them not for true, he lieth not, - without we will say that Nathan lied in his speech, before alleged, to David; which as a wicked man durst scarce say, so think I none so simple would say that Aesop lied in the tales of his beasts: for who thinks that Aesop writ it for actually true were well worthy to have his name chronicled among the beasts he writeth of.

Sir Philip Sidney in his An Apology for Poetry brings up, in a way, a recent post of mine (Truthfully Fictitious). It is interesting that we often do not labour to tell others what is, instead we labour to tell them what should be. We are not poets, though. We are judges. David was not being a poet. He was being judgmental. The funniest part of it all is that he was judging another for his own sin. He was of course all along judging himself. We are quick to pass judgments on others yet forget that we too are like Aesop's beasts - stupid.

Family Problems

Deuteronomy 1:31 paints a beautiful picture when it says, "and in the wilderness where you saw how the Lord your God carried you, just as a man carries his son." There is something remarkable about seeing a father carry his son. My dad used to carry me everywhere. My mom still loves to tell the story of how he once hiked up a mountain and I slept through the entire trail on his shoulders. Although I don't remember that I do remember that as a child I would play "blind." He would lead me by the hand and I had to keep my eyes closed. He would help me step off the curb, avoid pot-holes, and climb over bumps. It was great. I trusted him completely.

Another beautiful picture is in Isaiah 66:13 when he says, "As one whom his mother comforts, so I will comfort you." A mother's comfort is the best cure to almost any problem. I remember my mother often comforting me with her wise advice, good food, or an embrace.

Why then is it so difficult for me to fit into my family? Yes, it's true I sometimes find it difficult to fit into my family on earth, but I also find it difficult to fit into my spiritual family. It's not just sibling rivalry or jealous affections. No, it is a problem I have with God Himself. Sometimes I don't trust Him. I don't want Him to walk me by the hand and carry me. I'm a big boy, according to my standards. I mean, I've been a Christian for over 20 years. I should be able to handle myself by now. I can taste a little of the world and not get intoxicated by it all. Not so! So I crash, and He let's me fall. Then He picks me up. He comforts me and one would think I'd be grateful. Instead I am often resentful. I wonder why He let me fall in the first place. It seems to me I don't make any sense. I'm ridiculous. First I want to walk alone. Then I complain for feeling abandoned.

Eyes Unblinded

And how long will they not believe in Me, despite all the signs which I have performed in their midst? (Numbers 14:11)

There is reason to our faith. Our faith is not the absence of reason. Nor is it the absence of signs. Therefore it cannot be the absence of sight. Faith is not blind. That is simply ridiculous! If faith is not blind then what of love? Is love blind? My answer to this is also in the negative. An absolute NO!

Peter Kreeft in his book Three Philosophies of Life writes on the philosophy of suffering (based off of Job) and says, "Jesus told Martha, before he raised her brother Lazarus from the dead, "Did I not tell you that if you believe you will see the glory of God?" Seeing is not believing, but believing is seeing, eventually. Job does not wait patiently, but he waits. Job's faith is not sunny and serene, but it is faith. It is not without doubts. (Indeed, his doubts come from his faith. When faith is full, it is open and can include doubts; when it is weak, it cannot tolerate doubts.)" For more on this concept of a 'dubious faith' check out my post titled A Doubtful Faith.

I believe that faith instead of making you blind will open your eyes. I believe the same for love. In the case of love it is only once you are in love that you really begin to see. Everything breaks into life, suddenly everything is more beautiful. It's a revolutionary experience. As for faith being blind, a friend of mine once said that faith is blind only to the impossible. This for the Christian is a great relief because we know that in Christ there is nothing impossible anymore.

A Matter of Perception

One, seeming to be a traveller, came to me and said, "What is the shortest journey from one place to the same place?"

The sun was behind his head so that his face was illegible.

"Surely," I said, "to stand still."

"That is no journey at all," he replied. "The shortest journey from one place to another is round the world."

These are the opening lines to Chesterton's fable Homesick at Home. This is a fascinating dispute as to point of view. Sometimes our points of view are more on the lines of a "no journey at all." We like to keep it simple. We want the righteousness of the cross without the cost of the cross. We want Christianity without commitment. We want to be viewed as good people in church on Sundays and yet we adopt a worldview for everything else throughout the rest of the week.

Joshua, Caleb, and ten other men snuck into Canaan. They all saw the same exact things, yet they all saw them from different points of view. Their perception was different. Ten of them saw giants so big they were undefeatable. Two of them saw giants so big they were impossible to miss. Such was the case with David as well. He saw a giant, but he saw a giant in God, not in Goliath. Jesus saw children where the others only saw a nuisance. In each and every instance the point of view defined the moment. Our perception widens once we see through the eyes of Christ. That is when we sense the most compassion, particularly for the lost. Our perception also widens when we look to Christ. It is then that we realize we can overcome. We can overcome the evil around us, after all, He is on our side. More importantly though, we can also overcome the evil within us. You know, that nagging voice that tears us down for our faults. That voice that demands punishment of us for our many faults. Look to Jesus, He's all we need.

Indifference is Ignorance

Michael Buble is, in my opinion, phenomenal. He has taken timeless classics and brought them back to life. In his renditions of some songs he even seems to have improved them from their original quality. Not only that but he is also a musical genius. He has taken songs that did not fit into the Swing category (for example Country songs) and made them Swing. His songs frequently have the peppy beat of Swing sounds and I like that sound a lot. I also like his voice. I think he has real talent. So the combination of these two things - great sounds and great vocals - should make for great music, right? Well, yes, but not always.

I really like most of his songs, but there are a few that just don't make any sense. The following song (I'm Your Man) is a song with a great sound and great vocals, but the rest of it is pretty bad. The lyrics are not good and the philosophy they present is even worse. There are some good lines (for example, if you want a doctor I'll examine every inch of you), but there are too many contradictions throughout the song. In the song's chorus he says, "a man never got a woman back, not by begging on his knees." Yet the entire song is a series of degradations. He (the character in the song) is willing to do anything she asks of him. He is willing to be the father of her child or someone with whom she can walk on the sand. That's ridiculous.

Yes, a man must make exceptions and adaptations for the one he loves. But he must also learn to stand up for himself. There is a huge difference between a casual stroll along the sand and the fathering of a child. If he had any self respect he would tell her what he wants and then together they should work it out. As it stands he is too wishy-washy. G. K. Chesterton said, "Impartiality is a pompous name for indifference, which is an elegant name for ignorance." His indifference as to what she wants is really ignorance. He will do whatever she wants, he is indifferent to what it might be. In fact in the song he offers to be a boxer, a doctor, a driver, a victim, a lover, a father and so much more. Love will demand many things of us and we must know what we will deliver. His indifference is really ignorance. He doesn't know what he wants to he expects her to tell him what he is supposed to be. That's absurd.

Does God Use Sin?

Christians often make the mistake of demanding too much from the lost. These demands, or expectations, are very unfair and serve as but another example of how judgmental we are in our own overly zealous self-righteousness.

Rahab, for example, lied to let the spies go free. This has posed a serious problem for many Christians who wonder how it is possible for a pagan prostitute to lie and still be accepted into the lineage of our Lord Jesus Christ. The only available answer is: His grace is abundant. That answer serves not only to explain Rahab's acceptance into the family of Christ, but also our own.

Precisely because she was pagan she was able to lie. You can't expect her to know what to do. She didn't even know what the right thing to do was! She didn't know any better. The laws of Jericho did not, I'm sure, tell its citizens not to lie. They were not under the same laws as the Jews. Perhaps her conscience originally dictated lying as a sin or as something wrong. But that was only at the beginning. Soon there comes (even for us as Christians) a point of cauterization where we no longer discern between right and wrong.

The still doesn't answer the question of God blessing her lie (or at least using that same lie). Yes, grace can explain acceptance, even forgiveness, but how does it explain how that lie was condoned? Well, quite frankly, it wasn't. God does not condone sin. Ever.

He did not bless her lie or her sin, He blessed her. Yes, He did use her lie, but only in the same way that He uses our own frailty and several weaknesses to magnify His own power. As earthen vessels we can crack. But since we are filled with His light that means that He will shine through - even through the cracks.

Thomas Watson probably explained it best, "The wisdom of God is seen in this, that the sins of men shall carry on God's work; yet that He should have no hand in their sin. The Lord permits sin, but doth not approve it. He hath a hand in the action which sin is, but not in the sin of the action."

On Breaking His Body

Tatoos were considered sinful by Christians during earlier times. In fact in Old Testament times it was a sin (Leviticus 19:28). Since then we've developed a profound dislike for anything that ties us down. It seems so primitive to be stuck in the Old Testament. After all, we are now under "grace" is the popular argument advocated.

What we do to our flesh, our skin, is now an open debate among many Christians. To make matters even more cloudy they now aspire after what they term "Christian" tattoos. This does not affect only our flesh (or skin). It also affects our hair lengths. Originally Christians abided by the simplicity of I Corinthians 11:14 which explained, "Does not even nature itself teach you that if a man has long hair, it is a dishonor to him?"

This text, as well as the one on tattoos, is now reduced to material for argument. The most popular argument on this one is context. Context is also a worthy argument for the verse on tattoos. According to the context in Leviticus it was also wrong to shave or to eat blood filled foods (verses 26 and 27).

Still, one must acknowledge that the pseudo art of tattooing is dangerous. It involves cutting oneself. Cutting oneself has always been a practice related to the occult. When the 450 priests danced and cried for Baal to prove himself for the Israelites they resorted to cutting themselves to get his attention (I Kings 18). Then there was also the demon possessed man who lived amongst tombs and would cut himself (Luke 8).

Another position for debate is now modesty. What does that even mean? Can you wear a mini skirt or should you not even show your ankles? Is it true that the Bible say's "without the wearing of ties there is no remission of sin"?

To all of this I have my opinions. On some of them I even have a conviction. But I think we are missing the big picture. We have resorted to a vicious self ownership. This is my body and I'll do with it as I please. I can tattoo. I can be hairy. I can wear what I want. I can eat and drink what I want. I can abort if I want. I can do anything I want, 'cause it's my body.

On the other hand Christ tells us, "This is my body which is broken for you" (I Cor. 11:24). He did not claim any special privileges. Instead He renounced them. He gave up His body. He had His body broken. All of this so that we could be His. We are bought with a price. A high price, in fact, it is a price so high that we cannot measure the true value of it all. Yet we must be willing to pay the cost. We must learn also to make our own lives, including our bodies, living sacrifices.

On Religion

I believe that the greatest trick of the devil is not to get us into some sort of evil but rather have us wasting time. This is why the devil tries so hard to get Christians to be religious. If he can sink a man's mind into habit, he will prevent his heart from engaging with God. I was into habit. I grew up going to church, so I got used to hearing about God. He was like Uncle Harry or Aunt Sally except we didn't have pictures.

This is part of Donald Miller's experience as related in Blue Like Jazz. Religion is certainly an interesting thing. Miller is acknowledged as being of the "emergent" brand. Another religious writer, highly respected among Protestant ranks even though Catholic was G. K. Chesterton. It was Chesterton who wrote, "So far as a man may be proud of a religion rooted in humility, I am very proud of my religion; I am especially proud of those parts that are most commonly called superstition. I am proud of being fettered by antiquated dogmas and enslaved by dead creeds (as my journalistic friends repeat with so much pertinacity), for I know very well that it is the heretical creeds that are dead, and that it is only reasonable dogma that lives long enough to be called antiquated."

Now, I certainly hope I am not the only who is reminiscing the joyous ignorance of Tevye as he sings and dances to Tradition from Fiddler on the Roof. You see, religion is often associated with superstition. Christ came to bring Truth. Religion is often associated with tradition as well. Christ came to abrogate tradition and deliver us into a new Freedom.

Inheriting His Peace

Peace I leave with you; My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Do not let your heart be troubled, nor let it be fearful. (John 14:27)

When Jesus was on earth He didn't really have anything. He had to fish for His taxes (or rather send Peter out for fish). He didn't have anywhere to lay His head and was found sleeping on hard wooden boat boards. For His parade He had to borrow a donkey and ride on it to get into town. According to some standards He didn't have anything. If someone has nothing than that's all they can give you.

Of course, our standards are a little different. He had something much better than anything material. Therefore, in His love, He left us the greatest inheritance imaginable.

Sometimes inheritances give way to conflicts and family disputes. One person wanted something that another got and so on and so forth. It's the sort of stuff that enriches the suspense of mystery thrillers as it often motivates the crimes committed. But not so with Jesus. He has enough for all, and gives equally to all as well (though not all take advantage of it to an equal degree).

His inheritance is peace. In John 14:27 He promised to leave us His peace, a peace unlike any other. It's interesting that in a sense He promised to leave us Himself. He is, after all, the Prince of Peace.

This peace is unlike any other. The world promises peace - and fails. The world tries to provide peace by causing wars. I mean, how crazy is that? The world will never be able to provide what it doesn't have. It is, as Christ said, a case of the blind leading the blind.

Philippians 4:6-7 tells us that God's peace surpasses all of our expectations (as does everything that comes from God). It also promises to guard our hearts. That is a beautiful promise.

Truthfully Fictitious

Writers lie. So do tape recorders and video cameras. So does memory. As a fiction writer this doesn't bother me at all. I only have to be true to my imagination, to the characters I create, and the events that I cause. In fiction, the writer is God, without quarreling apostles, without competing deities and without any foot-dragging villagers.

The above words, spoken by Amy Bloom, reveal a sad truth. A truth which actually shelters an even deeper lie. Yes, everything and everyone (except God) lies. Our memories are not so often mistaken in telling us the truth as they are in crafting a new truth. A truth which is, in our eyes at least, better. Yet that is not so. We have to be true to the One who is true, who is, in fact, Truth Himself. Or is it really true after all? Is it true that it is better, even easier, to live a lie? It happens so frequently. So nonchalantly. It's part of our everyday lives. We sugarcoat the truth. We embellish it a little here and withdraw a few facts from it there. In the end we all live a lie.

It was Chesterton who said, "Truth is stranger than fiction because we create fiction to suit ourselves." Though, as strange as it may be, it is still held in high regard. People still respect those who speak the truth. Naturally one enjoys a good story or some light fiction. There's nothing wrong with that. Jesus applied fiction to some of His stories. He "invented" many of His parables (or whatever they were). He was a genius craftsman in the art of fiction. He employed it artfully in the expansion of our own horizons. So, no, there is nothing wrong with fiction. As long as it is, of course, kept within the proper bounds.

One Flesh Union

The other day I proposed the idea of a quick marriage to a girl. No, I didn't seriously propose to her. It was more a sort of frank discussion about the matter. It's almost August right now and I said I'd not have too much of a problem with marrying in December. There are, I'll admit, certain impediments and a lot of hard work would have to be put into it all, but I think it could work. Suddenly she looked at me and said, "Wow! You must really want sex."

That stung a little. Guys always have sex on their mind, I'm the first to admit to that. But that doesn't necessarily mean it is the first thing on our mind. Sex was hovering, if at all, towards the back of my mind. It was in a peaceful, rather dormant mode. She was the one that opened that "can of worms." Not me.

Still, it got me to thinking. How many times do we associate sex with marriage? Well, I mean as Christians we kind of have to, there's no choice. But I mean as if that were the sole purpose and nucleus, as such, of marriage. Marriage is a beautiful union which involves so much more than just the union of two bodies. Intimacy is not necessarily intercourse (though it can involve that).

Someone once suggested that becoming "one flesh" (like in the Bible) meant putting the two "fleshes" together. In other words, once a man is inside (literally) a woman, then they have become one flesh. That will explain, in part, why sex out of marriage is so dangerous. In fact, it has been compared to duct tape. The more you stick it on to other people the more it loses its stickyness. The argument is partly rational, for what really makes a marriage?

I mean, think about it. A guy can be friends with a girl and have a lot of "deep talks" and do everything normal married people can do. Except for sex. That is the one prohibition. That is the one forbidden fruit in the garden, or rather jungle, of society. Sex is a sacred thing. Yes, sacred. A marriage union cannot simply be the civil or legal or religious or any other form of contract we have made it out to be. Standing before a judge or a priest or any other person and reciting eloquent words with rich meaning actually means next to nothing. The movie Return to Cold Mountain (remember I do not necessarily endorse every source I use, such is the case with this movie) suggests an ancient ritual which marries a couple together only by the repetition of "I love you" three times. So is sex the union which forms a "one flesh" union?

I think more important than the union formed by a desire for sex is the union formed by commitment. It is a commitment "come rain or come shine" and is made because of love. Once such a commitment is made so is the best sex made. Or so I've heard. And maybe I'm wrong, or maybe there is no sex involved at all. In either case, in any case, it is the happiest possible union. It is a union made in love. Out of love. For love.

Eric Clapton and B. B. King sing, "I'm gonna love you, like nobody's loved you, come rain or come shine. High as a mountain, or as deep as a river, come rain or come shine."