Rain in the Desert
It’s raining, the first raindrops to fall on Las Cruces since October, and all I can think is, Praise God. The rain mesmerizes me as the sun peeks from behind black clouds to turn the beads into the precious jewels they are to us.
Las Cruces has been in a drought for nigh on ten years now. I have walked across the great Rio Grande with my bare toes and heels sinking into the hot sand, reluctantly conquering that once proud and powerful course. I have watched each summer as Elephant Butte, our last resort, grows smaller and smaller while the islands in the middle grow taller and taller.
Is there hope for our scorched land, hope apart from the fickle sky and erratic wind? We could say that we find hope in our farmers, who will pump their wells dry and dig again to sustain crops of cotton and chilé, corn and tomatoes. We can find hope in those surreptitious reserves underground that feed our fading trees and pesky mosquitoes alike. We find hope in Colorado’s rainy weather, snowy weather, and anything else that may produce a runoff into the Rio Grande’s branches and sources. We may even find hope in the news that the ice caps are melting, because that means more water for everyone, and perhaps we’ll finally be allowed to scrub the dust off ourselves when the waters come roaring in from what used to be California and Arizona.
Just as quickly as it began, the rain now stops, and the droplets gleaming on my window are fast in drying, leaving only spots of dust in their stead. And yet the strikingly blue New Mexican sky is still obscured by those black and promising clouds.
The whole of the Mesilla Valley heaves a sigh and leaves the porch chairs set out specially to watch the rain color a brown and yellow landscape green. Not today, the wind sighs, reforming and dispersing the clouds. Not today. And the people turn away, removing hats with brittle hands to wipe away the sweat.
Will we find relief? Or will we dry up and turn to dust to be thrown by the idle winds to the north, where rain falls to the point of people’s loathing and grass is green in the summer? Or will we, perhaps, continue to live as we’ve always lived, skimping here and there with the dishes and the showers, saving water in landscaping and laundry alike? We have persevered thus far, proven that water is not as vital as we were told. Some of us have lived our whole lives covered in dust, wondering in awe at the rain, and some of us have grown thirsty for our old emerald fields of England or Ireland, where even the bark of the trees is green. But all of us have learned to sacrifice our fascination with water to the sun god, all of us have learned to accept — yes, even enjoy — the hot wind and the grit in our teeth.
We are tough like that, tough like dried meat and leather, tough like rock and bone, tough like the dry, dry river bed. Our water lies deep beneath all that, just as the desert’s water conceals itself beneath a cactus’ needles or a camel’s hump.
And we can live for a millennium like this. We already have.
Battle of the Bands VIII
Here are our latest band names! The top two will advance, this Saturday.
Bible Discussion: Genesis 30-32
This week, Bweinh.com looks at the next three chapters of the Bible, Genesis 30-32.
Previous discussions from Genesis: 1-4 | 5-9 | 10-14 | 15-18 | 19-22 | 23-26 | 27-29
INTRODUCTION:
Rev. Joel:
Hi, I’m Rev. Joel Tom Tate, former RD of Shenawana Hall. Since I’m the pastor of the North Chittenden WESLEYAN church in North Chittenden, Vermont, you can consider yourself strangely informed.
The only profitable way to read this passage is with humility. If you read it as though it was written by and for primitive people you will find yourself resisting the obvious meaning and implications of the text.
Steve:
It’s hard for me to understand the female characters of Genesis, because I can’t possibly grasp how vitally important it was — for status and survival — for them to bear male children. Cattiness, competition, fighting over a man — all that I can grasp without any problem. But Rachel’s rage and desperation, not just at being outdone by her sister, but at failing at what was then the primary task of a woman, is very foreign.
Mike:
Jacob wrestles with those who would deceive him and those who would bless him.
SOMETHING YOU’D NEVER NOTICED BEFORE:
Job:
The Scripture says, “And Jacob deceived Laban the Aramean by not telling him that he was fleeing.” Jacob had made deceit his own little Canaanite cottage industry, and while credit needs to be given to Moses for never painting any of the patriarchs in too good a light, it is interesting that in this verse (and this verse alone) the writer of Genesis gently reminds us that, hey, it was just an Aramean getting deceived, not a member of the chosen tribe.
David:
“And God remembered Rachel…” I have memories of myself spying the clock at work and realizing, “Agh! I forgot to pick Rachel (my daughter) up from school!” I’m sure it really wasn’t like that for God here, although it may have felt that way to Rachel.
Mike:
Bilhah bore a son as a surrogate for Rachel, and it was referred to as “bearing upon [Rachel’s] knees.” Apparently, the adoptive mother caught the baby so that from moment one, the child would imprint with the adoptive mother. How beautiful for Rachel — how difficult for Bilhah!
Josh:
I’m somewhat surprised it took Laban an entire week to catch Jacob. Jacob only had a 2-3 day head start, and all his possessions, women, children, and animals to keep track of. Jacob must have really been pushing his crew to get away.
Rev. Joel:
Jacob was the first gigolo, his sexual services being purchased with a bunch of roots.
Tom:
Rachel used her “moon time” to get away with something. It might have been the first time, but it would not be the last.
Steve:
Jacob refers to God as the “God of [his] father, the God of Abraham and the Fear of Isaac.” The “Fear of Isaac” is an interesting way to identify God, especially if we remember that little story about Abraham, Isaac and the sacrifice.
Joke of the Day, 4/25/07
What’s grey?
A melted penguin.
Sound Bite The Hand That Feeds You
I was asked if I believed in zombies. I said I believed in a zombie. “A zombie,” he asked, making sure he heard me right.
“Yes. A zombie. Jesus Christ. Rose from the dead, made people run around like crazy — consumed my brain…”
There are no Lewis and Clark Christians in America, cresting the hills of society to find vast, untouched swaths of souls in their path, souls that have never heard the name “Jesus.” That’s a pedigree of believer belonging to a generation far removed from us. This nation has heard the name of Jesus. This is no unsuspecting (albeit hostile) Rome, but rather a savvy people, inoculated and well-trained in the arts of misdirection. They’ve learned the lesson of time — to eliminate our kind, it’s easier to pacify than crucify. They’ve massaged from our ranks those most eager and vocal to neuter the gospel to match the desires of humanity, making salvation relative through a complicated yet starved process that reduces it to a series of dismissable sound bites. Our Christian algebra calculates with such fabulous fury that eventually the equation has become more revered than the sum.
But ah, this generation of Christianity. This whittled down, precious handful. Brothers, sisters — our cause is before us. To re-Rome these people, to erase this painting of Jesus from their memories, to make Christ crucified as organic an idea as it was in 34 AD. We are not the emerging church, the seeker-sensitive, purpose-driven or mainline church. We are just the Church. The Bride with an impending Groom.
We need to re-Rome these people.
Clash of the Titans XVI: Ireland v. Scotland
| In this corner, for the honor of Ireland, is Josh! | And in this corner, for love of Scotland, is Djere! | |
|
“The trouble with Scotland is that it’s full of Scots.” – Edward Longshanks, Braveheart I don’t have anything against the Scots. Really, I don’t. In fact, I’m part Scottish myself. But when considering their contributions to society, all that comes to mind are dudes wearing skirts and bagpipe “music.” The former is indefensible, while the latter is actually a thing of beauty when done well. Of course, too often it’s not done well, and it sounds like a cow in the fourth hour of labor. And so I proudly embrace my Irish heritage. First off, there are few things in this world more useful than being able to say “Kiss me, I’m Irish!” I’ve never actually had occasion to use it, but it’s still a great ace in the hole if necessary. Ireland has given us the Blarney Stone, perhaps the greatest trick ever played on tourists. We have Ireland to thank for leprechauns, sitting at the end of rainbows guarding their bowls of Lucky Charms. And you have to love St. Patrick’s Day, where millions of non-Irish still choose to wear green in tribute. In third grade, my teacher took a large chunk of St Patrick’s Day to teach us charming Irish tunes. I still remember Molly Malone and another one about McGuiness and McCarthy: Oh, McGuiness was dead That’s just good clean fun, and one of the few things I remember learning, so many years later. So I’m proud to have the luck of the Irish. They say it’s better to be lucky than good, but we Irish don’t have to choose. |
It’s a real pity that when St. Patrick drove the snakes from Ireland, he left behind a country full of rats. You can keep your cesspool of religious and political instability; I’ll take Scotland. I’ll be brief so the Irish can keep up. –Scots are tougher– –Scots are smarter– St. Patrick’s Day is overrated. Every time March rolls around, you hear the same thing from every frat boy you meet. “What’s the matter, buddy? Everybody’s Irish on St. Patrick’s Day!! Whooo!” Wrong. I know you’re searching for identity, little fratling, but I already found mine, and it’s much better than beer pong, shamrocks and leprechauns. Not everyone is Irish on St. Patrick’s Day, not even St. Patrick! The Irish had to kidnap him! Frankly, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if the mark of the beast were a clover. P.S. — As there is no Jew or Greek in Christ, so there is no Scot nor Irish. :-D |
Award Update
We’re now in 29th place with 40 votes. Of the 28 blogs in front of us, one is atheist, one is Episcopal, one is Anglican, and the other 25 are Catholic. So we’re in third place for Best Protestant Religious Blog!
Westboro Baptist Church — Live Report
National radio host Mike Gallagher traded three hours of his airtime today for a promise that the Westboro Baptist Church would not protest the funerals of the 32 victims of the Virginia Tech shooting. I got up early (for me) to listen to the show live, on a station in Tennessee, and below I will be reporting on it, updated at least on each commercial break.
I recognize that you may not be interested in reading anything about this organization, so you must click through to the next page to read this summary. Refresh it often if you’re interested in keeping up.
Quote of the Day, 4/24/07
“Every man sees in his relatives . . . a series of grotesque caricatures of himself.” – H.L. Mencken
Satan Convinces Man To Eat ‘Do Not Eat’ Packet
In an effort to prove “he’s still got it,” noted prince of darkness Satan successfully tricked Milwaukee resident Gordon Ortiz into eating the packet of silica gel, clearly marked “Do Not Eat,” included in his bag of teriyaki-flavored beef jerky this week.
“But it says ‘Do Not Eat’ right on it,” Ortiz timidly responded to Satan’s repeated efforts to get the street sweeper to consume the inedible desiccant. “The company that produced this product has said I can eat any delcious morsel within this convenient resealable bag, except for those within this packet explicitly marked ‘Do Not Eat.’ I’d better not!”
“Don’t you see?” Satan responded, cajolingly. “That’s because if you eat it, you’ll never be hungry again! You will be equal with the jerky executives, who can eat all the jerky they want!”
“Wow, never hungry again?,” Ortiz thought to himself. “That’d be really great, what with gas prices and all — but what if it makes me sterile?”
“We can blame it on your wife,” Satan assured him.
The Council’s Ruling — Sasquatch
This and every following Monday, the Bweinh!tributors, having convened in secret for hours of reasoned debate and consideration, will issue a brief and binding ruling on an issue of great societal import.
This week’s question — Does Sasquatch exist?
Steve delivers the ruling of the council, joined by Mike, Tom, Job and David:
In a world where satellites scour every inch of the earth and most people carry around camera phones, the lack of ANY strong evidence for Sasquatch is telling.
Josh, in dissent, joined by Chloe and MC-B:
The Sasquatch exists in the hearts of all those who enjoy a good camp prank.
Djere took no part in the determination of this issue.
Next week: the nation’s most dangerous drug!
Ask Bweinh! Poll — Least Favorite States
Hi and welcome to the Ask Bweinh! poll, brought to you — as always — by your friendly neighbors at the Standard Oil Corporation, who’ve been putting small independent companies out of business since 1870.
| Rank | State | Points | ||
| 1. | Massachusetts | 19 | ||
| 2-3 (tie) | New Jersey, California | 9 | ||
| 4. | Ohio | 8 | ||
| 5-6 (tie) | Arkansas, Nevada | 7 | ||
| 7-8 (tie) | Florida, Colorado | 5 | ||
| 9-13 (tie) | District of Columbia, Connecticut, Pennsylvania, Alabama, Kentucky | 4 | ||
| Other | Texas, Michigan, Nebraska, Utah, New Hampshire, Arizona, Indiana, Delaware, Confusion | 1-3 |
The Clamp
Here is something I came across in my reading for school this week.
The clamp in which evangelical Christianity perpetually finds itself is that it simultaneously wants to define itself over against modern culture and yet be convincing or persuasive with respect to that culture.
~ Graham Hughes, Worship as Meaning
Hughes does not write as an evangelical Christian, but I think he lays a finger on the evangelical dilemma and perhaps the reason for so much evangelical ennui.
On the one hand, we reject much of modern culture. We decry it as hedonistic or relativistic or insufficiently grounded. Yet, on the other hand, we are the masters at imitating that culture and twisting it to other ends.
So we can go to our local Christian bookstore and find a chart that says, “If you like U2, you might like (insert flavor-of-the-week band here).” Or we can stress the ease with which a person becomes a Christian, saying, “You’re still the same person; it’s just, you know, you have Jesus now.” Or we can create thoroughly consumerist modern Christian churches which offer all the music and good coffee you could want, so long as you’re willing to accept the Gospel as part of the bundle.
I have to admit that I am both fascinated and repelled by our ability to use culture so well. It demonstrates a certain flexibility and resourcefulness that is commendable.
Yet I wonder if it does not cost us. In our desire to make the gospel so accessible, we often play up its similarity to modern culture. Yet it makes the next, vital step of Christian discipleship extremely difficult, perhaps impossible. That next step is being able to self-differentiate from modern culture, asking critical questions of it. How does the modern way of living bring Christlikeness, bring true life? How does the modern way of life bring death and distance between us and Christ? Sadly, we know that there are too few ways modern culture brings life, and too many where it brings death. Mature Christians have to be capable of detecting and avoiding that which is dangerous in the culture around us.
But because we are so wedded to the similarities between our churches and modern culture, all too often our churches (clergy included) are ill-equipped to help people navigate these waters.
Perhaps our church music and architecture and our very ways of evangelism and living should not seek to impress the world with how much like the world we are, but how very different we are.
Joke of the Day, 4/23/07
How many poets does it take to change a lightbulb?
Two. One to look at the bulb and think of his mother, and one to stand at the window and watch the rain.
Bweinh! Soundtrack — Crash Test Dummies
Every weekend, a different Bweinh!tributor will discuss a song or songwriter that inspires or interests them. Read the first three soundtrack entries here, here, and here.
Growing up, my parents discouraged listening to secular music, concerned about the influence of the negative themes so prevalent in the genre. There wasn’t any radio play in our house, and I didn’t own my first album until I was sixteen. That was the year my best friend lived with us, and he convinced my brother and me that the three of us should join Columbia House together. We could each get three free albums up front, and then each be on the hook for one additional album in the future.
I knew next to nothing about music at the time, and simply picked groups that produced one song I remembered liking. Through this blind dart throwing, I ended up with a cassette that would help shape my taste in musical style, vocal quality, and lyrical ingenuity. In fact, I ended up with one of the best albums you’ve probably never heard — God Shuffled His Feet by the Crash Test Dummies.
You may remember their one hit, “Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm.” At the time, this song led me to believe that, if nothing else, they were a safe choice with no swearing or explicit content. And there was just something about them that caught my interest.
Their lead singer has an incredibly unique voice, so unusually deep that a few years later Steve theorized that perhaps the reason they never had another hit was that he had died of lung cancer. Although there was lyrical support for this theory (“How come I just smoke and smoke and smoke, and curse every butt I spit out?” ; “I’ve had my lungs checked out with X-rays” ; “Maybe I can change the test results that I will get back”), it was decidedly untrue. His voice was unlike anything else I’d heard, captivating, resonating, and decidedly non-pop.
The music relies heavily on acoustic guitar and piano (two of my favorites), and alternates between haunting and happy, with a sound all its own. But what sets the album apart the most are the lyrics. Sometimes they were just plain goofy, but ultimately, this was an album that made me think, that made me question. They covered everything from the pretentiousness of art (“Which should be my favorite paintings?”) to unexpectedly running into an ex (“Like catching a sniff of tequila in the morning, but I’ll try — try to keep my food down”) to psychics (“Would she keep it secret if death stood before me?”).
While they’re clearly not a Christian band, several lyrics suggest a level of Biblical knowledge. My favorite example is the title track, a twist on the creation story. While not meant to be consistent with the Biblical account (God creates blankets and sits in the shade having a picnic with his newly created people), there are many other allusions. At one point the people question God: “If your eye got poked out in this life, would it be waiting up in heaven with your wife?” This reminds me of the Pharisees questioning Jesus about a woman who married several brothers who all died, trying to trick Him. In the song, after God answers the question with an unrelated story, the people still don’t understand, asking, “Was that a parable or a very subtle joke?” The band continues this struggle to understand in a more serious vein in other songs with lyrics like, “Why does God cause things like tornadoes and train wrecks?,” and “When everything seems nicely planned out, well the human race will come and smack your face.”
With this last sentiment I actually couldn’t agree more. We as humans have done a great job messing up the world. Like the Crash Test Dummies, this often leaves me with lots of questions and uncertainty. But this album has also reminded me how glad I am that even when I don’t have all the answers, I know the one who does.
I know the Truth.
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- Battle of the Bands LXXXIV
- Bible Discussion — Ephesians 5-6
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- Quote of the Day, 2/25/09
- One Hundred Words (48)
- Quote of the Day, 2/23/09
- Battle of the Bands LXXXIII
- Bible Discussion — Ephesians 3-4
- That’s Some Great Police Work
- One Hundred Words (47)
- Quote of the Day, 2/20/09
- Fortune and Judgment
- One Hundred Words (46)
- Quote of the Day, 2/18/09
- Three Links (Vol. 19)
- The Council’s Ruling — Worst Year
- One Hundred Words (45)
- Quote of the Day, 2/16/09
- Bad Marketing
- Quote of the Day, 2/13/09
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