Quote of the Day, 1/21/08

01/21/2008, 7:00 am -- by | No Comments

“I submit that an individual who breaks a law that conscience tells him is unjust and who willingly accepts the penalty of imprisonment in order to arouse the conscience of the community over its injustice, is in reality expressing the highest respect for law.” — M.L. King, Jr.

Why We Believe: Vol. 8

01/20/2008, 12:00 pm -- by | 1 Comment

This and following weekends, we will share the brief salvation testimony of each Bweinh!tributor. Read the previous seven right here.

There was a time in my life when I was living with a woman who was not my wife. I spent half my day crying and screaming in fits of inconsolable rage, drinking between 2 and 3 bottles a day — and then I turned two and moved onto solid foods.

This was how Houghton College’s Dr. Doug Gaerte began his chapel testimony, before a shocked, then hushed, then suddenly relieved student body, as he was one of the most gentle and Christlike professors on campus. He went on to explain that he had avoided giving his testimony before then because he felt, as do I, that his testimony was simply just not interesting enough. Like me, he was born into a Christian family and had been through the blitz of Sunday School and VBS to such a degree that the exact sea change of his soul was hard to pinpoint. And like me, he had to agree that that is a great testimony in and of itself.

But the fact remains that while a Christian heritage breeds a certain lifestyle that can be blessedly cyclical, the giving of one’s soul to Christ is not something that can be done for you. While I had a firm understanding of Jesus, and of grace even, at a tender age, it would take years to wrap my mind around my own salvation. My testimony doesn’t climax with my first altar experience at a camp in Northern Maine when I was 14, or at my baptism, or on a missions trip to Mexico when I was 16. These usual suspects were all pivotal, but they are, by no means, the true meat of my salvation.

As most people who know me somewhat intimately will tell you, I rarely exhibit Christ in any classic manner. I’m argumentative, counter-cultural, judgmental and oftentimes appallingly solo in my use of time, money and talents. I must strike many fellow believers as a builder who laid a real humdinger of a foundation, but seems content to live in a ramshackle lean-to atop it.

My struggles with other Christians and the constructed institution of Christianity is such an oozing scab that some might think a testimony from me — the clay that is apparently still drying — is a bit previous. But when I testify my faith, I feel no need to tell my story, so decidedly unfinished, unglamorous and incongruous. I’d just rather tell the story, as I glow with joy, of Christ’s death and resurrection — and no matter how I grapple with theology and fellowship, I do BELIEVE in it! I believe in the Jesus of the gospels and am never shy or ashamed of that.

For all of my faults, and the clumsy manner in which this testimony continues to grow and fester, I know I have a love for Jesus that will always rally. This hardest of hearts will always rise to the occasion, from no doing of my own but from a deeply seeded faith, as relentless and compulsive as gravity itself. This is Christ in me. This is my story. His story is my story, and I am plotless without Him.

Clash of the Titans LXIV: Star Wars v. Star Trek

01/19/2008, 12:00 am -- by | 6 Comments

In this corner, claiming that Star Wars is best, is Josh!

And in this corner, arguing for the supremacy of Star Trek, is Tom!

To the uneducated eye — otherwise known as people who think fans of any “Star” franchise are just a bunch of dorks — there’s not a lot of difference between Star Trek and Star Wars. But I’m here to tell you, despite the Trek’s mountainous advantage in total number of TV shows and movies, I’ll take quality over quantity. Allow me to take you to a galaxy far, far away…

I guess I should start by admitting that I am far from an expert in Trek matters. But as near as I can tell, Star Trek’s contributions to our world consist of little more than “Beam me up, Scotty,” and the worst fight scene ever.

Star Wars has so much more to offer. They have better characters and better actors (not that it’s that hard to overcome the ongoing intentionally unintentional joke that is William Shatner). There’s the charisma of Han Solo, ably played by Harrison Ford, easily the most successful actor from either franchise. There’s the mystery and wisdom of Obi Wan Kenobi, originally thanks to the legendary Sir Alec Guinness. There’s spunky old Yoda and his beloved verbal patterns, part of a genius partnership with Jim Henson. And of course, there’s the terrifying Darth Vader, with the booming voice of James Earl Jones — consensus choice for the greatest screen villain of all time.

And there’s more to love. Light sabers, for instance. If you try to tell me you’ve never wanted a light saber, you’re lying through your teeth. That goes double for Jedi powers. The entire Star Wars universe is just a more intriguing place to be, which accounts for the massive popularity of the entire line of Star Wars video games that put you right there (Incidentally, I highly recommend Lego Star Wars, Battlefront II, or Knights of the Old Republic, depending on your genre of choice).

The creative genius of George Lucas brings all this to life, with an attention to detail that makes everything more authentic and a superior sound track that makes everything seem more important. So if you’re ready to vote for Star Wars, may the force be with you.

And if you’re not, then this isn’t the clash you’re looking for. Move along.

Space. The final frontier.

If you’re anything like me, when you read those words, you began to hear the haunting strains of a string orchestra begin to swell. In your mind’s ear, each phrase was delivered with the firm, yet understanding tones of a Royal Shakespearean Company-trained actor. And in your heart was awakened a yearning — a yearning to be entertained.

Those four words (for those of you who may not know) are the opening to Star Trek: The Next Generation, the second well-known television series in a series that to date has numbered seven incarnations. Ten films have been spun from the original concept, with an eleventh currently in production. Compare that with a measly three good Star Wars movies, with another few that even die-hard fans loathed. But commercial success can’t be our only basis for comparison. With that in mind, how do Wars and Trek really compare in a number of key areas?

Robots
Star Wars gets points for sheer numbers, but let’s face it: their robots are annoying. Neurotic gold-plated three-dollar C3PO flutters around uselessly, his talents for “interpreting” rendered useless by a voice that engenders a burning hatred in the end-user. Data, on the other hand, is a positronic-brained android of the classic Asimov model, neither annoying nor metallic-looking. Sure, he may not look human, but he wants to be, which is more than you can say for the whirring, beeping R2D2.

Muscle
Chewbacca may be hundreds of years old, but it’s pretty obvious he didn’t spend any of them at the speech therapist. His voice is even worse than C3PO’s, and can only be understood by his “partner” Han Solo. Klingon Worf, son of Mogh, on the other hand, has any number of memorable lines. From “Sir I protest! I am not a merry man!” to “If you were any other man, I would kill you where you stand!,” Worf worked hard, played hard, and enjoyed nothing more than a tall, frosty glass of prune juice. And I’ll wager his conditioner bills were much lower as well.

Character With Big Ears
Leonard Nimoy brought his quiet dignity so obvious in his recording of “The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins” to the role of the ever-logical half-Vulcan Mr. Spock. Who does Star Wars have? Oh, only those three little words every Star Wars fan loves to hear:

Jar Jar Binks.

{democracy:203}

Undecided Voter Craves Attention

01/18/2008, 11:30 am -- by | 1 Comment

–ORANGEBURG, S.C.

Family and friends of local accountant Aaron Johnson, 54, describe him as a quiet, unassuming man, friendly and forgettable.

But then the South Carolina primary came around, and the tax code took a back seat to handshakes and barbecue. Now the mild-mannered number-cruncher is at the center of a fury of political activity — and friends and relatives suggest his motives are less than pure.

“My Aaron didn’t care a lick about politics as a boy, but now I see him on the Fox channel, spinnin’ dials and talkin’ about federalism or some such! I think he just likes the attention,” said Johnson’s mother Dorothy, 79.

“That handsome Mr. McCain is the cat’s pajamas,” added Dorothy’s sister, Ethel Jones, 84.

A review of public records appears to show the sisters’ accusations are true. Johnson’s pattern of vacillation apparently started at Orangesburg-Wilkinson High, where he refused to express a preference between Mary “Iron Legs” Carter and Elizabeth “Purty Grits” Burleson in the hotly contested 1971 race for prom queen, leading to a series of “private caucuses” with the candidates, hosted in the office of Sam, the one-eyed janitor.

Since registering to vote, Johnson has expressed little interest in current events, apart from brief periods every four years, when his unwillingness to commit to public support of any candidate makes him, for a time, the most sought-after man in all the Midlands.

Many South Carolinians seem annoyed by Johnson’s continued neutrality.

“The only reason I can see that someone wouldn’t know who to vote for is they was either stupid or dead,” said Frank Brady of Columbia. “They all been on the TV for months now, I reckon. I know Fred Thompson had me back in November, when I first heared him say, ‘Heeeeeeeeeelllllllllll—lllloooooooooo.’ ”

“I don’t even think A.J. votes,” offered his pastor, Apostle Sammy Smith of Grace Cathedral Christian Fellowship in Sumter. “Back in 2000, I seen him go from pollin’ place to pollin’ place, just chattin’ up the volunteers on the outside, pickin’ up T-shirts and fresh barbeque at every turn.”

Smith held his head in his hands and whistled softly. “Boy’s a wolf in cheap clothing.”

Attempts to reach Johnson at his home were made difficult by the crush of candidates and their aides pressed against his back fence, many shouting promises and offering gifts if he would “join the team” — although reports that he was offered the vice-presidency by Mike Huckabee remain unconfirmed at this time.

Reached by phone, Johnson stated, “I would love to refute these lowdown dirty lies, but I’ve gotta go — there’s a mole on my back I need Dr. Paul to look at, and then Mitt’s gonna stop by and help me paint my shed.”

Joke of the Day, 1/18/08

01/18/2008, 7:00 am -- by | No Comments

A woman went into the dentist’s office and said, “I think I’d just as soon have a baby as get my tooth pulled.”

The dentist replied, “Make up your mind — I’ll have to adjust the chair.”

Here’s Another Story About The Invisible Mice

01/17/2008, 10:30 am -- by | 5 Comments

My daughter loaned me The Ringing Bell a while back, the new Derek Webb CD, and after listening to it 30 times or so, I’m ready to review it.

It has everything that makes me both love and hate his newer music — great messages when you can decipher them, but lacking the fantastic vocals and rich varied musical sound that I used to love when he was with Caedmon’s Call. For starters, ever since he was criticized for using language that some find offensive in Christian music on a previous CD, Derek no longer prints his lyrics with his CDs, so it’s a bit of a guessing game.

The lead song, The End, starts out something like:

Here’s another story about the invisible mice
The elephant in the room jumping in the light
I so hate hesitating voices in the night
Here’s another story about the invisible wives

I know elephants are afraid of mice, and I have seen an elephant jump into a chandelier to escape a mouse on a cartoon once, but I don’t understand the invisible thing, or why possibly the farmer’s wives from 3 Blind Mice would get involved, and be invisible, unless it has to do with the fact that the mice are blind and can’t see the wives.

It’s pretty confusing.

After a dozen more times through, I thought it might say this instead:

Here’s another story about the invisible knights (KKK?)
The elephant in the room (taboo subject?) jumping in these lights (making headlines?)
Slow hate, hesitating voices in the night
Here’s another story about the invisible whites

If so, perhaps the song is about racism, but I guess we’ll never know until the song is deciphered.

What I do love about his music is the political stands:

Savior on Capital Hill is a biting commentary on our delusion that somehow selecting the right politician in an election is going to make things right for the Church. I love it. It ends with the line:

So don’t hold your breath or your vote until
you think you’ve finally found a savior up on Capital Hill.

I like Huckabee, but God doesn’t need him to win an election to further the Kingdom. They are two separate things.

Name is another great one.

They call you right
they call you left
they call you names of all your friends:
Baby don’t let ’em
don’t let ’em put a name on you!

My sentiments exactly.

There’s no categories just long stories waiting to be told
Don’t be satisfied when people sum you up with just one word.

I belong to no one but Christ and my allegiance answers only to Him.

This Too Shall Be Made Right is another song that explores some of the inequities that will be set right eventually when Jesus returns, as well as looking at our guilt on some of those issues.

Most of the rest of the CD was bland and unattractive to me, but the way the first song (The End) dovetails into the second (The Very End), switching to a beautiful orchestral piece featuring violins is beautiful and worth listening to.

Yeah, so there you have it.

Quote of the Day, 1/17/08

01/17/2008, 7:00 am -- by | 1 Comment

“I think it’s a privilege to call yourself a Scientologist, and it’s something that you have to earn, because a Scientologist does. He, or she, has the ability to create new and better realities and improve conditions. Uh, being a Scientologist, you look at someone and you know absolutely that you can help them . . . Being a Scientologist, when you drive past an accident, it’s not like anyone else. As you drive past, you know you have to do something about it, because you know you’re the only one who can really help . . . We are the authorities on getting people off drugs, we are the authorities on the mind . . . we are the way to happiness. We can bring peace and unite cultures . . . “ — T. Cruise

Watch the crazy man here! My ‘favorite’ part is his crazy-man crazy laughter with 5 minutes to go, talking about SPs, or ‘suppressive people.’

I Love Chick Tracts!

01/17/2008, 2:00 am -- by | No Comments


 

©1984-2008 Chick Publications, Inc. Reprinted without permission as fair use (parody).

{democracy:202}

Battle of the Bands XLI

01/16/2008, 1:00 pm -- by | No Comments

Here are the next batch of band names from Luke (Children of Rock moves on, along with Quirinius and In the Deserts)!

{democracy:201}

Bible Discussion — Luke 4

01/16/2008, 12:00 pm -- by | No Comments

This week, Bweinh.com looks at the next chapter of Luke, Luke 4.

Genesis: 1-4 | 5-9 | 10-14 | 15-18 | 19-22 | 23-26
27-29 | 30-32 | 33-36 | 37-39 | 40-43 | 44-46 | 47-50
Exodus: 1-4 | 5-8 | 9-11 | 12-14 | 15-18
19-22 | 23-26 | 27-30 | 31-34 | 35-40
Romans: Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 (I)
Ch. 8 (II) | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 | Ch. 15-16
Luke: 1:1-38 | 1:39-2:40 | 2:41-3:38

 
INTRODUCTION:
David:
John lists three things that drive the flesh: the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life. Eve exhibited all three in man’s fall, finding the fruit good for food, pleasant to look upon, and desired to make one wise.

Jesus too faced all three in the wilderness: hunger, the glimmering apparition of all the world’s glory, and a challenge to his pride that began with, “If you really are the son of God:” Our fall is completely reversed in what Jesus faces to start off this chapter.

MC-B:
In this whirlwind passage, Jesus meets the Devil, becomes famous, heals the sick, and declares Himself to be the fulfillment of the prophesies of the Old Testament.

 
SOMETHING YOU’D NEVER NOTICED BEFORE:
MC-B:
I missed Jesus’ explanation of how no prophet is accepted in His hometown, probably because when I’ve heard this chapter covered in the past, the focus has been on Jesus’ reading from Isaiah.

Connie:
How much deliverance Jesus did at the start of His ministry. Initially it just mentions that He teaches, but when it comes to hands-on ministry, he deals the most with deliverance — because tormented people cannot listen/hear.

Josh:
I’d never paid much attention to the story of Jesus in the synagogue. I just imagine what it would be like today for someone to stroll into my church, pick up a Bible and read it aloud, then basically say, “Yep, that’s me.”

Steve:
I never really thought about how Jesus escaped from the crowd who wanted to kill Him in verse 30. Wouldn’t it be interesting if He just snuck out somehow, hiding behind some fat guy or something? I know that He could have transported Himself elsewhere, blinded His foes, or jumped off the cliff and flown away, but wouldn’t it be more in fitting with His character to just humbly sneak away?

 
BEST BAND NAME FROM THE PASSAGE:
David: Brokenhearted
Steve: High Fever
Josh: Hometown Prophets, Screamin’ Demons
MC-B: Highest Point
Connie: Simon’s Mother-in-Law

Continued here!

Joke of the Day, 1/16/08

01/16/2008, 7:00 am -- by | No Comments

A farmboy accidentally overturned his wagon of corn in a ditch. The farmer who lived nearby heard the ruckus, and yelled over to the boy, “Hey, forget your troubles! Come in and have dinner, and then I’ll help you get the wagon out.”

“That’s mighty nice of you,” the boy answered, “but I don’t think Pa would like me to.”

“Nah, come on in,” the farmer insisted.

Finally, the boy agreed. “Okay, I’ll come over, but I’m telling you Pa won’t like it!”

After a hearty dinner, the boy thanked his host. “I feel much better now, but I know Pa’s gonna be real upset.”

“I’m sure he’ll understand,” the neighbor said with a smile. “By the way, where is he?”

“Under the wagon.”

Arthritis

01/15/2008, 3:00 pm -- by | 3 Comments

I remember from hours upon hours of studying for those Scripps-Howard Spelling Bees in middle school (yes, I was a hardcore speller) that the word arthritis was technically a compound word. “Artho-“, I learned, was Greek and had something to do with the joints of a vertebrate animal. “-itis”, as a suffix, meant some kind of problem, sickness or malady. Put them together and you have the reason your aunts, uncles, grandparents, and other lovable elders complain that they can “feel the weather changing in their bones.” We get old — so do all the nuts and bolts that hold us together.

But the reason arthritis has been in my head lately is not because of the (utterly amazing!) elderly people at my church either here or at home, nor is it because of too much time spent with my grandparents, hearing their complaints. I’ve been thinking about it today because my knuckles are quite sore, and I know that I don’t have arthritis.

Why should you care about this? Well, perhaps you can identify with my situation. In the last few hours, I have typed probably close to fifty emails, reminders, and schedule changes. I have taken down agendas, written to-do lists for myself and for others, taken notes, and begun to (electronically) organize events. And so, in a very melodramatic (and typical, my friends will tell you) fashion, I resort to hyperbole (“I feel like I’ve got arthritis!“) to voice my complaint at the hectic pace into which I seem to be descending.

I wonder why so many of us (perhaps not just at Houghton, as a great part of Bweinh’s readership has never visited the bloody — er, blessed — place) feel the need to keep up this pace. Now, God has indeed given us gifts of time management, organization, passion, opportunity, and guidance to keep us sane through the insane times. God continually shows me that when I seem to be at my lowest, my busiest, my most dead-from-exhaustion, that is when GOD, not I, is glorified.

All that taken as it is, and it is truth, can it really be good for us, in the service of our Master, to fill our plates to overflowing? From the one to whom much is given, much is required…so also God can (and does) give us the ability to know how much we can handle — it’s part of His reaffirming love and support.

So although I must conclude this post by apologizing for the misleading title (those of you who expected a thrilling psychosocial, or even biological, discourse on arthritis, your disappointment is my fault alone), I hope that if, in the next few days, your knuckles are sore from the drudgery of work, you will inhabit some time asking God for wisdom and discernment with your busy schedule. And then put that wisdom and discernment to use.

Best of Bweinh! — Metric/Imperial Clash

01/15/2008, 11:30 am -- by | No Comments

Originally printed on April 17, 2007!

In this corner, supporting the metric system, is Tom!

And in this corner, supporting the imperial system, is Mike!

As a people, Americans have always paid our collective independence more than its share of lip service. We claim to be a land of freedom, say we have thrown off the bonds of tyranny that yoked our nation in her infancy, and present ourselves to the world as a paragon of liberty. Yet we persist in using a system of weights and measures based not on any semblance of sense, but on the whims and physical characteristics of the despotic few who governed the monarchies of antiquity.

The standard system ruled the roost of world business for centuries, growing comfortably fat off the toil of our brows and calculating machines. Wide rolls of strange numerical conversions began to hang from its jowls as it glutted itself at the table of commerce. Was this monster decimal? Octal? Dodecahedral? Who could afford to question? Time was better spent trying to determine the number of ounces in a hogshead, or inches in a furlong. But a new wind was about to blow.

Amid the tumult of the last time the French showed any collective semblance of bravery, a few daring souls decided to forge a universal system of measure. Rather than the length of a king’s thumb, or the volume of your average sheep bladder, they selected a length they would use for a base, a length of the people. The world was changing! The king was dead; he could no longer force the people to memorize numbers like 12, 16, 1160, or 5280! Instead, they counted their fingers, counted their toes, averaged the result and arrived at the number 10. That’s right, the same number upon which our entire system of numbers is based.

Not only can you convert between a nanometer and a kilometer just by moving a decimal place, you can even move between two and three dimensions without straining. Without measuring someone’s anatomy. Without consulting a council of bearded elders, table of ciphers or magician’s grimoire. When was the last time a child was able to proudly tell his teacher the number of cubic inches in a gallon? But any precocious tot can be instructed that a thousand independent little cubic centimeters together become a proud, powerful liter.

In a time of increasing foreign tension, should we really be raising the next generation to measure the world in a way foreign to the others who call it home? Is it worth enduring the confusion and inconsistency of the standard system, just so our grandchildren will measure their ice cream in the manner of our fathers? Just look into your heart, and count your toes.

I think you’ll find they hold the answer.

I pastor a church in a threatened part of the world. Chester County, Pennsylvania, just east of Lancaster, is a county of rolling hills and mushroom farms, and is a traditional home to horse trainers. You can still pass an idyllic Saturday in the southern part of the county watching the county as it used to be.

But the town where I pastor, Exton, has long been under threat. Every chain restaurant in the world, it seems, has moved in. I live about twenty minutes away, in Coatesville; a mere ten-minute drive from our church or home could take you to five McDonald’s, three Wendy’s, two Friendly’s, three Applebee’s, and countless other familiar restaurants that have conspired to all but destroy local cuisine.

We don’t need more themed chain restaurants beating the individuality out of us, and we sure don’t need a metric system forcing us all into a mold, even if it is a perfectly square, perfectly sensible, extremely user-friendly mold.

Do you really prefer the meter to the yard? We know how the meter came into being: it was a product of the “pure reason” so popular (and so stunningly bloody) in the French Revolution. Indeed, in 1799, the French stored away the originals of the meter and the other metric units, adorning the metric system with the motto, “For all men, for all time.”

On the contrary, we don’t know precisely where the yard comes from, only that its origin lies in charmed tradition. The girth of a person’s waist? The distance from Henry VIII’s nose to the tip of his outstretched thumb? No one knows for sure–all we know is that it’s a much better story than a bunch of progress-minded revolutionaries laying off the bloodshed long enough to standardize something random, then attempting to force the rest of the world to use it.

And they have tried to force the metric system. Don’t believe me? Ask the “Metric Martyrs,” a group of five English grocers who were fined for failing to measure their produce in metric units. Ask any Canadian you want. Their government went to the trouble of creating a logo to demonstrate their allegiance to metric’s new world order, pushing imperial users into underground quietness. Like Narnians, they must patiently await their chance to again enjoy their nation as it used to be.

So, go ahead, vote for the metric system. And while you’re homogenizing the world, would you also cast a ballot for eradicating local accents, closing the family-owned hardware store, and creating a list of state-approved songs for worship?

Thanks so much.

{democracy:23}

Quote of the Day, 1/15/08

01/15/2008, 7:00 am -- by | No Comments

“I am not attempting to be exonerated because I meet your standard of reasonableness, because first of all I don’t care what your standard of reasonableness is . . . I don’t grant you at all the right to sit in judgment of whether or not I’m reasonable. I’ll grant that to my advertisers, I’ll grant that to my readers, I’ll grant that to friends and people in the social society who may marginalize me or shun me if I’m too rude . . . I will suffer the penalties of civil society, I will suffer the marginalization of polite company . . . I will suffer that from my fellow man voluntarily, but I do not grant to you or any other instrument of the state the right to tell me whether or not I am reasonable enough to pass your test.”E. Levant

The Council’s Ruling — State to Sell

01/14/2008, 12:00 pm -- by | No Comments

This and every 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 — If we had to sell a state to pay off the national debt, which should it be?

Steve delivers the ruling of the Council, joined by Chloe, Tom, David, and Djere:

Hawaii — it’d fetch a tremendous price, it wouldn’t give a foreign nation a foothold on our mainland, and it lacks Alaska’s tremendous resources.

 

Erin dissents, joined by Mike:

The entire Eastern Seaboard. It would bring the most yield and be least missed.

 

Connie dissents:

Arkansas — because they must be held responsible.

 

MC-B dissents:

California. Riddled with earthquakes and hippies, getting rid of it can only due us good. We’ll move Silicon Valley somewhere else.

 

Josh and Job played no part in the determination of this issue.

Next time: Which kitchen appliance, besides the fridge, do we appreciate the most?

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