Response to an Atheist

08/15/2008, 2:00 pm -- by | No Comments

From a letter to my newspaper’s editor this week.

Listening to an atheist comment on the Bible is like having an illiterate man read you the evening newspaper; there may be some imagery he can grasp through the photographs, but the mass of content and nuance is certainly lost on him, and will only lead him into erroneous inferences about the meaning. The Bible is a spiritual book, and makes the case itself that it can only be rightly understood by those who have received God’s Spirit through their faith in Jesus Christ and His atoning sacrifice.

The latest atheist to comment on the Bible here in the newspaper argued that the Bible is not a fit source for morality because so many Bible characters exhibited immoral behavior in their lives. The erroneous assumption here is that Bible characters were superhuman beings, designed to model perfection for the human race. They were not. They were human beings who, like any Christian today, were meant to model grace, mercy and redemption to the world.

If God had seen fit to whitewash the lives of the saints depicted in Scripture, He could have done so, but where would our hope be? Our hope is in the fact that a sinful person can be reconciled to God through his Son, then participate with Him in the great work of redeeming lost souls. The Bible is the right source of morality for the human race because God has deigned it to be so, not because we, as human beings, have found that it fits our idea of morality.

Clash of the Titans LXXXVII: Unions

08/15/2008, 11:30 am -- by | No Comments

In this corner, defending unions, is Erin!

 And in this corner, opposing them, is David!

Unions are not the answer to everything, this I readily concede. Often, the face of a union is its representative to the union members, and the encounters with such representatives go something like this:

Enter a discontent, overweight (and overpaid) union representative to Place of Work. She has come to announce a change in appeals policy to union members at said Place of Work.

Lights come up, fluorescent and harsh.

Union rep: Blah blah blah, blah blah, change change, blah blah blah.

Narrator: What she\’s basically saying is, “Work, you poor saps, because by paying your dues, you get security you can\’t get on your own.”

Yes, many would say that unions do little more than whine for better pay, better conditions, and (often in my area) for the political casting-out-to-where-there-will-be-weeping-and-gnashing-of-teeth of any and all Republicans.

I ask only that the reader would consider for the moment the things that unions still do. They offer an alternative to an expensive (and truthfully, often wasted) college education, instead providing marketable skills, the model of a good work ethic, and a group of people who not only lobby for their needs, but also form a community.

I have seen teachers\’ unions work to get better books for their students and keep their jobs (taking pay cuts to do it); I have seen electricians’ unions work to ensure higher safety standards on industrial and residential jobs (would you like to have someone electrocuted while they install the power lines for your future plasma TV?); I have seen pipefitters’ unions work against the flow of dying industry to keep jobs within an 800-mile radius of their homes, in an effort not to have to resort to taking jobs in California, Alaska, or Iraq.

This summer I attended a union picnic, where I was introduced to at least two dozen men and women I probably will not meet again nor remember very long. But what stuck with me was the overwhelming sense that these people were there for each other: on the worksite and in each other\’s lives. And if that means nothing, yes, I guess unions are out of date.

“To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.” — Ecclesiastes 3:1

There was a time when this nation needed unions, when they served an important purpose, protecting the poor. Women, children and immigrants were all exploited by employers with no compassion and virtually no government oversight. Children as young as eight or nine slaved away in factories, 16 hours at a time, for poor pay in unsafe conditions. Immigrants were forced to live in ramshackle housing, with exorbitant charges deducted from their meager pay to cover the cost of their food and housing — rendering them little more than slaves.

Those days are gone, yet the unions remain.

It reminds me of the story of the Chinese emperor who invited Mongols into his country to help vanquish foes from the South — only to find that when the war ended, the Mongols chose to settle down and stay, exacting their own methods of exploitation to lighten the purses of the Chinese people. Sometimes the cure brings with it the seeds of the next disease.

I don\’t know many people who would argue the US government does not do enough to micromanage small and large business owners these days. There are 30 different agencies listed on the US Department of Labor website that monitor the various employment practices and environments of American businesses, using nearly 18,000 employees to accomplish this noble task. We are well-regulated.

So what purpose do unions serve now? They are parasites. Unions have become bloated, self-serving political organizations used to control the actions, assets, and politics of the poor schmucks unlucky enough to trapped by them. That\’s all. They hold wages at an artificially high level and stifle productivity, while often protecting workers who are unmotivated, yet militantly committed to protecting their own livelihood.

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Quote of the Day, 8/15/08

08/15/2008, 7:00 am -- by | No Comments

“So long as man remains free he strives for nothing so incessantly and so painfully as to find someone to worship. . . man is tormented by no greater anxiety than to find someone quickly to whom he can hand over that gift of freedom with which the ill-fated creature is born. . . For the secret of man’s being is not only to live but to have something to live for.” — F. Dostoyevsky

One Hundred Words (28)

08/14/2008, 10:00 pm -- by | No Comments

What\’s my best memory from the wedding last week? Well, the ceremony was great, the dinner was good, and the reception room looked ama-za-zing. And almost everyone from our families was able to be there, which was very nice.

But for me, the best memory was watching my younger daughter join her father and her sister (the bride) for the father/daughter dance.

The three twirled and swirled a bit, then their dad did a double swing-out to perfection — which I, of course, captured on film. Their smiles were breathtaking and priceless. I think it could cheer up my darkest day.

–CSM

Modern Worship

08/14/2008, 10:00 am -- by | 3 Comments

If you know three basic chords on the guitar — G, C, and D — you can play a great deal of modern worship music. Not all of it is that simplistic, but much is.

Sometimes I dread picking out music for a worship service at my church. I have done it many times for at least three or four congregations, all with their good points and bad points, and sometimes, I just hate doing it. When did worship become an automatic, song-based, experiential thing? Can\’t I worship as I weed my garden?

Looking through the hymnal, it struck me that at one time or another, all of the songs in there were the equivalent of ”˜modern worship.\’ Some are older than others — our book includes Celtic melodies, Charles Wesley’s ”˜canon,\’ and other greats like Fanny Crosby.

Suddenly I realized that, despite my condemnation of much ”˜modern worship,\’ there are also many hymns I cannot stand. They seem, to me, to reek of triumphalist, reductionist, cheesy-rhymed stanzas set to unimpressive, repetitive melodies. So many sound so frustratingly similar, just like FM 91.1, Cadillac, Michigan — ”˜Northern Christian Radio.\’

So what do we do with songs we hate, yet somewhere, somehow, seem to lift up the name of the God that we claim to believe, worship, and follow? My tendency is to use those I don\’t agree with theologically sparingly, or not at all. If I wouldn\’t catch myself saying their lyrics, why would I sing them?

And as for ”˜modern\’ songs: we must make sure that when we sing them, it is not in an attempt to ”˜liven people up\’ or ”˜bring them down,\’ but to make them think, with all the steadfast passion of inwardness (thank you, Søren), about humbling themselves completely before YHWH.

And then, let us do this in every other place besides a church meeting.

Joke of the Day, 8/14/08

08/14/2008, 7:00 am -- by | No Comments

How was copper wire invented?

Two lawyers were arguing over a penny.

Battle of the Bands LXV

08/13/2008, 11:00 pm -- by | No Comments

Here’s the next group of band names from Acts — the Esther playoffs will come along shortly!

Vacancy and Distant Shore move on…

{democracy:284}

Bible Discussion — Acts 2

08/13/2008, 6:00 pm -- by | 1 Comment

This week, Bweinh.com moves on to the second chapter of Acts.

PREVIOUS DISCUSSIONS:
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 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10
11 | 12 | 13 | 14-15 | 16-17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24
Esther: 1-2 | 3-5 | 6-8 | 9-10
Acts: 1

 
INTRODUCTION:
Connie:
I think the day started out the same as quite a few others the apostles had been having, but something was different in the heavenlies — and suddenly, something was quite different in the Upper room… then throughout Jerusalem… until the whole world was different.

 
SOMETHING YOU’D NEVER NOTICED BEFORE:
Josh:
“…and you shall receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. For the promise is to you and to your children, and to all who are afar off, as many as the Lord our God will call.”

These verses to me seem a fitting response to those who believe the full power of the Holy Spirit was only available to those present at Pentecost.

Erin:
Peter used a great excuse for the Apostles to not be drunk: “It\’s only nine in the morning!”

Connie:
There must be a difference between old wine and new wine?

 
BEST BAND NAME FROM THE PASSAGE:
Josh: Drunk in the Morning
Erin: Phrygia and Pamphylia
Steve: Fear Came
Chloe: Blood Moon

Continued here!

Quote of the Day, 8/13/08

08/13/2008, 7:00 am -- by | No Comments

“What if everything is an illusion and nothing exists? In that case, I definitely overpaid for my carpet.” — W. Allen

Russia Invades Georgia — Congratulations, Mr. Bush

08/12/2008, 11:42 pm -- by | 4 Comments

Ready for an understatement? I’m frustrated.

I know that given the circumstances, invading Afghanistan was the right thing to do. It was clear from intelligence reports that the mastermind behind the 9/11 plot, Osama Bin Laden, was in hiding there, protected by the Taliban. To almost any impartial observer, Al-Qaeda’s declaration of war on America gave us enough of a justification to declare that war.

I know that the people of Iraq are better off today than they were under Saddam Hussein. Any impartial observer would tell you that despite the old reports of sectarian violence and naysayers predicting three-way civil war, a fledgling democratic government is starting to take root.

But none of that stops me from being so *expletive deleted* frustrated by the whole situation. It’s been nearly seven years since I watched over 2,600 people die on national television. Never before had so much pro-American support been poured out on a global scale, and where do we stand today? Internally and internationally, I would say we’re worse off than ever before, with absolutely no glimmer of hope on the horizon. Neither of our presidential candidates are worth their weight in spit and Americans are too busy worrying about what celebrity is anorexic this week and which one should be anorexic the next.

Even in our own back yard, two-bit leftist thugs spew anti-American hate as a platform for election, and have been growing in influence slowly but surely. How many South American countries even like us any more? How many European countries respect America? How many Americans respect America?

Russia invades Georgia, and we’re absolutely powerless to stop them. We have absolutely no pull in the former Soviet republics when we cannot provide aid to the most pro-Western democracy in the region. Sure, we can threaten Russia with long-term effects — raising insurance rates so they can’t host the Olympic Games, blocking Russian entry into the WTO, refusing to play war games with them…

I don’t know what the answer is. I’d love to tell you that a North American Union would be part of the solution (provided it were a conservative, regional government, not like the EU).

I just don’t know and it frustrates me.

What we need is Ronald W. Reagan. :(

One Hundred Words (27)

08/12/2008, 1:00 pm -- by | 1 Comment

Today I came downstairs, absolutely certain that my brain was going to implode. I had misplaced my passport, and today I am leaving the country.

Up and down the newly carpeted stairs, the dull thudding of my feet and my heartbeat in my ears; unconcealed curses aimed at no one began my day.

I considered crying — but what good would that do? Emotionalism isn\’t really the answer to such a practical problem, and besides, breaking down in a mess of snot and mascara never solved any problems.

It had fallen down behind my jewelry box drawer. How simple.

–EC

Once Upon A Time (Part Four)

08/12/2008, 10:30 am -- by | No Comments

Read part one, part two, and part three!

For three days longer, the prince and his steed traveled. On the third day, when the prince began to despair of ever returning home, he came upon a boneyard, stretching on for miles beyond the horizon. In the center of the carnage was a dragon, massive and black, and curled up asleep.

The prince and his cautious steed crept quietly amongst the refuse until they were close enough for the dragon\’s breath to singe their eyebrows. As the prince raised his lance to plunge it into the dragon\’s stone heart, it opened one eye and said, “You\’ll be lost for all eternity if you do that.”

Now, the young prince did not normally hesitate at the empty threats of his enemies. But he had been laughed at by both an ogre and a kraken, and his self-assurance was flagging. “Why?” he asked, a little bit whiny, lance still at the ready.

“You\’re the bloke means to round up all the women and take them back to their husbands?”

“How did you know?”

“News travels. You took a wrong turn few miles back.”

“And why will vanquishing you to the depths of Hades cause me to be lost for all eternity, wretched beast?”

“No, no. You\’re already lost. I know the way to where you\’re going, and I ate everyone else who knows. Knew.”

“Foul beast! You seek to lead me astray!” And the prince hefted his lance once again, to his wise steed\’s alarm.

“Before you kill me,” drawled the dragon, “may I offer you two pieces of wisdom?”

The brave prince, thrown off guard by this small generosity, assented. “First,” said the dragon, stretching leisurely, claws clicking on bone. “Stop calling people names. It\’s not nice. Second, ask for directions.”

“Is that all?” the prince asked, hefting his lance a third time.

“Oh, yes, and — ” The dragon released a colossally smoky guffaw. “That was in reference to your quest,” he said, and curled up to go back to sleep.

The prince, now almost completely at his wit’s end, could no longer find it in himself to kill the dragon. In all honesty, he was almost sure the lance would glance off the thick black scales and the dragon would laugh at him again.

He simply could not bear that.

And so he tapped the dragon\’s shoulder with the tip of his lance and said politely, “If you please, which way to the evil sorceress\’s lair?”

To be continued!

Joke of the Day, 8/12/08

08/12/2008, 7:00 am -- by | No Comments

A cop pulled a guy over one night and said, “Sir, I need you to blow into this Breathalyzer.”

“I can’t do that,” he said. “I’m an asthmatic and it’ll give me an asthma attack.”

“Okay, then you need to come down to the station and have some blood drawn.”

“Nah, I can’t do that either; I’m a hemophiliac and I’d bleed to death.”

“Then I need a urine sample.”

“Well, I’m a diabetic, so my sugar would get really low and that’s dangerous.”

“Okay — then you need to step out of the car and walk down this white line.”

“I can’t do that either,” the man said.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m drunk.”

The Council’s Ruling — Most Overrated Author

08/11/2008, 8:00 pm -- by | 4 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 — Who is the most overrated author?

The Council was unable to reach a majority ruling on this issue, although there may be a plurality supporting Stephen King.

Tom offers this opinion, joined by Kaitlin and Job:

William Shakespeare. Cleverly explore a few themes universal to the human experience and all the sudden you’re “The Bard?” Puh-lease.

 

Steve offers this opinion, joined by Connie and Djere:

J.K. Rowling. Her reputation and her net worth far exceed the (average) level of her work.

 

MC-B offers this opinion, joined by Tom:

Stephen King; I get it, the guy writes scary novels. Anything else?

 

Connie offers this opinion, joined by MC-B:

Stephen King — he preys on the cheap thrills that come from dabbling in the occult. There are places he goes that he shouldn’t, and stupid people follow who also shouldn’t.

 

Erin offers this opinion, joined by David:

Either Stephen King or the LaHaye/Jenkins duo. King is just too morbid, and the others needed to be shut up during their first book.

 

Djere offers this opinion, joined by Mike:

Mitch Albom — I’d rather spend Tuesdays with morons than his book.

 

Chloe offers this opinion:

Muhammad — he wrote, at times, pure nonsense, which even some Qur’an scholars will confess.

 

Josh played no part in the determination of this issue.

Next time: What is the most difficult job?

Best of Job: For Mr. Slevenzinkin…

08/11/2008, 10:00 am -- by | No Comments

Originally published here on March 27, 2007.

She and I had this game we’d play, you see. We called it “Tumult,” where we’d talk for lengthy periods of time about two different topics. It was a give-and-take conversation with pauses and eye contact as normal; you just weren’t allowed to engage the other person’s line of conversation at all. This included laughter, eye rolling, and — if I was “on” — even blushing. If you did engage the other person, you lost the game, and the $2.85 for the banana split. Banana

“So Ernie, from Sesame Street, died of AIDS,” she’d begin, turning her coffee mug in a slow circle. “Bert’s sad and all, but he likes the extra closet space.”

“It was like no other town I’ve been to,” I’d respond, flashing my eyes for emphasis and picking at imaginary lint on my sleeve. “The ’57 Chevys looked, for once, like they actually were from 1957. Rusted through, door hinges re-welded countless times, but still dutifully making their daily trips to the Circle K for cigarettes. The 15-year-old girls ever plotting their escape while unwittingly taking the steps that would inexorably keep them there forever. 40 ounces. 40 ounces can change a life, they say in Banning, California. Or, rather, can keep it exactly the same.”

“Gum?,” she offered, sliding the silver-wrapped piece out at me in a fluid motion. I was no fool.

“The President has his own movie theater in the basement of the White House, ya know? I bet he’s watching something right now, too; I know I would be. Newsies — the director’s cut.”

She paused, but not enough for me to claim. She always defended Newsies.

“Radiohead’s new album? I hear it’s just going to be 12 tracks of straight static. But angry, artistic static.”

I was the one that paused this time, but only because I contemplated claiming victory. I always defended Radiohead, and she was returning my volley, a plausible bungle. Not now, I cautioned myself. You can get a sure victory.

“See this?,” I asked, pointing to my forearm. “That’s where it bit me. Latched right on and started to roll, carrying me down into the dark depths of the swamp. I screamed and screamed, but still we sank, leaving my world for his — wanna know how I got out?”

“If something ever happens to me,” she responded, thoroughly unimpressed, “I want you to take this to a Mr. Slevenzinkin in Prague. Hotel of the Revolution, room 214.” She slid me a butter knife. “He’ll know what to do. Then head to Haiti and never look back.”

“Job? Never look back.”

She peeled the bananas by saying my name like that, looking me in the eyes. I knew I had to strike before she regrouped.

“That’s a nice shirt you’re wearing . . . does it come in your size?”

 

—–

Laughing, eye-rolling, blushing and kicking me suddenly in the shins — all ice cream where I come from…

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