A Brief Note

10/1/2008, 12:00 am -- by | 1 Comment

Hello, friends. Happy October.

The past month has brought significant change to Bweinh!, and I wanted to make you aware of some of the details.

First, please join me in thanking Chloe and Erin for all of their fantastic contributions, which have, unfortunately, come to an end. Their insightful perspectives and well-fashioned prose, which enlivened so much of the site, will truly be missed.

Second, we are currently in a time of transition, and it may result in slightly more sporadic updates. The weekly Bible discussion will continue on its regular schedule, but articles and Clashes may be slower to appear at times. I’m not quite sure what this transition will bring, or when it will be complete, but I can tell you that the site will neither disappear nor fade away.

Third, there is absolutely no truth to the rumor that tremors in the overseas credit markets will lead to our acquisition by a larger, more established website, or even the United States government. Allow me to assure you that we are as solvent today as the day we began; your money is as safe with us as it is with any group of random strangers who enjoy the finer things in life. Oh, and I earned this Maserati. I intend to keep it.

Fourth — well, there is no fourth. You can leave early! But please feel free to email me with any suggestions or comments, about anything at all. And thanks for visiting.

One Hundred Words (35)

09/30/2008, 1:55 pm -- by | No Comments

With the financial meltdown and $700B ridiculousness eating up the media\’s “Foam at the mouth about how wonderful Obama is” time, illegal immigrants aren\’t in the forefront of our collective psyche.

Illegals “do the jobs Americans won\’t,” like landscaping, housekeeping, bussing tables, and picking fruits and vegetables. Why won\’t Americans ”˜do\’ these jobs? They don\’t pay well enough and they\’re dangerous, so illegals do them for less than Americans are willing to.

Get rid of the aliens, and hotels/commercial farms will have to provide safer environments and higher wages for LEGAL immigrants to work.

A living wage without government interference!

–JJM

Adventures in Puppyhood!

09/28/2008, 10:12 am -- by | 3 Comments

Meet Reagan! (And Gorby the duck)

Meet Reagan! (And Gorby the duck)

Official Wife Karen is a glutton for punishment. Whenever we would visit the mall, she would always make sure we stopped at the pet store to look at the puppies. I like dogs, so naturally I agreed to LOOK at the $1,000+ puppies in the mall, but never, ever, ever, ever, ever in a million years would we buy one there.

As much as I love her, Official Wife Karen is what you could call impulsive. So seeing puppies in the mall made her want them, checking account balance notwithstanding. Combine her impulsiveness with her gluttony for punishment and you have a recipe for disaster. I want that puppy, I want it now, and if you loved me you wouldn’t show me puppies we can’t afford.

We had been looking through ads in the newspaper to see the prices for different puppies for sale and had decided that we wanted a chocolate lab puppy named Albert Q. Einstein and a beagle puppy named Sir Isaac Newton. And of course, since we live in an apartment with a no-pet lease, we’d get them once we bought a house.

Yesterday morning, she wanted to look at puppies at the SPCA. LOOK at puppies. Look at puppies. Look, look, look, look, look.

Look, not buy. Continued here!

A Faithful Witness

09/26/2008, 4:52 pm -- by | 1 Comment

“Poetry too is a little incarnation . . .”
C.S. Lewis

Anything that I have ever written, if it was written well, seemed to me not something I created, but rather something I uncovered. Anything possessing real beauty or wisdom is surely an absolute, which existed long before I penned the words or captured the thoughts to put on display. So it is imperative when I write to be faithful to recreate what I feel or see in my mind. It can\’t be written to appeal to a certain person or demographic. I can\’t alter what I see or feel: I can only write and re-write until it comes as close as possible to what I saw or felt.

To illustrate this point, I have always intended to write a short story, about a boy who lives by the sea and discovers a shipwreck, filled with immeasurable treasures, too heavy to bring to the surface. At first all he can do is dive down and glimpse them, but in time, he trains himself to hold his breath for a longer time, until he can stay long enough to memorize their appearance. Eventually he is able to reproduce the wondrous treasures in pictures to show the village.

The crisis would come when people begin to buy the pictures, and he is tempted to listen to suggestions for improving the appeal of the pictures for others. Through the struggle, he would ultimately come to understand that he must stay faithful to what he sees — although no one else had developed their lungs and braved the depths to view the treasures, at some point they might, and he would be found to be a liar. He would be found to have been false to what he saw; false to himself.

And that is why and how I write.

Best of Bweinh! — Is Belief Offensive?

09/25/2008, 11:00 am -- by | No Comments

Originally published March 29, 2007.

This week on my campus, the several Christian groups have all participated in a campaign called “I Agree With Craig.” Junior Craig Jones printed a statement of faith as an ad in the campus paper on Monday, hundreds of signs were posted, Christian students wore “I Agree With Craig” T-shirts all week, more ads were taken out where students, faculty, and staff said why they agreed with Craig, and several events have been, or will be, held — including a praise celebration, Craig’s public testimony, and a forum discussion on Christianity.

This campaign has unified the Christians on campus, many of whom were not aware how large their numbers were, or who else in their classes believed as they did. But naturally, the campaign has also caused a bit of controversy. Today’s “point-counterpoint” section of the newspaper concerned the campaign, and the featured columnist argued — well, I’ll let you see just what he argued. Go ahead, check it out. I’ll wait.

 

*twiddles thumbs*

 

Wow, huh? Pretty stunned? So was I!

Let’s go through this guy’s argument. First of all, public displays of personal faith — apparently ranging from street preachers to written testimonies to unobtrusive clothing — make him “anxious,” much like you might squirm at the sight of face-sucking on the bus. Fair enough so far. But what’s his solution? Well, it’s not to get a thicker skin, or to engage the actual ideas involved — no, this brave and brilliant gentleman has a problem with something far more fundamental — the very right of others to express what they believe in a public place, provided it has anything to do with the “binary” message of right and wrong. A full-blooded assault on at least two of the First Amendment’s underlying themes!

In Ben Peskin’s world, any statement you make, any belief you have that someone might reasonably disagree with, is best saved for your bedroom, late at night, behind closed doors, maybe even under your covers with a flashlight — and even then you ought to whisper it, because there’s a chance he might overhear and get a little uneasy down in his tummy. I’d love to see him teach a math class. “Class! Everyone got an A again, unless, of course, you don’t think that particular symbol represents an A, in which case you got whatever grade you want! Yes, 3 times 3 equals whatever you want it to, provided of course you don’t arrogantly stand up for your answer as right!”

Metaphysics and religion are different from mathematics, but closely examine Ben’s argument. He’s not arguing Craig is wrong; he has no interest in even considering Craig’s beliefs. His problem is strictly with the fact that Craig, and thousands of other Christians, stood up and shared them. Apparently in Ben’s world, it’s better to actively silence any messy discussion of religion, morals, diet soda or (one would imagine) politics, than allow such conversations to be shared publicly — through any means. Just think of all the Pepto-Bismol Ben would need if people were allowed to argue! It’s much better to just stay home and stay quiet, Christians, rather than “rolling around nude on the quad making out” with your four-word T-shirts. For Ben’s sake. Please.

Is it arrogant to share your beliefs, as Ben suggests, especially if they imply that others are wrong? I don’t think so. But if it is, then lo and behold, Ben is the most arrogant — after all, he’s the only one with both the courage to take a hard position and the intellectual confusion to order his opponents to just shut up and obey.

Why We Believe: Vol. 10

09/23/2008, 1:00 pm -- by | No Comments

At long last, on this, his 30th birthday — we present Josh’s testimony, the latest in our testimony series.

Of all the things for which I have to be thankful in this life, there is one unparalleled: the faith of my parents. What would prove to be the very foundation of my own life, my earliest understanding of God, that He is and who He is, was rooted not in the fact that my parents told me about Him (although they certainly did that), but in that they live their lives as though He is an absolute certainty.

Not that I never doubted. I distinctly remember when I was about four years old, wondering if the whole thing was a conspiracy. Those books in the back of the pew could be made up, and my parents could be in on it. Even my childish mind soon came to the conclusion that the thought that God does not exist is far more preposterous than the thought that He does.

Not that I fully understood. I was told that church was God\’s house, but I wasn\’t sure where He was, since I\’d been all over that building and never once run into Him. I finally figured He must spend most of His time in my mother\’s office, the one room I wasn\’t allowed to enter. I passed by the door with great reverence.

But I knew that God could make His dwelling in my heart, if I accepted the gift of His Son. And so, as a little boy, I said the sinner\’s prayer, and that little boy received salvation.

Of course, that little boy isn\’t here anymore. He\’s been gone for some time now.

I was 16 the first time I realized that I took my faith for granted, that the God of salvation accepted by a young boy would have to be accepted by a young man. As my understanding increased, as my person matured, as my life changed altogether, I would have to decide anew for whom that life was going to be lived.

The Lord continued to place people in my life to give me the love, encouragement, and instruction I needed to point me to Him, to keep growing, to keep surrendering. The fellowship of believers has reflected Him to me, and I am privileged to be a part of that fellowship, to reflect Him to others.

And so I seek after the Lord, and I find Him faithful. I seek His will, and He directs me, He sustains me, He supplies my needs. I stumble, and He restores me. I walk with Him today, and by His grace I will walk with Him tomorrow.

Tension and Balance

09/22/2008, 10:00 am -- by | 7 Comments

“It is the sea that shapes the sailor, and the land that shapes the sea . . .”
Rich Mullins, “The Breaks”

While we were checking out of Wal-Mart on Saturday, the subject of Sarah Palin came up, and I was astounded to find out that my son-in-law had no idea who she was. He had not even heard of her yet. I guess all that really means is that ”” as pervasive as coverage of her has been ”” it has not yet filtered down into the virtual environment of World of Warcraft.

Perhaps it\’s not so astounding. It started a good discussion about politics and presidential candidates, though, and eventually he asked me to explain the difference between liberals and conservatives. After considering and discarding various statements, I decided to fall back on the standard explanation that liberals basically favor more government involvement in our lives, while conservatives seek less.

I know that is an oversimplified statement of the opposing views, but in our country it is pretty accurate. Both views are necessary. Obviously no one wants to live without government oversight and regulation of society. I like to know that the bridge I\’m driving over has been engineered and built to some kind of safety standards, and I actually welcome government interference when my neighbors are partying in their driveway till the wee hours of the morning and I can ask a policeman to go by and have them turn the music down.

On the other hand, while some people are talking about the government hitting the oil companies with outrageous windfall profit taxes, I ask myself, “Would I want the government to step in when I have a good month at work and take another 30% of my profits ”” in addition to what I already paid?”

No, I wouldn\’t. I don\’t want them to have so much control over things that they stifle productivity and initiative by removing the rewards that come with hard work. That thinking has always led to failure in communist or socialist societies.

The chief impetus for civilization is the ability to pool our resources and create a system that gives us access to services and benefits that we could never afford on our own: libraries, courts, police, military. To accomplish that, we surrender some of our wealth by paying taxes. It also makes it possible to care for the poor among us. Our nation functions best by maintaining a good balance between the two opposing views; the tension keeps us from going off the deep end in either direction.

Liberals force conservatives like me to do a better job of helping the poor, protecting the environment, and being proactive on health care and other social issues. We force them to understand how a free market system works to generate the wealth necessary to perform the costly services that they want society to provide. In this country, we also serve to remind them that there is a God who has standards. We are committed to seeing those standards reflected in our national psyche, even when they run afoul of the liberal ideas on abortion, homosexuality, and other social issues.

We ended up having a good conversation, and I feel confident that my son-in-law at least has an inkling of who Sarah Palin is. And who knows: maybe now the Republicans have a shot at the 17 World of Warcraft electoral votes in November.

Best of Bweinh! — Scared of the Dark

09/18/2008, 12:30 pm -- by | 2 Comments

11 years ago tomorrow, Rich Mullins died in a car accident. He was a singer, a songwriter, a poet and a prophet, an honest and authentic man of God. He was 41.

Two days before he died, he wrote my favorite poem of all time, reprinted below. It was the last piece he wrote before his death.

Scared of the Dark
Rich Mullins
September 17, 1997

i don’t remember meeting Him
He had just always been there.
when people ask me, “how did you meet the Lord?”
i don’t know how to answer.
meeting Him seems unavoidable
recognizing Him can be tricky
loving Him seems impossible.
people often ask that too — “do you love Jesus?”
and again i’m stuck for an answer
i know the right one — the answer you’re supposed to give
i know that it presupposes so many things that it could hardly be honest
so i say,
as much as i love,
i love Jesus.

if love was easier, i would love Him more
but then again
if love was easier, it would hardly be worth the little it would ask
if i was stronger, i would love Him more
or maybe
i would more know how little i love

we grow slowly,
and love takes time . . .

Continued here!

Best of Djere: Ethical Immorality

09/16/2008, 3:00 pm -- by | No Comments

Originally published, July 2007.

unethical — not being in accordance with the rules or standards for right conduct or practice.
immoral — deliberately violating accepted principles of right and wrong.

The terms are used almost interchangeably these days, and I don’t know just how fair that is. In case this is your first visit to the planet, welcome to America, land of moral relativism.

Morality speaks to the inherent right-ness or wrong-ness of a given action, thought, or behavior. Regardless of the current pulse of the nation or flavor of the week, Morality exists and has existed from beyond the beginning of time.

Ethics are different. The problem with ethicality is that it changes from person to person, culture to culture, and time to time. I define ethics as the application of your values.

values — the ideals, customs, institutions, etc., of a society toward which the people of the group have an affective regard. These values may be positive, as cleanliness, freedom, or education, or negative, as cruelty, crime, or blasphemy.

Think of the things you value — freedom, money, family. The application of your values — which values take priority over other values — now that’s where you create your ethics. If a business organization places a high value on integrity or truthfulness, part of their code of ethics will reflect that importance. If a member were to deal unfairly with an associate, his actions would be unethical — contrary to the values of his organization.

Personal and organizational ethics are derived from values. Values are based upon two things — both a little farther removed from the lofty ethical ideals we think of as right and wrong. First, we base our values on likes and dislikes, two things which interact, change, morph, and ebb and flow as the years pass. Second, we base them on our experiences and observations.

Likes and dislikes, experience and observation give us the why behind the values which gives us the why behind the ethics. Like a pyramid, many experiences and observations combine into our likes and dislikes. Many likes and dislikes combine into our values. Several values combine into our ethics. The truest state of our ethics come from the bottom up, percolating from our past into our future.

Standing alone are morals. Being a Christian, I cannot believe anything but that morals are absolute. There is absolute supreme truth, and it is real and substantial. If morals are the thing, ethics are the shade, the shadow, the human approximation.

With the regeneration of ourselves through the redemptive work of Christ *should* come the regeneration of our code of ethics. Working in the hearts of men, the Holy Spirit Himself transforms us from the top down.

Nothing can change your past — your experiences, your observations, your hurts and past sins. What changes is your response to them, the forgiveness you receive, and hopefully, your values.

Four Weeks (Part Six)

09/12/2008, 2:00 pm -- by | 1 Comment

Read the series in parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Josh delivered me to the Staten Island ferry terminal deep in the middle of the night. I walked up the stairs through a deserted station to the waiting area, where my two bags were reasonably sniff-searched by a friendly officer and his taciturn dog. The boat itself was near-empty, containing the usual suspects: sleeping homeless men bound down for the next in a series of 30-minute naps; a few Type A white collars, off to put an early chokehold on the workday; small groups of nocturnal young men in gold chains.

I remember the exceptions very well. A 40-something black woman comforting two young children. The occasional solitary young woman, with omnipresent iPod and steely, self-reliant New York eyes. The unkempt man who screamed nonsense at the top of his lungs: like many of us, very angry about something he couldn’t quite express.

On my quarter-mile walk to the subway station, I slung my carry-on around my neck and struggled to smoothly heft my suitcase. Rolling bags were not designed for those of two-meter height. Lumbering down the sidewalk, I was startled by a horn from the street. Ten feet away, a cab had stopped in the middle of the road. Its driver looked at me expectantly, eyes and mouth open wide, gesturing to the back seat like a taxicab Messiah. “Behold! Thy salvation cometh!”

I let him down as gently as I could and descended into the bowels of the city to catch the 4 train north. The crisp, cool harbor air quickly gave way to the humid, sinister dankness of the underground. I took out my voice recorder to both capture and fight off the eerie noir. I felt safe because the setting was so impossibly clichéd. True evil hides.

I switched to the JFK-bound A, boarding a car containing three other passengers, which seemed perfect. No large drunken groups, no danger from solitude. You may not always be able to count on help, but some chance beats none. If I’d been in the car with that hammerer, the story would have ended differently, one way or another. All it takes sometimes is one person who acts.

But if your troubles are more pedestrian, you may not want me in your car. We neared JFK and my closest neighbor was an elderly Chinese woman clutching a small suitcase. Both of us had been sleeping, but she had not awakened. I didn’t know if there was another JFK stop, or if she was headed elsewhere, or if she spoke English, or (God forbid) if she had died — so I took the cowardly middle ground, making as much noise as I possibly could without touching her. I slammed my bags, I cleared my throat, I even faked a sneeze. Nothing.

I got off alone. I watched the subway slide down the tracks; it still held the woman, who, still, held her suitcase. The sun was rising, and before the workday ended, I would be in California. I hope she got where she was meant to be.

Statistics and Lives

09/11/2008, 11:30 am -- by | No Comments

I read an article that noted a surprising consequence of high gasoline prices: a drop in US traffic deaths, producing the lowest figure in nearly a decade. 42,708 people died in traffic accidents in 2006; the total dropped to 41,059 in 2007. 1,649 fewer people died last year, in part because gas prices rose, people drove less, and fatal accidents occurred at a diminished rate. Statistics can be so cold and calculated.

It isnʼt a crisis of faith that prompts me to think about this. I know God holds us in His hands — I’m the first to agree that we enter and leave this world on His timetable — but something about the thought of whimsical economic forces defining the boundaries of my existence baffles me. After all, you or me — either of us — could be one of those 1,649, now still free to touch and affect others in myriad untraceable ways. I guess it gets all mixed in with chaos theory, the “butterfly effect.” A dictator flaps his mouth, and on the other side of the world, 1,649 more people stay alive.

Why do I care so much about this? 43,510 people died on the highway in 2005; that’s another statistic. But one of them was more than a statistic to us. His name was Bobby, and he lived in Florida. He was 78; he had a wife; he died in an accident because my wife didnʼt see his car and pulled out in front of him.

I got to pray for him and tell him, through tears of grief, how sorry she was. We shared an emergency room together — Bobby with internal injuries, my wife with a fractured neck.

Itʼs been almost three years now, but sometimes the shadow of that grief passes over my wife again, and I can see it. A scene from some movie, or an offhand comment, can bring the whole thing back, and I try to comfort her. I remind her that there were extenuating circumstances. The intersection was under construction: barrels, equipment, confusing signs. Her accident was the second that day at the intersection, the sixth in two weeks. Someone was rushing her, vigorously motioning from the far side of the intersection for her to hurry up. She looked twice, both ways, and saw no one. The gentleman was speeding.

I remind her that there was an investigation, and no negligence was found. She was not speeding, talking on her cell phone, or using drugs or alcohol; in fact, in over 30 years of driving, she never had so much as a single speeding ticket on her record.

I remind her that it was an accident.

It passes eventually, and sheʼs okay again. Itʼs just life, and if Iʼve learned anything in life, Iʼve learned that everyone has to learn to live with pain. Every family has a statistic or a skeleton that can jump out of the closet at any moment and reopen old wounds.

It just seems so capricious; so arbitrary. Gas hits $4 a gallon and 1,649 people live who would have died.

But 2005 is history; unchangeable.

On Thought; On Thinking

09/10/2008, 10:00 am -- by | No Comments

“If I have a book to serve me as my understanding, a pastor to serve as my conscience, a physician to determine my diet for me, and so on, I need not exert myself at all.”

Because, frankly, who wants to exert themselves?

I am at that point in life where we\’re supposed to take our beliefs and make them our own. We all have this sense of independent thought, this underlying ethos of self-determined path. I. I. Just the assertion of such bespeaks incredible audacity. I am saying this. It has come from me, and, further, I am worth listening to. I live and breathe and participate in life. I have a voice.

“The unexamined life is not worth living.” Is this true? It has to be. Who could deny it? Rational, thoughtful consideration of what we\’re doing and why we\’re doing it. Intentionality ”” purposefulness. Are we thinking? Am I thinking? Are you my responsibility? Spinoza said that his happiness was contingent on persuading others to think as he did. If I attempt a thoughtful life, and find it even marginally satisfying, isn\’t encouraging the same in you the least I could do?

Mental exertion. Laborious. So hard to ascend the mountain. Why do it? Why do anything? I mean, really now. Why expend so much energy to rise up out of sensual, physical comfort? Why get out of bed in the morning? Why rip off the cozy comforter and spring up into the spare clear air bare and awake?

Why not?

That\’s the thing about thinking. You begin thinking that thinking is a waste of time; unproductive, nothing to show for it in the end, that sort of thing. But you do it long enough and you realize that without it, nothing else has worth. I got out of bed this morning. I went surfing this morning. I am going to be late to my Intro to Philosophy class if I don\’t finish this soon. I am going to rip off my unexamined blanket of beliefs and plunge into the cold clear water, inky grey-green obsidian glass, and paddle.

Best of Erin: Imagine

09/9/2008, 1:00 pm -- by | No Comments

Originally published in October 2007.

Looking through Houghton’s course catalog the other day on a quest to decide my future, I noticed a class called ‘Psychology of Religion,’ which included Sören Kierkegaard in its great theological and psychological thinkers. This was especially interesting to me because I had been hoping to write on the subject of the imagination, and I had thought of that as more of a psychological than theological topic. Kierkegaard tackles the issue of imagination from various perspectives and pseudonyms throughout his writings, but unites theology and psychology in his analysis of the imagination and what it means to humanity. In his work, especially Philosophical Fragments and Fear and Trembling, a possibly preposterous idea arises: that the human being would be incapable of imagination without the existence of God.

Much of Fear and Trembling centers on the story of Abraham and his belief — a prime example of how imagination is feasible only through faith. Commanded to sacrifice Isaac, Abraham dutifully obeyed, believing “on the strength of the absurd” that “through faith [he would not] renounce anything, on the contrary in faith [he would] receive everything.” What makes this belief possible?

Johannes de silentio (Kierkegaard’s pseudonym) details for us the “faith paradox” in which “the single individual as the particular is higher than the universal [: and] stands in absolute relation to the absolute.” In plainer language, a person who chooses for himself to make continual choices for faith in God comes into an appropriate relationship with God (the only real absolute), characterized by a “paradoxical and humble courage.” For this continual choice to be possible, humans must in the first place be able to comprehend something larger than themselves.

In the process of creation God gave to humanity not just a spirit of immediate understanding, but also a perception of God Himself, in whose image humanity was created. This ability to perceive God (but not fully understand Him) is why Abraham could “imagine” that although he fully intended to go through with the sacrifice, God would keep His promise to give him Isaac as well. It’s a logical contradiction, but Abraham’s imagination allowed him to make what Johannes Climacus (a later pseudonym) will call the “leap of faith.”

Making this leap of faith, therefore, is nothing more than humans imagining against logical thought that God will provide or move or manifest His will, then choosing to immerse themselves in the belief that their imagination is the only the beginning of God’s working. It is the choice to believe the imaginative perception God gave to humans.

I am not talking about dreaming crazy situations where God swoops in and, in nothing short of a miracle, saves the day; neither do I mean our usual, modern definition of imagination — that gift required to write a novel or create a beautiful work of art or escape boredom. Though those are manifestations of the ability to imagine, given to humanity by God, the root of all imagination is God’s need for a relationship with man. God gave man the imagination to create scenes or ideas or pictures beyond the immediate, but His love for man requires that this imagination be fulfilled by an absolute belief.

The example of Nicodemus in John 3 is not explicitly given in Philosophical Fragments, but the reference to Nicodemus’ struggle with this very concept was unmistakable, especially considering Kierkegaard’s audience. His chief problem was that he imagined in too literal a sense what Jesus meant by “born again.” His imagination lacked faith’s leap into the absurd and could not process Jesus’ metaphor. Although as a member of the human race he had been given the ability to imagine — the ability to have faith — he was “essentially deceived” into thinking faith was entirely his work. As a teacher of Israel, Nicodemus saw God as one who would “draw the learned up toward himself” because of a careful Pharisaical lifestyle. Instead, as Jesus instructs and Climacus’ writings echo, he must concede the essence of faith is that God “will appear, therefore, as the equal of the lowliest of persons.”

But this is unthinkable! Disrespectful! Unimaginable!

That is exactly is what Johannes Climacus shows: the human mind and its capacity for imagination are totally reliant on a consciousness of something far beyond it, far greater than it, and yet also of something (Someone) who condescended to become equal to it. This condescension overleaps the limits of mere human imagination.

Only once God “poetized himself in the likeness of a human being” could man begin to truly and imaginatively marvel at God’s love, “for love does not have the satisfaction of need outside itself but within [:]” God’s love, completely justified in His being, still needs man’s imaginative, passionate, absurd faith to be complete.

What could be more preposterous — yet absolutely true — than this?

The Christian Stoic

09/5/2008, 3:00 pm -- by | No Comments

Acts 17:18 — “Then certain. . . Stoic philosophers. . . “

Once while studying the text above, I found that the Stoics believed in something called “suspended judgment.” They did not believe in responding to things immediately, and saw no value in forming opinions about, or reacting to, everything that happened around them — hence, our concept of the stoic, unemotional person.

I like that idea. I think people have too many opinions. Maybe it\’s just my natural laziness, but I have no interest in pursuing things outside my realm of concern. It\’s a waste of time and energy. Forming an opinion is hard work — or at least it should be — and doing so about a subject that doesn’t concern me is like voluntarily writing a 50,000-word essay for a class I’m not in, just to get in on the discussion.

Several years ago in New York, our senior pastor suddenly left the church, taking about one-tenth of the people with him to start another church in the same town. It was a painful and confusing time for all of us. Around that time, one of the young men from the church came to our house for lunch; as we sat around talking, he asked me my opinion of the man who had left.

I said, “I don\’t have one.” He said, “What? Are you sure?”

I remember searching my heart for a few seconds, then responding, slightly embarrassed, that I honestly had no opinion of the man and his recent actions.

After a pause, he said, “You\’re the youth pastor…you\’re part of the leadership! How can you not have an opinion?” After thinking again, I remember shrugging my shoulders. “Because I don\’t have to?”

The truth is that God had called me to that church, and while that man was there, he was my pastor. But after he left, he was no longer my pastor, and ceased to hold any interest for me in that regard. I loved him, I prayed for him, but I didn\’t feel any need to judge him, examine his actions, or form an opinion about him. Other people in positions of authority might have had to form opinions and deal with him on a disciplinary level but — thank God — I was not one of them.

Ten years after this, while I re-read The Pilgrim’s Regress by C.S. Lewis, I ran across a passage (reprinted below) that I first read around that same time. I guess it must have sunk down deep, because although I had no specific recollection of reading it before, it perfectly summarized a chief foundation stone in my personal philosophy: I refuse to force myself to have an opinion on everything that crosses my line of sight.

I read once that worry is a “bevy of inefficient thoughts whirling around a point of fear.” I wonder how much of our examination of people and events springs from worry. How many of our opinions are produced by inefficient thoughts that surround the fear in our lives? How much sweeter it is to find that point of fear and remove it, so that your thoughts can work on something that does require your attention. I hope you take a minute to read this passage below, and that you find it as liberating as I have.

The main character, John, is speaking with a character named Reason, trying to determine if the island he seeks is real or imagined. This passage begins with a question from Reason.

Who told you that the island was an imagination of yours?
Well, you would not assure me that it was anything real.
Nor that it was not.
But I must think that it is one or the other.
By my father’s soul, you must not — until you have some evidence. Can you not remain in doubt?
I don\’t know that I have ever tried.
You must learn to if you are to come far with me. It is not hard to do it. In Eschropolis, indeed, it is impossible, for the people who live there have to give an opinion once a week, or once a day, or else Mr. Mammon would soon cut off their food. But out here in the country you can walk all day, and all the next day, with an unanswered question in your head; you need never speak until you have made up your mind.
But if a man wanted to know so badly that he would die unless the question was decided — and no more evidence turned up?
Then he would die, that would be all.

Four Weeks (Part Five)

09/4/2008, 12:00 pm -- by | 1 Comment

Read the series in parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

I’ve never really cared much about symbolism. I’ve never found it very important. I hated “awareness days” in high school, enough to hang ironic posters in the halls to draw attention to deadlier, but less trendy, diseases. I remember complaining, as a child, about a news story honoring teenagers who went without food for a day to better identify with the hungry. They seemed so proud of themselves, but what good did it do anyone? Why didn’t they spend that day EATING WITH the hungry, rather than joining them in their lack?

But I have grown to understand that there are genuine benefits to symbolic gestures — like identification. This is something I never grasped as a child, growing up with leaders, teachers, coaches, and classmates who all looked like me, in a world run by my cultural and religious forebears. When everybody already resembles you, you don’t always grasp the desire to see yourself in symbols or politicians.

I am perfectly happy being different now, not only because of my personality or my loving home, but because in many ways I never chose, I already fit into my particular world. There are plenty of things I need to understand about those who don’t.

All this ran through my mind as Josh and I stepped onto a basketball court in Stapleton, N.Y., inner-city Staten Island. We were the only white people on the court. We were the only white people on the street. And we were, from the reaction of many around us, the only white people in the world. I looked to the side of the lane, and couldn’t help but laugh when I saw what lay there: two stomped crackers, smeared and crushed into the ground. Some metaphors are just too obvious to invent.

We weren’t in sufficient shape to play on the other court, so after we chased away the hordes of curious preadolescents, we took to running full-court with the JV squad: the slightly less athletic, slightly younger, slightly less motivated players from the neighborhood. We won the games, mostly because we really hate to lose, but the attention we drew focused more on what we represented than our status as teammates or opponents. When Josh stole the ball, when I blocked it, the crowd, including the recent losers from the main court, would erupt in hooting derision toward whatever player had been so unfortunate.

We were the Other, all the more so because this wasn’t even Josh’s usual court; no one knew us. In a very small way, I better understood, I grasped more powerfully, what it must be like outside my skin and culture. This might be the single most important benefit to diversity as a value: real empathy requires more than just knowledge. It takes feeling. Identification.

A few days before my trip, I played beach volleyball with an Indian friend. All the other players were Indian, some even speaking Hindi, and almost all of them were significantly better than I was. I felt, on a small scale, the discomfort of exclusion, the pressure to measure up, and the burden of being, in some odd but tangible way, alone.

And I can’t help thinking it was just the type of awareness I needed.

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