If Shakespeare lived during Noshavember :)

To shave, or not to shave? That is Noshavember's question...

Whether 'tis nobler in the cold to buffer

With brittle whiskers the winter's cold

Or to take blades against a beard and mustache

And by much scraping, trim them. To shave, to sweep --

No more -- and like a sheep this cold to fend

The cold's ache planned by frigid natural shocks

That earth is heir to. 'Tis a consternation

I surely wouldn't miss. To fly, to flee --

To flee -- from nasty cuts; ah! There's the band-aid.

Yet then to flee from cold - what whiskers come!

Though we have scuttled half the morning's toil

We must take pause. There’s the respect
That makes a mockery of bearded life.
For who would bear the quips and jokes of time,
Th’oppressive throng, the young men, youthfully
Their pains for chin-based hairs, met with dismay,
Their insolence so offered, and their burns
A patient man of worthy age must take
When he himself might his mustache make
In a few mornings. Who would model theirs
In front…yet fret under those jealous eyes
But that the dread of freezing unto death
In open, windy country, where the mourn
Of travelers is heard, through cold distilled,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to southern countries we know not of?
Thus, coldness does make hairiness the call
And thus the native hairs of resolution
Are prickly o’er the pale skin of my face
This enterprise of great growth per moment
Takes all regard for currents turning frigid
And loses them -- with attraction – Yet we’re now
The warmer – winter, on the horizons
Be ne’er its cold remembered.

Living in the forever

The best thing about a life lived full of the knowledge of God's presence and power is that there need not be at any point a sense of despair. A grasp of the forever of eternity with God should cure us of a sense of wasted life, except in cases where we are intentionally wasting.
I think as a Christian I am able to live a life that in good times is full to bursting with today, and in bad times is full to bursting with tomorrow. Who am I to say that I will not heal when I am sick? Who am I to say I will not reap the harvest from an honest sowing? Who am I to say fortresses will not come tumbling down through the power of the Word?
I think it's silly that we spend so many youthful years trying to throw ourselves at joy, thinking that there's only so much of it to be had and if we misread the schedule that train will leave the station without us. You would not stand side by side with your spouse at your wedding, age 35, and mourn that you did not marry someone at age 20 would you? I should think you would rather be full to bursting with the overflowing joy of that day!
Why do we have a sense that there are these things which we MUST have experienced, these events and joys that we must achieve or we will have missed out?
We're going to be in heaven. For eternity. We have the best, longest, most perfect summer vacation ahead of us. In that sense there's almost a "So what?" that comes in when the joys of this life are cut short. So you might not reach a 75th anniversary. Did you enjoy your 40 years? Did you enjoy your 10 years?
Is there any reason why a 30, 20, or 10 year old who lived life in service of God and had joy has experienced LESS than the person who reaches 100? Not at all, for even if that person had an amazing 100 years they both have eternity beyond it.
Let us measure and drink deep of the overflowing goodness of each day and never lose our taste for the feast of tomorrow, knowing that the one thing a Christian does not run out of is time for blessings.
Sacrifice your good things when another's good needs precedence. Take pain so that others do not. Run yourself ragged so that others don't have to. When God blesses you with someone who will run themselves ragged beside you and share the burdens, then enjoy the added blessings and run even farther. We will live forever, and it's already started. How far and how fast can we get before we head further in and further up?

THAT'S it. Everyone out of the pool!

Billy! Johnny! Get over here, right now!

I want you to stop this bickering right now.

I don't want to hear about how Johnny Republican wouldn't let you play doctor with the whole country using all of his stuff, Billy. And quit whining about how Billy Democrat stole all your lunch money, Johnny. Pointing fingers and crying over whose fault it is doesn't make the problem go away.

Billy! Stop breaking all the things in the backyard. It doesn't solve the problem if you throw a temper tantrum, and all you're doing is hurting people who don't need to be hurt.

You had better play nice. Don't make me come out there and separate you two. I will send you to your rooms.

You just wait until your Father comes home...

(Excerpts of a conversation I'd like to have with Congress)

Introducing the mediator

Our Bible Study group discussed Genesis 18 this past week, and the presenter introduced an interesting concept: That of Abraham in the role of mediator.

God comes down to earth and is passing by Abraham's tent, and the message is given again that Sarah will have a child. Now, Abraham had already been told this in the previous chapter, so it follows that God didn't come down just for this reason. And indeed, they then carry on towards Sodom and Gomorrah, and God tells Abraham of His intent to determine the truth of the sinfulness of those cities so that He may wipe them out.

Now we've seen this happen already a few times previous to now. God comes down "in the cool of the day" after Adam and Eve sin; God knows what they did, but He's come down to confront them and bring judgment. When Cain kills Abel, God again comes and speaks to Cain, saying that Abel's blood is crying out from the ground. God also comes down to see the Tower of Babel and to render judgment. However, this time things are different.

God is coming to judge Sodom and Gomorrah, but He stops at Abraham's tent. Why? Because He is establishing the role of the mediator, which Abraham is the first to carry out. He's here to bring judgment, but also so that Abraham  will intercede and understand his duty, a duty that will be passed down through generations to Israel and beyond.

Another interesting point is that the message of the birth is stated *again* here. Abraham already knew about this promise, so on one hand this is God saying it to Sarah as well. But additionally I think this is symbolic of the eventual promise of the covenant fulfillment in the coming of Christ.
Essentially, God is coming in judgment against a people, but establishing that there is mediation and that the righteous will have mercy. Then God is giving a message, as He does all throughout Israel's history, of judgment for sin but a promise of mercy through the seed of the woman in the future.

(Hopefully this makes sense, it's taken from notes. I just find it intriguing that this is sort of the next step in the covenant promise God made to Abraham, which establishes God's people as mediators and ministers to the nations, and looks to the hope of Christ)

The awesomeness of the Holy Spirit vs. the awesomeness of your magic powers

I stumbled across this website and in particular this question today, which got me thinking.
http://www.gotquestions.org/miraculous-gifts.html

They're right on most points, and in particular it's very important to underscore the purpose of the miraculous signs and wonders performed both in the Old and New Testament, as well as to whom they were given.
What I disagree with:
1. God speaking directly to people today. The article in fact provides the reason why I don't believe this happens: Because the Word of God was finished in Revelation. Everything we need - all the information He chose to reveal to us this side of the grave - is contained in the Bible. Now I have heard of conversion experiences and powerful feelings and a sense of God directly speaking to you. However, being suddenly quite sure of what you're called to do or say vs. God speaking into your heart is an important distinction. Understand: God DID speak to you in that you have a heart beating, lungs breathing, and a brain thinking. God IS speaking to you in that the decisions you face in your life are guided by the Word He spoke into existence which He gave to us for guidance. God does speak to us so that we are here, alive, with choices and the wisdom to make them. But God does not whisper into your mind, "Marry that woman."  I pick on the worst examples, yes...but the point is solid.

2. God still performing miracles through a Christian. Nope. Does God perform miraculous healing? Yes (more on that later). Does God do it through a charismatic and lively fellow dancing about and with a vigorous cadence proclaiming the power he's brought upon your diabetes? Nope. Again, for the same reason the article provides for the prevailing lack of miracles- that there is no purpose for them now.

Ok, so moving on to the important points.

Miraculous happenings in the world today: Yes, they happen.

But let's define that.

When you cut yourself on a piece of rusty metal, and you would otherwise get tetanus, become paralyzed, and die- God heals your body. In fact, through the science God gave us and the world He created He's given our doctors the ability to prepare your body to fight tetanus ahead of time, so 7 or 8 years later, you can still fight that disease! Your body remembers how, and it effectively battles the disease, bringing you back to health again.
I could go on- what about how your body fights a common cold, or how your hearing adapts to loud and soft music, or how you experience the awesomeness of the seasons and the temperatures and all creation like it's the brand new show in town because you pass from one place to another so you forget what the last was like. Who hasn't experienced the awesomeness of that first fall smell and, knowing that it has happened many times before, yet rejoiced at the beauty of it. God made your body that way. We were made to never run out of wonder.
And what of one of the most amazing acts of God - the birth of a child! Could you pray that two people together could create a microscopic life that could, over the process of mere months and years, grow into a man, 6'1 and 250 pounds, full of individual thoughts and feelings and living, breathing, smelling, tasting, and enjoying the world around him? Tell me that isn't miraculous.
Let alone the existence of the rest of Creation. Look at butterflies and galaxies and hundreds of thousands of species of animals and tell me that's not miraculous.

Ah, but we sigh. We yawn. All that's just been there forever.

The problem is, we take all that for granted because science has decreed the laws and so, as cool as some of these things are, they're run by our demi-god chance. God set the watch for those, maybe, but they're not miraculous. They're "normal."

Excuse me? Trees turning into diamonds and caterpillars turning into butterflies and the cry of a newborn are normal?

The point is this: God is active in the world always, constantly, amazingly, beautifully, and thoroughly. If He weren't, we wouldn't be having this discussion. I wouldn't be laying by the doorway feeling a cool autumn breeze filtering through the screen, smelling the death of millions of leaves who head for the ground while others wait stored in their parent, awaiting birth next spring.

And on top of all that, God DOES sometimes take away terminal cancer in a night, or spare a man's leg, or see the doctor's prognosis on your lifespan and raise him an extra couple of years to live and love family and friends.

But you want to perform miracles? What is this, God's magic dispensary? Is the Holy Spirit your PEZ dispenser?

I say nothing (or not much, anyway) of the constant work of the Holy Spirit Himself- is it NOT miraculous and wonderful that He intercedes for our prayers since we do not know how to pray? Is it NOT miraculous and wonderful that we are SAVED in spite of ourselves, and indeed are made able to turn to God in spite of our utter sinfulness by the Spirit? Is the miracle of your wretched self predestined, called, justified, and glorified before the Father NOT an unparalleled wonder?

We need to understand- God is at work in the world, and He is at work in you, but through the use of the abilities He gave you to further His kingdom. He does not perform miracles or speak in tongues through you. He does not need to. He has given His Bible to the world and filled the earth to the brim with the knowledge of His existence, whether they admit it or not. The time for those signs is past. Glory in the present, in His Word, and in what you can do by His grace. Love Him for Salvation and your life. Serve Him. Truthfully.

The Art of Contentment: Why many Christians don't have it

During this past weekend I was blessed with the opportunity to work at a pro-life booth at the local fair. It was an amazing experience, and I plan on talking a lot more about it in further posts.

Today I want  to talk about the man I met on Friday night though, because though he is a stranger version, he is not that different from many people I've met over the years. He explained to me how Jesus appeared in a dream to him and told him he was to go to the fair and save souls. He and his sign told me how if I believed in God, I could have the power to heal others and speak in tongues and other such things.

I told him I didn't need those things.

Now, granted, that's not much of a theological argument. I could spend a long time going over the purpose of miracles and tongues in the Old Testament and in the New Testament up until the finishing of God's revelation. I could talk about how Biblical revelation is only ever the bringing of a new message from God, not telling your friend something you shouldn't have known about them, or speaking to someone with the vagueness of a horoscope about the problems in his/her life and how they need to repent. 

Ok, I did just talk about those. But I'm not going into them further. John MacArthur has a book called "Strange Fire" coming out soon, and many other well-known ministers have spoken to the theology better than I.

What I told him was the argument given to me through the words of N.D. Wilson across his two great books, "Notes from the Tilt-A-Whirl" and "Death by Living". If you want to completely change/renew/expand the way you view life and creation with joy and thankfulness, read these two books.

One quote from Death by Living in particular stuck out to me as I read it a couple days after the exchange between me and that man.

"Every rock is spoken by the Word. Every time I touch a stone, I am touching the Voice of God. Every cell of me is crafted by that artistry. My life is His breath. But we mortals grow numb. We want to feel more. And so we add MSG to our earthly brands of holiness.
The evangelical worship leader bounces on stage with his eyes shut, thumping his T-shirted breast - pushing, pushing, pushing people to feel as the chords progress. In Jerusalem, a freshly quarried rock is offered to pilgrims beneath trickling mystical smoke.
Lord, we flail. Forgive the lies we tell from purple thrones on TBN. Forgive the lies we tell in shrines. Forgive our every attempt at self-redemption, the holy efforts we call our own, all the clawing we call resurrection." -Death by Living."

If I could have handed a piece of paper to that man, I would have cut this out of the book and given it to him. He needed it more than I - I've known this much of my life, though putting it to words and really KNOWING it came with the reading (and re-reading) of the book.

That man was, all other labels aside, bored with God. 

Think about it. He was sitting there, using a skeletal and muscular structure crafted to bear his weight, breathing in the air crafted JUST right to sustain human life and so many other types of created things. He was hearing the sounds of the fair, the craziness and bells and whistles and people and children laughing and couples being romantic. He was seeing the wide and beautiful variety of people going by. He was feeling the comfort of a chair to rest his old body in. He was no doubt tasting something he'd had for dinner, or had that day tasted something. If he bought it at the fair, odds are it was both too expensive and really tasty.

He was wearing clothing. What I mean to say by that is, it wasn't so burning hot that he couldn't bear it with clothes, and it wasn't so deathly freezing that he had to pile himself under a ton of reflective blankets. Why? Because our Maker put the Earth in just the right place to make sure that life was supported perfectly. We get to shiver a bit (or a lot, depending on location) in winter, and sweat and swim in summer, and all of that knowing that it won't ever get so unbearable that we perish on the spot (all proper preparations made of course).

And you know what's best of all- he, if he was a Christian, worshiping the God I know who gave us the Bible we read, would be saved for all eternity.

The beauty of creation. The miraculous wonder of life, as it is, in all its complexity from the vast black holes and galaxies (put there if nothing else for the beauty) down to the ants and the underwater creatures. Salvation from the damnation we all earned an uncountable number of times.

These are a few of my favorite things.

But for all that, he didn't have enough. I told him of my Christianity (not as thoroughly as I am here, unfortunately) and he told me my Christianity was "boring." 

Boring nothing. If you can look at life and the promise of salvation and still come away with "I want miraculous healing and special conversations directly with god and prophecies" then YOU, sir, are bored.

I told him a paraphrase of something I heard in a quote from Doug Wilson on his Youtube channel. I said, "Wanting to have the powers of faith healing and tongues and prophecies and all that...that's like if I were to hand you ten million dollars and you looked at me and said, 'I want a car, too!' God has SAVED me, and given me life in spite of everything. God's HOLY SPIRIT *made* me able to repent and turn to God when I would have turned. God's Holy Spirit is *constantly* interceding for me when I pray to God so that I don't bring down judgment on myself with my imperfect words and sinful thoughts. Christ DIED on the Cross. And on top of all that, I'm alive and creation and life are BEAUTIFUL!" 

Even for those who have little and who suffer, there is beauty! (and sometimes they even notice it better than we do, by the grace of God) 

How can we read parts of the Bible like the end of Romans 8 (or indeed the whole book of Romans) and not fall down laughing tearfully in joy at the immense awesomeness of what God has given us? And this man wants MORE? This man wants God to keep giving him revelations, when God finished His Revelation? This man wants powers from God so he can heal people?

How often are we like this man, so tired of our lives and tired of our worship because it's too old and slow, or doesn't have the notes and tunes we like, and so we say "we need more emotion!" and so change our songs? How often do we trade the true character of God cast in the simple beautiful melodies of older centuries for the restless repetitive cotton candy music of today's contemporary church? Where have the Psalms gone? (sacrificed on the altar of postmodernism)

I understand the numbness. I have been and still remain a perpetrator of the sin which is the product of boredom which leads to rebellion. God is opening my eyes to the beauty so that I am less bored, so that I do not seek to take what is not mine and to fill voids that have not been filled yet by God. 

We ought to live our lives fully, run our races freely, and expend every breath with the full exertion of an athlete in the 100-meter dash, knowing that the path is longer but there are rests along the way, and really awesome trophies at the end. We ought to be so thankful that the Word of God, the salvation through Christ, the freedom of predestination, and the perfect promise of eternity are all that we need to live joyful and wait with bated breath for death and the journey upward!

His boredom will, I'm afraid, be the death of what faith he may have once had.

Quote from N.D. Wilson, and a blog about stories. (1st of a number of interactions with quotes from Wilson's new book)

"I am often asked why I write fiction for children. Because those whom I am called to feed are still children. Because I am still a child. Because the world is big, and the world is wonderful, but it is also terrifying. It is an ocean full of paper boats. And for many children, the only nobility, the only joy, the only strength and sacrifice that they see first-hand- that they see enfleshed- comes in fiction. Imagined friends and heroes can shape loves and loyalties and choices as much (or more) as real ones. Even when children have plenty of joy in their lives, good stories reinforce it. And I write for children because I have read more than my fair share of adult ideas set out and explained by adult thinkers and theologians, philosophers and pundits, and I may as well admit that I have been more influenced (as a person) by my childhood readings of Tolkien and Lewis, and by those moments listening to tales of Tiny Tim, and by that stack of pages my father handed me about an imaginary goblin war, than by any idea books that I read in college and grad school. The events and characters in Narnia and Middle Earth shaped my ideals, my dreams, my loyalties, and my goals. Kant just annoyed me."
-A lengthy excerpt from "Death By Living: Life is Meant to Be Spent" by N.D. Wilson.


I  love this book, and the quote in particular here really stuck out to me, for a couple of reasons. Both reasons have to do with it being very true, though one is perhaps more so true for me than for others.
First then: This is true for me because it ALMOST exactly mirrors my own experience. While I do occasionally enjoy a good dig into a philosophical or theological mine, burrowing amid the thick verbiage and brushing aside heavy phrases in search of nuggets of wisdom, the fact is that I much more enjoy, and much more learn from, stories. If C.S. Lewis's "Surprised by Joy" had simply been theological treatises, I would have yawned and closed the book halfway through. It was the story that filled the pages that made the theology live, walk, and speak into my ear as a friend the truths I would gain. (Though let it be noted that even so the theological bits were questioned well on entry into my mind)
The need and the power of story is a reality that is true more and more for all of our generation, a fact that Christian churches are finally waking up to (though for the most part their responses are weak, if not wrong). We learn from stories. Stories are, in fact, made to teach lessons to us.
It's perhaps more obvious when we're dealing with fairy tales and children's books. The Cat in the Hat and so many other children's stories are full of morals and lessons. But so, too, are all stories- some just hide it better than others. Harry Potter may not teach your child that magic spells are real and can be used- but if it does, it is not through the foolishness of the child who failed to discern the difference between fiction and reality. It's through the foolishness of the author who made a story in which good people use, and need, magic to accomplish the work of good.
On the other hand, Harry Potter could also teach you that fighting evil is a difficult business filled with tragedy and serious effort, and that love and sacrifice (thoroughly Christian values) will always triumph over evil. In creating a Christ-like narrative of sacrificing one's life for others to defeat the power of the devil, and then returning to destroy him, Harry Potter could very well familiarize many children with the story of Christ before they ever hear it from a preacher.
I am neither condemning nor advocating for the reading of Harry Potter to children- I'm simply illustrating the point that stories teach. The more you're aware of this, the more you will awaken to the good lessons and absorb them, and the more you will (hopefully) recognize and reject the bad lessons.
And that is where the other truth comes in, one that I think we can all agree with. Stories teach, and that makes choice of story and the weight of responsibility on the author all the more important. It is not enough for a Christian to write a story, or a poem, or make a movie. That story, poem or movie MUST convey a Christian morality, must portray the world in real terms, and must speak whether overtly or indirectly of a God that matches the Christian one. Because our stories teach children, and they are very, very impressionable.
More important even than that is the weight of responsibility on parents, teachers, and all others who are involved in the raising of children. Satan is quite busy in the world in his efforts to subvert God's people through the use of story. There are lies all around us, clothed in likable characters and simplistic love stories. It is not simply enough that we allow and introduce stories to children - they must be good stories, stories that will shape and will grow. Not stories that will lead astray and tear down.
Finally, it is important that we are aware of the stories that WE are fed with. No matter who you are, your ideas and beliefs ARE shaped by stories. You may read something and recognize it as false, but to recognize it you have to be looking. Will you fill your life with stories about fake and misleading love between unrealistic people and so in time breed contempt for the gift of the love story you are living? Will you read stories about characters who, while "nice" and "good," are living lives entirely and cheerfully against the will of God? Is it enough for a story to be "better than most of Hollywood" or should we require it to be great?
Whatever your answer, it cannot be enough to simply feed on stories indiscriminately.

My 3rd pro-life poem. Can't think of a name for it though

I was looking at the "tiny baby feet" pin at Life Cycle Books and got inspired to write this poem. Let me know what you think.

Two feet tiny, toes now stubby

Knit with love and formed to grow

One heart beating, thumping, needing

Life from all this baby knows

Two hands feeling, fingers flexing

Finding newness all around

One soul living, loved and lovely

Bides within this body sound

Two eyes clenched for that first birthday

That would see a life so whole

One nose built for cakes and flowers

Waits to smell the world in full

Two days left but he’s not knowing

That his life is near its end

One decision, made so poorly

Will his soul from earth now rend

Two hands push a syringe, sickly

Sending silent senseless death

One cord bearing not nutrition

But the stuff that stops his breath

Two arms flailing, thrashing, failing

Reach for freedom feet away

One heart falters, fumbles, ailing

One mouth frowns his last dismay

Two hearts beating, four lungs breathing

Used to echo and repeat

One heart ends, no anger seething

In that boy you’ll never meet

Two lives broken, one forever

In these sterile, lifeless rooms

One life wealthy, rich from murder

From each baby’s helpless doom

Two paths given, one life taken

Stops his heart and kills his hope

Naught for her but guilt now crushing

With a lifetime left to cope

God protect those formed and precious

Save them from their young demise

And redeem the world so broken

Come thou Lord, so we may rise

Texas victories, pro-abort absurdities

In a small victory for the pro-life movement today:
http://www.foxnews.com/politics/2013/07/13/texas-senate-poised-to-vote-on-abortion-measure/

I'm thrilled with this victory, which although it does not achieve our final goal of banning abortions altogether, is a step in the right direction. I particularly like that it places large financial burdens (hopefully financially crippling) on current and future abortion centers. Given what the Gosnell trial and many other cases have brought to light recently, I don't think anyone with a shred of regard for the health and life of women should be able to protest something that obviously protects their health like this. But, then, maybe some activists are so in favor of abortion that they don't care how it's done- they just want people to be able to kill babies when convenient.

Interacting with the information in the link:

1. "House Bill 2 would require doctors to have admitting privileges at nearby hospitals, allow abortions only in surgical centers, limit where and when women may take abortion-inducing pills and ban abortions after 20 weeks. Only five out of 42 existing abortion clinics meet the requirements to be a surgical center, and clinic owners say they can't afford to upgrade or relocate."

This all sounds quite reasonable to me. Being able to admit patients to a nearby hospital? Having a high standard for health protection in places where abortions do happen? Making sure women aren't just sent home to take abortion pills and left to deliver the dying baby into a toilet? Seems pretty downright reasonable. Makes you wonder why the "pro-women's rights" side is all in a huff. Probably because of the last sentence, but like I said earlier- you would THINK they'd be all for laws that protect women's health given how many rich opportunistic "doctors" have been running these operations to make easy cash while employing, for instance (in the case of Gosnell), a 15-year-old to apply anesthesia.

2. They introduced amendments to add exceptions for cases of rape and incest and to remove some of the more restrictive clauses, but Republicans dismissed all of the proposed changes.

Well, given that most of the bill has to do with the health standards in the facility performing the abortion, I really don't think it would matter what the source of the pregnancy is. Of course, logically it doesn't matter the source of the pregnancy in terms of the value of the human life growing in the womb either.

In the end, this is only a small victory. It does represent a trend in the right direction, though, and drawing the line back 4 weeks will mean that more babies will survive because more women will not have decided by the 20th week. Further, it brings important information to light, such as that babies feel pain at 20 weeks. One can hope and pray that this information will enter the minds of many pro-aborts and change their minds. (As a side note, I think it could be considered ironic that vegetarians are primarily liberal and argue that it's wrong to cause pain to animals- consider that some semi-vegetarians will eat fish because they don't feel pain- but many of them are completely fine with killing the pain-capable child within their bodies).

Further, I think this demonstrates a powerful new option for pro-lifers (though I'm sure it's not entirely new) - that is, that we can and should attack the economic foundation of abortion centers in very reasonable and important ways. Defunding Planned Parenthood is one way. Another way is to continue to raise and enforce the health standards and restrictions on clinics so that evil pseudo-doctors don't set these clinics up to make tons of money. After all, many pro-aborts have argued that by legalizing abortion they were just saving the health of women who were getting back-alley abortions before. You would THINK they'd want high standards of cleanliness and licensed people doing the work.
Maybe by hitting them in the wallet the clinics will fall one by one, making it so difficult to get an abortion that more women will choose to carry the baby and then offer him/her for adoption- an excellent option in all cases. 

In the end this is God's battle, and our job as Christians is to be His tools on earth to save every child we can, and preach to the hearts and minds of the lost and pray that He will redeem them soon.

Who am I? Reflections on commanded comfort

"Awake, awake, put on strength, O arm of the Lord; Awake as in the days of old, the generations of long ago. Was it not You who cut Rahab in pieces, who pierced the dragon? Was it not you who dried up the sea, the waters of the great deep; Who made the depths of the sea a pathway for the redeemed to cross over? So the ransomed of the Lord will return and come with joyful shouting to Zion, and everlasting joy will be on their heads. They will obtain gladness and joy, and sorrow and sighing will flee away.
I, even I, am He who comforts you. 
Who are you that you are afraid of man who dies and of the son of man who is made like grass. 
That you have forgotten the Lord your Maker who stretched out the heavens and laid the foundations of the earth. 
That you fear continually all day long because of the fury of the oppressor, as he makes ready to destroy? But where is the fury of the oppressor? 
The exile will soon be set free, and will not die in the dungeon, nor will his bread be lacking.
For I am the Lord your God, who stirs up the sea and its waves roar (the Lord of hosts is His name). 
I have put My words in your mouth and have covered you with the shadow of My hand, to establish the heavens, to found the earth, and to say in Zion, 'You are my people'"

I, even I, am He who comforts you. 
Who are you that you are afraid of man who dies and of the son of man who is made like grass. 


I, even I, am He who comforts you.
We go through many long, hard, terrible difficulties in our lifetime. We lose friends, we lose family, we hurt them and are hurt by them, and from our first breath until our last in this life we are perpetrators and victims of the sin that has warped us in this very broken world. It is tragically undeniable that our lives cannot be entirely perfect happiness. 
When I was younger, if I was injured I went to my parents for comfort. If I was scared, or sad, or just had a bad day overall, my parents, my friends, my family were usually able to provide some sort of comfort. But there are events in our lives in which the comfort of others falls very far short- life-altering, foundation-shaking events, like the loss of those parents who were that comfort, or the loss of the spouse who was half of your whole, or the great tragedies that are etched forever in our minds that happen around the world and close to home. 
Who do we turn to in those times? An "I'm sorry" and "anything we can do to help" are good comfort, and are welcome from those we know and even those we don't. Yet, on the battlefield amid ten thousand flying possibilities of death, where the ground erupts death and the wind screams death and there is death on the faces of those around us, what is our comfort? 
What is our only comfort in life and death?
Not that I am my own. Not that my gun, my hands, my brain, my emotions, my can-do attitude, my sales ability, or my instincts will save me. Those are all here today and gone tomorrow, grass in a furnace ready to be consumed and destroyed to make room for a new wave of ephemeral things, droplets in an ocean, significant and yet minute. 
My muscles can only lift a couple hundred pounds. My mind can only process so many thoughts, invent so many reactions. My hands can only type so fast and work so hard.
No, our only comfort in life and death is that we are not our own, but belong both body and soul, in life and in death, to our faithful Savior Jesus Christ. That not a hair can fall from our head apart from His will. That ten thousand can fall at our side and yet we are preserved. 
If a bomb went off in this very apartment right now, I *could* survive it unscathed. Men have walked out of hotter furnaces. If a hungry bear were to find me while I'm out in the woods, I could escape alive. Hungrier beasts have had their appetite quieted while the main course mocks from above. (Assuming, of course, no preceding insults toward passing prophets on my part)
There is NOTHING that can possibly happen between Heaven and Sheol apart from the knowledge of our Creator, the Lord God. He stretched out that expanse. He knows it intimately. He knows waterfalls and mountains and galaxies beyond all our knowing as well as He knows the depths of our hearts, our  thoughts (hidden and unhidden), and the state of our souls. He knows His plans, who He will graft and who He will prune. 
We KNOW that Christ is our great high priest, the perfect mediator who is without sin and yet *KNOWS* exactly what we go through when we are tempted. He *KNOWS* what it is to be tempted, and indeed has BEEN tempted far worse than any of us ever have. 
He knows the tragedy of death and the grief of loss, and has shed tears when a loved one has moved on. He's even raised that loved one back to life.
We have every reason in the world, literally, to cast all our cares upon the Lord. We have *every* reason to rely on Him for everything, from each daily breath to the fact that our cities will not be covered in molten lava or a world-ending flood anytime soon. We must know, given the evidence, that those loved ones that pass on while believing in Him are only passing through the stable to travel further up and further in, onward flying joyously toward that endless summer holiday. 

Yet, we would more often than not prefer to cast our cares upon...ourselves. To worry about tomorrow in spite of today's cares. To be clear, I am not saying that we should not store up our harvest in storehouses for the coming winter, nor that we should not be careful and stewardly and use the tools given us by God for the purpose of affecting the care of ourselves and those around us to do their God-given task. But I am saying that our every breath, our every effort, our every exertion and plan and thought and intent and deed, should be done in the knowledge that it is begun and carried through and finished by the God who made us able to do what we did. We must know that the cause of each action and its result is already known, a story written by the Author which we often only see after the words are written, while we're dithering about somewhere in the epilogue. 
We MUST...be comforted.
“Who are you that you are afraid”
The imperative nature of this phrase strikes me because it runs very counter to the inclination of our natural instinct. We prefer to do it ourselves. We want to conquer the mountain on our own, win the medal, receive the accolades. Fix the problem. Heal the person. We prefer fruit over following.
I think that in Isaiah 51:17 God is reminding us that we MUST...be comforted. Taking comfort is not solely the action of a child, nor our very last resort after we’ve tried everything else. We MUST be comforted in the power and the majesty and the glory and the grace and the goodness of the Lord our God, He who is “I AM,” a name that requires no further explanation because He IS. 
In this context while it is absolutely tragic and horrible when one’s children are all slain, one’s goods and servants all stolen, and one’s health degrades near to the point of the death, it is nevertheless absolutely critical that we are COMFORTED by the power of our God, and TRUST in Him. No amount of scraping and debate can change the facts of our utter downfall and loss. Only the Lord who formed our every cell and organ, who breathed into our lungs so that they beat, only He can return what is gone. Only he can heal what is diseased. 
Only He can take us from the black despair of loss into the bright springtime sunlight of life renewed. 
To be sure, it is no small thing to have that trust, to give up the ultimate end of the game knowing your dice simply cannot land on the right numbers. In the depths of our despair, in the midst of our great crises, we are akin to a child at the worst of his fever, when the whole world has gone dark and the sun cannot possibly rise again. 
Yet it does rise. The winter breaks and flowers come again. Our lungs clear up and our heads cool down and life is renewed. 
The tombstone rolls away and the dead once more live.
Our God is unimaginably great and powerful. Every single thing in the world is here as a result of His intent, His constant will that His words retain their form. And He loves us. He died for us, and has performed every single impossible thing we can possibly think of. Not one thing that we accomplish can ever compare to the weight of His glory and majesty. He does not need to give to us- we have given nothing so that He might owe us- and yet He DOES GIVE. He who did not spare His own Son but gave Him up for us all will surely with Him yet give us all things. 
This is not prosperity gospel. This is not faith for funds. God is not our servant, and yet God *is* able to give His people all that He desires to give them, and He wants us to pray to Him, to seek first His kingdom and His righteousness. He WILL add all the things we need unto us if we do so. As our works are committed to the Lord our thoughts ARE established. 
We MUST trust Him.
We MUST serve Him.
We MUST be comforted by Him.
Oh what a comfort that the reason for our being is here, now, requiring our trust. Take His hand - He knows the way, and you will not stumble. 
Have faith.

Romans 8. 
But in all these things we overwhelmingly conquer through Him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, will be able to separate us from the Love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. 

Excerpts of Job
"Have you ever in your life commanded the morning, and caused the dawn to know its place, that it might take hold of the ends of the earth, and the wicked be shaken out of it?"
"Who has cleft a channel for the flood, or a way for the thunderbolt, to bring rain on a land without people, on a desert without a man in it, to satisfy the waste and desolate land and to make the seeds of grass to sprout?"
"Do you know the ordinances of the heavens, or fix their rule over the earth?"
"Will you really annul My judgment? Will you condemn me that you may be justified? Or do you have an arm like God, and can you thunder with a voice like His?"
"Who has given to me that I should repay him? Whatever is under the whole heaven is Mine."
Then Job answered the Lord and said, "I know that You can do all things, and that no purpose of Yours can be thwarted."

Romans 11: Oh the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are His judgments and unfathomable His ways! For who has known the mind of the Lord, or who became His counselor? Or who has first given to him that it might be paid back to Him again? For from Him and through Him and to Him are all things. To Him be the glory forever. Amen. 

Stories Pt. 2

I have a fascination with reading stories, but I am not much of a storyteller. Or, to be more specific, I am a very prolific and hard-working storyteller, but I'm afraid I don't put a lot of time and effort into the details of my own story.

Perhaps because I know the ending of the story I'm telling, I'm less motivated to put work into the plot and the character development. On most days I spend a fair amount of time hoping for a plot device to enter the narrative, whisking away some defining struggle. At those critical moments, those great crises that really grab at the heart and define the future of my story, I have to admit I'd often rather jump to the last page. How does this story end?

We are all storytellers, of course. Each of us crafts an epic novel over a period of minutes, days and years. Our stories are constantly read by others, critiqued by others, and face that dreaded reread at the end of the day. Some days I just close the book and throw away the editing pen. On other days, this rough draft carries some heavy red ink.

What does the main character in your story sound like? We all write with the intent of building a protagonist, or at least a sympathetic character. You may be a victim or you may be an oppressor (justified, of course, by the faulty narratives of others). At some point your story will include comedy, tragedy, drama, action, romance, and perhaps even horror. How will your main character react? How will his reactions be read by others?

One inescapable fact of our stories is that they will be read by others. We can attempt to limit the types of readers who will interact with and give input to our plot, but in the end both the cultured and the uncultured, the wise and the foolish, and the Godly and ungodly will encounter our story and interact with it. What will their reactions be? How do they see my story?

I certainly don't always want them to read my story, and there are bits here and there, elements of my character's development and events which they need not all be privy to. However, it cannot be denied that when my story unfolds in the public eye at times, its impact must be understood. A bold-labeled Christian story left open before the eyes of the unbelieving ought not therefore to read as though it had fallen off the pop fiction shelf and been dragged through a sea of profanity on the way to the reading desk. Words have an impact, and the story of my life makes changes both grand and minute in the sentences and paragraphs of authors around me every day. A jovial mood may inspire many stories to lighten up, whereas my character's anger may sour and make bitter or angry the stories around me.

I hope soon that my story will have a co-author, but just to be clear, I'm not shopping for a ghostwriter. A good few editors have made their mark on my story along the way, and it has surely benefitted from their input, but I'd be foolish to throw away my pen. Any man who would dictate a story through the pen of another writer cannot deserve credit for the outcome of his life.

We live in a perpetual rough draft, a compendium of ten million short stories that form the saga of our whole life. To be sure, some of our early writings are our worst, and we're thankful that we have a couple much more experienced editors along for that ride. They let us know when the main character needs to develop, and their guidance helps make a masterpiece out of a children's book. Someday I look forward to editing and helping to write a few new books myself.

It's something of a terrifying thought, though, bringing new stories into the world. Those first words, that beginning sentence, initiate what will, Author willing, be another lengthy novel. There are so many considerations, so many chances to make a mistake. Too much red ink might drown out the narrative, and too much control of the story might make the characters uncreative. Perhaps more terrifying is the fact that those stories aren't entirely in my hands, or even theirs.

Through all this, however, there is one reason why I do not fear setting my pen down at the end of each day; one reason why I do not fear even sometimes setting it aside in the middle of an important plot twist. That reason is the Author, who knows and has seen the beginning and the end of mine and every other story in the world. What greater comfort can there be than to know that no matter how great the conflict, no matter what climactic event may cast my character about and threaten his strength, even so the conclusion has already been reached. It has even been promised.

So I write, not for myself, and not solely for the reading of other writers. Rather, I write primarily for the Author, seeking to mirror with my pencil the fine calligraphy of His masterful strokes. I seek to write my story in ways  that please the Author, and trust and have peace in the knowledge that he will perfect my character through his editing. I write each story with all the emotions and much of the uncertainty that all this world's authors do, but I know the ending. It's a really uplifting, inspiring one. I won't be the hero though, and the victory certainly won't be achieved by my means - there has been, is, and will be serious divine intervention involved in my plot. I have no problem with this, though, because at the end of the day I know that I cannot write a perfect story.

That is for my Author and Lord to accomplish.

Stories Pt. 1

Note: This was stylistically inspired by the book "Notes from the Tilt-A-Whirl" by N.D. Wilson (which everyone should go out and read and then watch the DVD)

I have a fascination with stories. I like anecdotes, and I like epic sagas. I'm interested in happy stories, sad stories, scary stories, stories with meaning, and most of all stories that can play out on a little film reel in my head.

Sometimes as I drive, or sit in the food court at the mall, or fly above the earth at 38000 feet across a country of millions, I try to imagine stories occurring around me. When a frowning middle-aged man with a gut walks past, is he just a man in mid-life crisis? An angry boyfriend of an unhappy woman? Perhaps he's a man with a troubled teenage daughter who he loves, but who has made some bad decisions. Perhaps he's normally a cheerful, witty man, but today he spilled his coffee on his shirt or stubbed his toe. Maybe the series of events that led up to his coffee spill were the sort that will read well in a book he writes, or lift spirits at his next party. Maybe there was a near-death experience, or a life saved (his or that of a child- this story could be inspiring or involve frivolous lawsuits). 

I doubt I'd do well to ask him the story now. His disposition promises more rain than sunshine, his words more likely to be foul than fair. But I still wonder.

My grandfather cut off his finger (at least) three times during his decades as a carpenter/woodworking genius. I think it was the same finger. Guys find this sort of thing amusing, ironic. I once had my thumb shut in a sliding minivan door for a good minute before the door was unlocked and my purplish thumb released. Now it's a war story to compete with others among a group of friends who have suffered broken limbs, dangerous allergies, concussions, and any number of other painful events in their past. We laugh, we wince, we try to paint greater tales with each passing minute. This scar came from an unfortunate tumble down the stairs. That bruise came from fighting off a pack of lions.

Enter a comedy on the food court stage - young suburban kids bedecked in gear that is supposed to represent the poor and underprivileged. 

What are their stories?

Are they fools acting tough and distant from the world, looking to score drugs or pick up women? Are these dissonant notes in the middle of a symphony? Ink spatters on a Davinci masterpiece?

Are they young men carrying a fashionable image (one sort of fashion anyway) that they like, but whose cultural associations they do not identify with? Are they just trying to fit in? Perhaps they listen to 50 Cent and Eminem in the car with their friends, but turn on the classical music when no one's around, and dream of performing solos of Bach and Handel's great choral works.

One guy has his pants hanging low. I think I know his story. I sneer at the fiction I've just written. It is a story unfit for the pages being written all around him. It belongs in the "pop" section at best, or perhaps it ought not to have been published at all. Will these pages do anything but steal ink from the rest of us? 

 Maybe he helped lift groceries into the car for an elderly lady and his well-worn belt snapped from the effort.

What is your story? What stories play into your life? What was your worst injury, your funniest joke, your first kiss, taste of candy, or ride at the amusement park? 

 What is the story you tell with your walk, with your emotions, with your expressions, with your actions? Does it fit with the first draft you composed this morning? Are you producing and directing a box office hit, an artistic masterpiece, or will this one go straight to DVD? What will the critics say? What will the Critic say?

 My stories are all bestsellers you know. They're all 100% original. They're very dramatic, very artistic. My tragedies call forth rivers of tears, my dramas gain sympathy and understanding, and my comedies produce the best laughs.

That is, if anyone actually took the time to read them.

I frown as I walk through the mall. I'm remembering a mistake I made last week at work. Before I know it the audience knows me as an angry character. No doubt I'd be the guy picking the fight, the example made by the hero. 

 Who made the casting decisions? I was supposed to play the conflicted hero with a complex past. My performance is nuanced. Everyone will love me as soon as I reach Starbucks.

The world has 7 billion novels, each of them with somewhere between one and a million chapters. Do you like reading? I'm usually more of a picture book guy, but I'm getting a lot more interested in words.

Who is the person next to you in the elevator? Why is she wearing mismatched socks? Who's helping take care of her baby now that her husband died serving in the military?

Who are you? 

Tell me a story.