The Sacred in the Secular

Watching Harry Potter to the Glory of God

2011-11-12T17:36:00.000-08:00

I just wrote a review of Jared Moore's Harry Potter Bible Study on Amazon. You can find it here: http://www.amazon.com/review/RE7GQW8ZTWW9K/ref=cm_cr_dp_perm?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B0063AXQ70&nodeID=133140011&tag=&linkCode=

Why Bob Didn't Call It a Snake

2011-05-24T11:13:00.001-07:00

Here's a post I wrote on Bob Dylan's 70th Birthday about his song "Man Gave Name to All the Animals":
http://russreaves.blogspot.com/2011/05/why-bob-didnt-call-it-snake.html

On Appreciation for the Art of a Pagan

2011-05-24T10:32:00.000-07:00

Here's a post I wrote over on my other blog about how Christians can (and actually DO) appreciate the art produced by non-Christian artists: http://russreaves.blogspot.com/2011/05/on-appreciation-for-art-of-pagan.html

Truth is Stranger than Stranger Than Fiction

2009-07-11T22:41:00.000-07:00

(Spoiler Alert: This is not a film critique or review. It contains spoilers, giveaways about the major twists of plot and ending to the film. If you haven't seen it, and don't want me to ruin it for you, stop reading here. If you have seen it, don't plan on seeing it, or don't care about it being ruined, then read on.)

The old adage, "Truth is stranger than fiction," is so time-worn that it is nearly cliche. The story that is told in the film "Stranger than Fiction" is also time-worn, but will never be cliche. It is a story about a man who is going to die, but he doesn't know he's going to die. But then in a bizarre sort of way learns that he is going to die. And knowing that he is going to die changes the way he lives. OK, that part is cliche. It has even found its way into a country music song, confirming its cliche-ness. But there is more to this story. In fact, there is an old, old story that is written between the lines of this screenplay.

The film is billed as a comedy, and with Will Ferrell in the lead role one may expect that slapstick and sophomoric humor which has made him famous (not to mention wealthy). While the film is funny and lighthearted throughout, there are moments which do not feel comic at all. In one ironic scene, Harold Crick (played by Ferrell) learns the difference between comedy and tragedy from Professor Jules Hilbert (played by Dustin Hoffman): "In a tragedy you die, in a comedy you get hitched."

Karen Eiffel (played by Emma Thompson) is a renowned novelist with a decade long case of writer's block. Harold Crick is a tax auditor with a case of life block that is probably even longer. But the two develop a symbiotic relationship when Eiffel begins unknowingly telling Crick's story, and Crick can hear her telling it in his head. Crick learns from the narrator in his head that he is going to die. He doesn't know when or how, but is determined to figure out the mystery. When he meets Eiffel face-to-face, he pleads with her to change the ending, leaving her perplexed. Upon reading the first draft, Professor Hilbert claims that it mustn't be changed because it is the masterpiece of her stellar career. Crick must die just in the way that Eiffel has narrated.

Long story short, Crick doesn't die the way she narrated. In fact, he doesn't die at all. Oh sure, the events unfold just as she originally penned. Crick throws his life in front of a moving bus to save the life of a young boy. Viewers, like the bystanders on the curb, are certain that he is dead. Moments later, the scene shifts to the hospital where Crick is recovering in traction.

Herein is the Truth that is stranger than fiction. We are living out a grand story, a metanarrative being told by a Third-Person Omniscient. It is God's story. He knew how it would end before it began. And in God's story, the hero is not Crick but Christ. Like Eiffel's story in which Crick must die, in God's story Christ must die. But neither are tragedies in the end. For starters, both "died" sacrificially, laying their lives down to save another. Crick laid his life down in front of the bus to save the helpless boy in the street. Christ laid his life down on the cross to save helpless sinners. And secondly, death does not have the final word in either story. After meeting Crick, Eiffel changed the ending to her story. Crick in fact did not die, but received a second chance at a fulfilled life and a romantic love. Christ did die, but His death was not the end. Through His glorious resurrection He lives, offering all who come to Him a second chance at abundant life and divine love. God never changed the end of His story. The hero had to die, but death would be swallowed up in victory.

Upon reading the revised manuscript, Professor Hilbert asks Eiffel, "Why did you change the book?"

She responds, "Lots of reasons. I realized I just couldn't do it."

Hilbert questions, "Because he's real?"

And Eiffel states, "Because it's a book about a man who doesn't know he's about to die, and then dies. But if the man does know he's going to die and dies anyway, dies, dies willingly knowing he could stop it, then, I mean, isn't that the type of man you want to keep alive?"

After reading of his own death, Crick finds Eiffel on the street one evening and says, "It's lovely ... I read it, and I loved it, and there's only one way it can end. ... This seems simple enough. I love your book, and I think you should finish it." In other words, Crick has seen the way he will die, and he accepts it, knowing that it is a good way to go out, a poetic and beautiful way for his life to end, and that the result of his death will be great success for the author.

God's story, like Eiffel's is about a Man who is going to die. He knows He is going to die. He accepts the reality of His imminent death and says to the Author of His story, "It's lovely ... I read it, and I loved it, and there's only one way it can end. ... This seems simple enough. I love Your book, and I think You should finish it." In other words, Christ has seen the way He will die, and He accepts it, knowing it is a beautiful way to go out, laying His life down for sinners. And He knows the result will not be a Pulitzer Prize for the Author of His story, but glory (Compare John 17:1 and Hebrews 12:2 to what Crick said on the street). He knows He's going to die, and dies anyway, dies willingly knowing He could stop it. And He is in fact alive today, risen from death. Isn't He the type of Man, the type of God-Man, you want to be alive? He is. This is not fiction. It is stranger than that. It is Truth (John 14:6).

Green Grass and High Tides

2009-02-03T12:20:00.000-08:00

When it comes to music, the sky is the limit. I can dig everything from Gregorian Chants to New Wave; from Bach to Bachman Turner Overdrive. This rather large repertoire of music preferences makes any list on my iPod a bit of an oddity to the average consumer of music. One exercise in which I engage is to discover music or lyrics that have, either intentionally or unintentionally, a spiritual theme.

One song that I haven't been able to get out of my head of late is the classic rock song, Green Grass and High Tides, by Southern Rock band, The Outlaws. Contrary to popular belief, the song is NOT about marijuana use. The term, "green grass," in the title gave rise to this unfortunate rumor. Outlaws member, Henry Paul, explains the song's lyrics here.

Personally, the song reminds me of visions of a restored universe and eternity with Jesus Christ and the saints. Consider the lyrics:

In a place you only dream of
Where your soul is always free
Silver stages, golden curtains
Filled my head, plain as can be
As a rainbow grew round the sun
All the stars I've loved who died
Came from somewhere beyond the scene you see
These lovely people played just for me

Now if I let you see this place
Where stories all ring true
Will you let me past your face
To see what's really you
It's not for me to ask these questions
As though I were a king
For you have to love, believe and feel
Before the burst of tambourines take you there

Green grass and high tides forever
Castles of stone souls and glory
Lost faces say we adore you
As kings and queens bow and play for you
Those who don't believe me
Find your souls and set them free
Those who do, believe and love
As time will be your key
Time and time again I've thanked them
For the peace of mind
They helped me find myself
Amongst the music and the rhyme
That enchants you there

Green grass and high tides forever
Castles of stone souls and glory
Lost faces say we adore you
As kings and queens bow and play for you

Yeah, they play just for you

Billy Belk

Anyone Want to Get Expelled? Anyone? Anyone?

2008-11-25T10:06:00.001-08:00

Are you tired of liberals being the only ones who make "in your face" documentaries? Me too. That is why I was so excited about Ben Stein's film "Expelled." Two can play at this game, and Ben has raised the stakes.

I did not see this film in the theaters, because frankly I do not enjoy going to theaters to see movies. I know, I am goofy, and I don't even own one of those whopper TVs that make the images larger than life. But I prefer watching films in my own home, in my comfortable chair where I have plenty of room and where I can talk in audible levels to my companions and eat whatever I want without being charged a week's pay for a snack. I also like having beverages in containers which are actually sized for the human hand to hold and being able to pause the movie when I need to. So for all these reasons, DVDs are for me. I rented it from Netflix, and then immediately purchased a copy of it so I can loan it out to others and watch it repeatedly. I also wanted to support the filmmakers and the organization from which I purchased it, Answers in Genesis.

I should say up front that I do not endorse the cut and paste tactics of contemporary documentaries. I know that some important material invariably ends up on the cutting room floor, and I am sure that Expelled's critics are being accurate when they say that statements were included out of context and selectively arranged to further the point of the filmmaker. I am also not an advocate of slippery-slope arguments, which this film certainly employs. But at least in this case, the shoe was on the other foot and the tactics were employed to further a far different cause than in Michael Moore's or Al Gore's films. Funny that critics did not seem so adamant about these same concerns when those films came out.

I will also lay all my cards on the table here. I am a 6-literal day, young earth Creationist, and unashamed to say so. I know that labels me as a neanderthal in the minds of some, but I do not lose sleep over their judgment of me. I prefer to prioritize what God thinks of my handling of His word. I may never be asked to teach in a secular university because of those views, but I would rather maintain my convictions with a clear conscience than to be conformed by the patterns of this world's thinking. A professor friend once told me that although he believed the text of Genesis lends itself to a 6-literal day, young earth interpretation, he could not hold that position because it would ruin his academic credentials. I think that is a crying shame, because on all accounts this was stated by a top-notch scholar.

Expelled is not a propaganda piece for young-earth Creationism. It is not even an attempt to prove the truth of Intelligent Design. Ben Stein is not a Christian, and it is fair to say that he is probably not a young-earther. Rather, in Expelled, Stein sets out to uncover a bias against all anti-Darwinian approaches to the study of origins in higher education. This is done by interviewing scholars who have lost their credentials because of their commitment to alternative explanations of origins and interviewing those who are leading the charge of the New Atheism like Richard Dawkins.

Undoubtedly influenced by his Jewish heritage, Stein demonstrates how Darwinian thinking has fueled the most horrid attrocity in recent human history: the Holocaust. It would be a slippery slope to argue that every Darwinian is pro-Hitler. While I would not want to go so far as to say that all Darwinians espouse genocide, the film helps viewers to see how this kind of thinking makes such tragedies possible, and in fact greatly influenced it in one historic case.

The real issue at stake in Expelled is academic freedom. This is a touchy subject for many. After all, Southern Baptists have not exactly been poster children for academic freedom. During the conservative resurgence, professors were fired from SBC seminaries for teaching doctrines contrary to the Baptist Faith & Message. However, these institutions are confessional schools, which are entrusted by the denomination to train up leaders for its constituent churches. Within the rather broad confines of the Baptist Faith and Message, there is room for much diversity in the classroom. In my courses at one of the SBC seminaries, I had professors who held to a variety of positions on many issues. Not all were young-earth creationists; not all were of a particular school of thought when it comes to Calvinism or Arminianism; etc. But there is and should be some expectation that professors in confessional schools will not teach contrary to the confession of faith that they have been consituted to uphold. However, most secular universities do not have a confessional basis, and therefore, each professor's work should be allowed to stand or fall on their own merits. Expelled even indicts Baylor, a historically Baptist college, for disallowing the teaching of anti-Darwinian theories.

I would recommend this film to anyone who is interested in origins, Darwinism, and Intelligent Design, as well as those who are involved as teachers, administrators and students in higher education. My hope is that it will embolden a new generation of scholars to stand up for their own convictions and publish well-defended scholarly works that uphold the integrity of Scripture and refute Darwinian evolution. I also hope that this film will spawn others to go public with their own experiences of educational biases, and raise an outcry against such hypocritical narrow-mindedness. Regardless of our presuppositions or commitments, education should always stand in opposition to such.

Tangled Up in Dylan, Part 4: Cry a While

2008-07-21T14:36:00.001-07:00

This is one of those songs that has to be heard; reading the lyrics don't do it justice. It typifies the "new" Dylan sound of his later releases. This will be the last installment of "Tangled Up in Dylan" for a while, so jump into the comments and share some thoughts on the lyrics:

Well, I had to go down and see a guy named Mr. Goldsmith
A nasty, dirty, double-crossin', back-stabbin' phony I didn't wanna have to be dealin' with
But I did it for you and all you gave me was a smile
Well, I cried for you - now it's your turn to cry awhile

I don't carry dead weight - I'm no flash in the pan
All right, I'll set you straight, can't you see I'm a union man?
I'm lettin' the cat out of the cage, I'm keeping a low profile
Well, I cried for you - now it's your turn, you can cry awhile

Feel like a fighting rooster - feel better than I ever felt
But the Pennsylvania line's in an awful mess and the Denver road is about to melt
I went to the church house, every day I go an extra mile
Well, I cried for you - now it's your turn, you can cry awhile

Last night 'cross the alley there was a pounding on the walls
It must have been Don Pasquale makin' a two a.m. booty call
To break a trusting heart like mine was just your style
Well, I cried for you - now it's your turn to cry awhile

I'm on the fringes of the night, fighting back tears that I can't control
Some people they ain't human, they got no heart or soul
Well, I'm crying to The Lord - I'm tryin' to be meek and mild
Yes, I cried for you - now it's your turn, you can cry awhile

Well, there's preachers in the pulpits and babies in the cribs
I'm longin' for that sweet fat that sticks to your ribs
I'm gonna buy me a barrel of whiskey - I'll die before I turn senile
Well, I cried for you - now it's your turn, you can cry awhile

Well, you bet on a horse and it ran on the wrong way
I always said you'd be sorry and today could be the day
I might need a good lawyer, could be your funeral, my trial
Well, I cried for you, now it's your turn, you can cry awhile

Copyright © 2001 Special Rider Music

Columbia Records

Tangled Up in Dylan, Part 3: Property Of Jesus

2008-07-21T14:35:00.001-07:00

Here I offer up for discussion the lyrics of the 1981 "Shot of Love" single, "Property of Jesus":

Go ahead and talk about him because he makes you doubt,
Because he has denied himself the things that you can't live without.
Laugh at him behind his back just like the others do,
Remind him of what he used to be when he comes walkin' through.

He's the property of Jesus
Resent him to the bone
You got something better
You've got a heart of stone

Stop your conversation when he passes on the street,
Hope he falls upon himself, oh, won't that be sweet
Because he can't be exploited by superstition anymore
Because he can't be bribed or bought by the things that you adore.

He's the property of Jesus
Resent him to the bone
You got something better
You've got a heart of stone

When the whip that's keeping you in line doesn't make him jump,
Say he's hard-of-hearin', say that he's a chump.
Say he's out of step with reality as you try to test his nerve
Because he doesn't pay no tribute to the king that you serve.

He's the property of Jesus
Resent him to the bone
You got something better
You've got a heart of stone

Say that he's a loser 'cause he got no common sense
Because he don't increase his worth at someone else's expense.
Because he's not afraid of trying, 'cause he don't look at you and smile,
'Cause he doesn't tell you jokes or fairy tales, say he's got no style.

He's the property of Jesus
Resent him to the bone
You got something better
You've got a heart of stone

You can laugh at salvation, you can play Olympic games,
You think that when you rest at last you'll go back from where you came.
But you've picked up quite a story and you've changed since the womb.
What happened to the real you, you've been captured but by whom?

He's the property of Jesus
Resent him to the bone
You got something better
You've got a heart of stone

Copyright © 1981 Special Rider Music

Tangled Up in Dylan, Part 2: Shelter from the Storm

2008-07-21T14:33:00.000-07:00

In the comments section, I hope we can get a good discussion going on about the lyrics posted below. "Shelter from the Storm" was first released on the 1975 "Blood on the Tracks."

'Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood
When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

And if I pass this way again, you can rest assured
I'll always do my best for her, on that I give my word
In a world of steel-eyed death, and men who are fighting to be warm.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

Not a word was spoke between us, there was little risk involved
Everything up to that point had been left unresolved.
Try imagining a place where it's always safe and warm.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

I was burned out from exhaustion, buried in the hail,
Poisoned in the bushes an' blown out on the trail,
Hunted like a crocodile, ravaged in the corn.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

Suddenly I turned around and she was standin' there
With silver bracelets on her wrists and flowers in her hair.
She walked up to me so gracefully and took my crown of thorns.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

Now there's a wall between us, somethin' there's been lost
I took too much for granted, got my signals crossed.
Just to think that it all began on a long-forgotten morn.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

Well, the deputy walks on hard nails and the preacher rides a mount
But nothing really matters much, it's doom alone that counts
And the one-eyed undertaker, he blows a futile horn.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

I've heard newborn babies wailin' like a mournin' dove
And old men with broken teeth stranded without love.
Do I understand your question, man, is it hopeless and forlorn?
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

In a little hilltop village, they gambled for my clothes
I bargained for salvation an' they gave me a lethal dose.
I offered up my innocence and got repaid with scorn.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

Well, I'm livin' in a foreign country but I'm bound to cross the line
Beauty walks a razor's edge, someday I'll make it mine.
If I could only turn back the clock to when God and her were born.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

Copyright © 1974 Ram's Horn Music

Tangled Up in Dylan, Part 1: It Ain't Me Babe

2008-07-21T14:31:00.000-07:00

Jump into the comments and let's discuss what's going on in this song, first released on "Another Side of Bob Dylan" (1964):

Go 'way from my window,
Leave at your own chosen speed.
I'm not the one you want, babe,
I'm not the one you need.
You say you're lookin' for someone
Never weak but always strong,
To protect you an' defend you
Whether you are right or wrong,
Someone to open each and every door,
But it ain't me, babe,
No, no, no, it ain't me, babe,
It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe.

Go lightly from the ledge, babe,
Go lightly on the ground.
I'm not the one you want, babe,
I will only let you down.
You say you're lookin' for someone
Who will promise never to part,
Someone to close his eyes for you,
Someone to close his heart,
Someone who will die for you an' more,
But it ain't me, babe,
No, no, no, it ain't me, babe,
It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe.

Go melt back into the night, babe,
Everything inside is made of stone.
There's nothing in here moving
An' anyway I'm not alone.
You say you're looking for someone
Who'll pick you up each time you fall,
To gather flowers constantly
An' to come each time you call,
A lover for your life an' nothing more,
But it ain't me, babe,
No, no, no, it ain't me, babe,
It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe.

Copyright © 1964; renewed 1992 Special Rider Music

Tangled Up in Dylan: Introduction

2008-07-21T14:26:00.000-07:00

I have just finished reading Bob Dylan and Philosophy, edited by Peter Vernezze and Carl J. Porter, an installment in Open Court's "Popular Culture and Philosophy" series. Having read several volumes in this series, I found this one to be more engaging than the others. It seems to be truer to philosophical issues and to the subject (Dylan, in this case) than the other volumes I have read. Reading it has plunged me into the world of Dylan's music once again. I have gone through several "Dylan-phases" in my life, preferring earlier works, later works, acoustic works, electric works, at various points in the journey. Now I find myself enthralled by it all: the songs I resonate with, the songs I don't, and the ones I don't get (and there are plenty of them).

In the following several posts, I am going to paste some Dylan lyrics, and offer no commentary in the post. But what I would like to do is open the comments for a discussion on what is going on in the lyrics. Also, in the comments, if there are specific Dylan works you want to explore, suggest them and it will be done.

A Pastor's Anthem: I Won't Back Down

2008-06-19T11:07:00.001-07:00

Over ten years ago, the students of Fruitland Baptist Bible Institute were treated to a concert by Southern Gospel group Gold City on the campus. I still remember hearing them say that a well-known pastor who was undergoing much publicized trials and tribulations in ministry began every day listening to their song, "I'm Not Giving Up." The song goes like this:

I'm not giving up. I'm not turning 'round.
By the grace of God I'll win a shining crown someday.
I'll keep holding on to that nail-scarred hand.
I'm not giving up, no I'll keep going on.

Been walking through the valley
Through this vale of tears
At times I've even questioned even if my Lord was near
Then at times that ole' tempter says "Why not turn around?
You can't get any farther, because you're just losing ground."

I'm not giving up. I'm not turning 'round.
By the grace of God I'll win a shining crown someday.
I'll keep holding on to that nail-scarred hand.
I'm not giving up, no I'll keep going on.

Would you mind to tell me; there's been something botherin' me:
Why is it that ole' devil, he just won't let God's children be.
See he has purposed and determined to get right in the way
And turn us from the way of life
And lead our souls astray.

I'm not giving up. I'm not turning 'round.
By the grace of God I'll win a shining crown someday.
I'll keep holding on to that nail-scarred hand.
I'm not giving up, no I'll keep going on.

When I heard that song and the accompanying testimony, I was naive about the challenges of ministry. I thought, "My goodness, how bad can it be that someone would have to begin every day with that affirmation?" But soon enough, my idealism met the reality that is pastoral ministry. It is tempting, especially on Mondays and Thursdays to say, "Why don't I just throw in the towel?" And I just don't like Southern Gospel music enough to make myself listen to that song every day. But then along comes Tom Petty.

Who knew that Tom Petty was so sensitive to the concerns of Pastoral Ministry? Last night, on a late night run to Chic-Fil-A, "I Won't Back Down" popped up in the shuffle on my iPod. Maybe its because it was business meeting night, maybe its because several people took the liberty to try to tell me how I should preach and teach, maybe its because I spent a good deal of time talking with someone about the difference between doing "what's right" in ministry rather than doing "what works," or any number of other reasons (maybe I was just really tired), but this song came across to me as one that could have been (or maybe should have been) written by a pastor who is plugging along as faithfully as he can in spite of many obstacles. It could just as easily apply to a faithful Christian trying to follow the call to discipleship and witness in a fallen world. What I like about Petty's song is that (for understandable reasons) it does not force us to see Satan behind every attack. Sometimes "the world" (as the term is used often in Scripture to denote the ways of thinking that dominate this world) is our enemy. People, even church people, even pastors, are influenced by the world. And the one who tries to live hard for God will be dragged down and pushed around by the world. And there isn't any easy way out. "Pie in the sky" will only get you so far on a Monday or Thursday. We're better to remember the words of Petty: "There ain't no easy way out." Sometimes it just takes raw determination to say, "I won't back down," in the face of the gates of hell and the threats of this world.

"I Won't Back Down" by Tom Petty

Well I won't back down
No I won't back down
You could stand me up at the gates of Hell
But I won't back down
No I'll stand my ground
Won't be turned around
And I'll keep this world from draggin' me down
Gonna stand my ground
And I won't back down.

Hey, baby. There ain't no easy way out.
Hey yeah, I will stand my ground.
And I won't back down.

Well I know what's right
I got just one life
In a world that keeps on pushin' me around
But I'll stand my ground
And I won't back down.

Hey, baby. There ain't no easy way out.
Hey yeah, I will stand my ground.
And I won't back down.

Hey, baby. There ain't no easy way out.
Hey yeah, I won't back down
Hey, baby. There ain't no easy way out.
Hey yeah, I will stand my ground
And I won't back down.

In the Presence of the Lord: Clapton's God

2008-04-09T09:55:00.001-07:00

Slowhand himself would quickly refute the author of this graffiti. And he would take no offense to what this dog is doing to the graffiti-emblazoned wall. He might even join the dog. That's the impression I get of Clapton from reading this interesting feature by CT's John Powell about the spiritual side of Eric Clapton. It is an interesting read, though it stops short of saying what some of us would hope to read in such an article.

One correction -- Powell says, "the man whose work with a Gibson Les Paul." Clapton is not known for playing a Les Paul, but rather a Stratocaster. I think every picture I've ever seen of him depicts him with a Strat. What would otherwise be a compelling article is somewhat diminished by such an obvious error on the writer's part.

Rare picture of Clapton with a Les Paul (notice the body of the guitar is only cut away on the bottom, and a switch is on the top):

Typical images of Clapton with a Strat (notice the double cut away of the guitar's body):

California Dreamin'

2008-02-15T06:57:00.001-08:00

Stumbled upon a post today by Michael A. G. Haykin, History Professor at Southern Seminary, about his personal reflections on The Mamas and The Papas' song, "California Dreamin'."

Architecture Revisited

2008-01-30T10:04:00.001-08:00

Several of my posts here have addressed the often overlooked artform of architecture. Maybe it is because I used to love playing with Legos (Used to? I still do!), or because at one time I entertained notions of being an architect. Mostly, though, I think it is because of my disdain for contemporary church architecture that I find myself ruminating on the subject nowadays. Slate Magazine brings us this article about avant-garde architecture that is dotting the skylines of Arab nations and China.

It is an interesting phenomenon that Slate brings to mind -- the inability of humans to predict the future of cultural expressions. Undoubtedly, these buildings are influenced by at least three underlying desires: 1) the desire to be different; 2) the desire to be futuristic; 3) the desire to escape the bounds of the current status quo. However, what is often overlooked in these ventures is that if everyone desires to be different, then everyone ends up being the same. The person who is truly different is the one who doesn't mind "playing by the rules." So, buildings with classical architectural features are always more awe-inspiring than the "avant-garde" because we value the "sameness" that the architect was willing to preserve in his design. Also, when one examines the attempts of previous generations to be "futuristic" one sees a laughable product of ignorant prognostication which in fact never came to pass. For the best illustration of this, one only needs to watch an old re-run of the Jetsons to see what the creative minds of bygone days thought our century would look like. Across the world, designs that portended to be futuristic in their day dot the landscape, mostly being an eyesore. Some at best are nostalgic reminder of a former generations hopes and dreams. Finally, how does one escape the status quo when the status quo is escaping the status quo? This is the problem of postmodernism. If everyone gets to invent their own rules, their own "truth," their own categories, then how does one truly find a way to revolt against it? A simple suggestion -- we must return to objective reality and objective Truth (with a capital "T").

Perhaps Witold Rybczynski, the writer of Slate's article "Don't Count Your Titanium Eggs Before They've Hatched: Why Architects Can't Predict the Future" is trying to make the same point when he concludes the article with this statement: "The real question about new buildings should never be 'Are they cutting edge?' but 'Are they good?'" If we are left to live in a society without norms, without objectivity, without objective standards, then we will not be able to answer the question about something's goodness.

C. S. Lewis, Augustine and the Silver Bullet Band

2008-01-24T10:32:00.000-08:00

Augustine famously wrote, "Thou hast made us for Thyself, and our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee." This statement has been conceptualized with the image of the God-shaped hole in the human heart. This image suggests that we have a "hole" in our heart that nothing else can fill except God Himself. We can attempt to fill that hole with other things -- personal relationships, hobbies, stuff, etc. -- but those things are incapable of filling the hole. The writings of C. S. Lewis are heavily laden with this concept, but Lewis does not speak of it in Augustine's terms. For Lewis, this "God-shaped hole" is experienced in the universal phenomenon of Sehnsucht. Literally translated, this German term means simply "desire," but the concept is much stronger than this English word conveys. I have written elsewhere a survey of this concept in Lewis's writings.

All of us have had the experience of disappointment. Disappointment occurs when something fails to live up to our expectations of it. We have our hopes set high that some new gadget will revolutionize our life, so we spend a lot of money to get that thing, only to find that it does not live up to the hype, or we break the thing, rendering it useless. We are left in despair. What we desire remains somewhere outside of our grasp. We could illustrate the concept of Sensucht another way. Phineas is offered a pill that promises to deliver a sensation of euphoria. Phineas takes this pill and experiences its "high." Wanting to repeat the experience, Phineas takes the pill again. In time, Phineas will discover that taking one of these pills does not deliver the same effects anymore, so he begins taking two at a time. He continues this until two no longer fulfill his desire, and he begins taking three, and so on. The ultimate experience of euphoria can never be attained, always lying somewhere just beyond the grasp.

Of course, for C. S. Lewis and for Augustine, God is the only answer to our Sehnsucht. Our hearts are restless, always seeking and never finding the rest we desire, until we rest in Him.
When one understands this, one holds in his or her grasp the answer to the questions often asked in popular expressions of art -- including popular music. This came to mind this morning as I listened to the song "Roll Me Away," by Bob Seger. Of course, I could use many other popular songs to illustrate the point (perhaps readers will share their own thoughts on this concept in the comment section).

In this classic rock power-ballad, Seger sings:

Took a look down a westbound road, Right away I made my choice. Headed out to my big two-wheeler, I was tired of my own voice. Took a bead on the northern plains And just rolled that power on.
Who among us hasn't wished we could just get away from it all? Tired of our surroundings, the daily grind, and even our own voices, we have a desire for escape. Seger takes off on his motorcycle, and one can feel the sense of liberation that comes over him as he rolls the power on.
Twelve hours out of Mackinaw City, Stopped in a bar to have a brew. Met a girl and we had a few drinks And I told her what I'd decided to do. She looked out the window a long, long moment, Then she looked into my eyes. She didn't have to say a thing, I knew what she was thinkin'.
You have to wonder what kind of desolate place he has come to if it can only be described as "twelve hours out of Mackinaw (or Mackinac) City. Surely he must be only a few hours away from another city he could name. And one would also question the wisdom of having a brew -- having "a few drinks" in fact -- before mounting his ride again, but I digress. As Seger shares a few drinks and bears his soul to a strange woman, he recognizes in her the same desire, though she need not say it. Of course she doesn't need to say it -- it is something every soul longs for. The look in her eyes said to Seger:

Roll, roll me away, Wont you roll me away tonight? I too am lost, I feel double-crossed, And I'm sick of what's wrong and what's right. We never even said a word, We just walked out and got on that bike. And we rolled -- And we rolled clean out of sight.
Lostness, betrayal, the burden of playing the game of life under someone else's rules. There must be something better out there somewhere. Let's go find it.

We rolled across the high plains; Deep into the mountains; Felt so good to me; Finally feelin' free.
Could it be that Seger has finally found the freedom he longs for? The buzz of alcohol, the wind in his face, a strange woman's arms around him, the beauty of creation all around. But alas, the sensation is short lived.
Somewhere along a high road, The air began to turn cold. She said she missed her home. I headed on alone.
It didn't take long for the woman to realize (or sober up enough to discover) that this adventure failed to live up to her expectations. She missed her home. You recall that "home" for her was a place of lostness, betrayal and a seeming unjust value system. But a few hours in the hot pursuit of something different -- something better -- did not deliver upon its promise. Better for her to return to the familiarity of her unpleasant reality than to keep pursuing the unknown on the back of Seger's bike. Seger doesn't tell us what he did with her. For all we know, he might have killed her. Let's assume he didn't. Did he leave her on the roadside to negotiate her own passage back to "twelve hours out of Mackinac City" or did he take her back himself? We will never know. But the open road still beckons Seger, and he headed on without his companion.

Stood alone on a mountain top, Starin' out at the Great Divide I could go east, I could go west, It was all up to me to decide. Just then I saw a young hawk flyin', And my soul began to rise. And pretty soon My heart was singin': Roll, roll me away, I'm gonna roll me away tonight.
Gotta keep rollin', gotta keep ridin', Keep searchin' till I find whats right. And as the sunset faded I spoke to the faintest first starlight. And I said, "Next time -- Next time we'll get it right."

One can almost feel the disappointment uttered in Seger's reluctant confession. He wants to experience the boundless freedom he sees in the flight of that young hawk over the Continental Divide. But alas, he won't find it on this journey. As the sun drops behind the mountains, Seger is left with the realization that, like the woman who abandoned the journey, he too must give up the quest and return to place from whence he came. But the desire will still be there, and he'll act upon it again. And "next time, we'll get it right."

The theme is familiar. You or I could have written this song, changing some of the details. But we have all found ourself lying in darkness uttering that reluctant confession -- "Next time, we'll get it right." The thing we so desire is just beyond our reach. And this will be the epilogue of all life's pursuits except one -- the pursuit of God. Only He can fill the hole. Only He can save us from our lostness. Only He will be faithful. Only He can remedy the betrayal we have experienced from others. Only He can right the wrongs. As we pursue Him, we will find Him (Jeremiah 29:13). Only in Him will we find the contentment for which we are all longing.

Seger says: "Just then I saw a young hawk flyin', And my soul began to rise."

Isaiah says: "Those who wait for the Lord will gain new strength; they will mount up with wings like eagles, they will run and not get tired, they will walk and not become weary." (Isa 40:31)

Spy Kids 3: Game Over

2007-09-06T05:15:00.000-07:00

Spoiler Alert: The following article contains a spoiler.
-----------------------------------------------------

I was called away from my little cave (aka: Pastor’s Study) to watch my two younger sons while my wife ran an errand. Still too hot in the middle of the day to go outside, my sons and I sat down to watch Spy Kids 3: Game Over on the Disney Channel.

The movie contained just enough animated special effects to keep the attention of a 4 and 2 year old and contained barely enough substance in its plot to keep the attention of a 38 year old dad. However, at the end of the movie, something amazing happened that I never expected.

The movie was heading toward the typical ending where the good guys overcome almost insurmountable odds to kick the butts of the bad guys. But at the very end, one of the good guys who seemed to have every right to enact revenge on the chief bad guy in the name of justice chooses not to do so. Rather, the two are reconciled.

I find it interesting that Dimension Films (which is not exactly a bastion of tameness when it comes to movie making) can produce a movie that ends with a message of forgiveness, redemption, and reconciliation which are all aspects of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I pray that I, as a member of the body of Christ, the Church, can illustrate Christ’s redemption in my own life as well as Dimension Films in Spy Kids 3.

Billy Belk

National Treasure: Guest Feature by Dr. Larry Doyle

2007-07-05T20:02:00.000-07:00

Dr. Larry Doyle is Director of Missions for the Piedmont Baptist Association in Greensboro, NC. Dr. Doyle included this article in his weekly "encourage_" email, and with his permission, I reprint it here. I told Dr. Doyle I felt like this piece was in keeping with the goals we established when we started this blog. Without further ado, here is Dr. Larry Doyle with "Our National Treasure."

This week our thoughts have turned to our nation, our history, and our future. As I was channel surfing this weekend, I caught the end of a Disney movie titled National Treasure. Watching this fictional story of a quest to discover, and protect the national treasure, made me ask the question, "Is there a real national treasure?"

My answer is yes, but I'm not thinking of a cache of gold, hidden somewhere beneath the streets of Philadelphia. This treasure is not measured by financial standards, or even in terms of our great heritage and history. Our true national treasure is found in these words, "In God We Trust."

If this is our treasure, what does it mean to trust in God?

The Bible says, "For God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, has shined into our hearts, to give the light of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. But we have this treasure in an earthen vessel that the excellency of the power may be of God and not of ourselves." (2 Corinthians 4:6-7) The NLV says " . . .this precious treasure - this light and power that now shines within us - is held in perishable containers . . ."

In other words, our national treasure is our relationship with God, through Jesus Christ. In the movie, the national treasure was hidden in a tomb, beneath an old church in downtown Philadelphia. Our treasure can become hidden beneath our traditions.

The code for rediscovering it, as the movie suggests, is not found in some ancient document written by men, such as the Declaration of Independence, but rather in God's Word. Further, we do not need "rose colored glasses" to see the hidden words, just the Holy Spirit to lead us to recognize the truth. We simply have to read the Word of God.

Just like in the movie, the path to encounter our treasure is also through a tomb. Someone paid the ultimate price for our treasure by giving His life. This tomb, however, is empty, because death could not hold Him there. His resurrection secured the treasure for us, and for everyone who believes in Him.

It is also important to remember, our treasure is intended to be shared with the world, not buried in our church buildings. Jesus said, "Go into all the world and preach the Good News to everyone, everywhere." Mark 16:15 NLV.

As citizens of perhaps the greatest nation in history, we do have a national treasure! Share the treasure! You can never give it away too many times! Tell someone about Jesus today!

Good News for Movie Lovers

2007-05-17T09:08:00.000-07:00

If you are a movie lover (as I am), then I can't encourarge you strongly enough to look into ClearPlay (which I discussed in a previous post entitled "Watching Movies Without Violating Your Conscience"). ClearPlay is a DVD player with a built-in software that "filters" objectionable content from most DVDs (see www.clearplay.com for a full list of movies; the list is expanding every day). The great news is that these DVD players are now available at Target stores, where you can buy them at a great savings over the ClearPlay website. What's more, the Target deal also includes the "Filter Stick" (a USB flash drive you use to download movie filters), a free trial membership to the filter subscription service, and over 2,000 filters (which I assume are pre-loaded onto the USB drive). So, if you love movies, head out to Target and get one of these things. We got ours from ClearPlay last fall, and now enjoy watching movies together as a family without worrying about what the kids (or adults!) will see or hear.

A Song That Points Us to God

2007-02-28T12:02:00.000-08:00

Faithful readers of this blog (if there are any) will remember that our initial post here concerned a song written by Bob Dylan called "A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall." In that post, I talked about how that song drives more deeply to the heart of God than much of what we hear in contemporary Christian music, even (if not especially) that which is often mistakenly called "worship music." This gave us the title for the blog -- "The Sacred in the Secular." I can't speak for my S/S teammates here, but for me, the dichotomy is a bit artificial and often stretched. I believe that part of the image of God in us is an insatiable longing for Him. As Augustine said, "Thou hast made us for Thyself, and our hearts are restless until we rest in Thee." C. S. Lewis referred to this as sensucht. This comes across in our culture in the music, film, literature, and other arts of humanity. And often it comes through most clearly and certainly inadvertently in that which would be called "secular" by many evangelicals.

Last fall, I was exasperated because of a number of pressing frustrations I was dealing with. It caused me to have frequent paralyzing anxiety attacks, and produced bitterness and a crusty shell of lovelessness in my heart for others. I know all the verses, I have read all the books and heard all the sermons, but the fog would not lift. Yet, on Thanksgiving Day, I arose early to sit with my son for one of our annual traditions that I used to enjoy as a child with my father -- watching the parade on television. Anyone who has watched the parade for a number of years will know what I mean when I say that it has become more of a song and dance show than an actual parade. Usually that frustrates me. I want to see floats and balloons and marching bands. I don't want to see kick-lines and Broadway troupes and the stars of the new fall lineups. But I decided to endure a performance by Josh Groban. I had heard him sing before, and thought he had a tremendous voice and a good taste for timeless songs. On Thanksgiving Day, he sang a song called "You Are Loved (Don't Give Up)." And listening to the words of that song, I felt the embrace of God over me, and was lifted up from my despair to apply all those spiritual truths which I knew, but which I had ignored, avoided, and given up on during those stressful days.

Since that time, I have kept that song in the playlist on my iPod and find myself listening to it often. I am not a music video fan. I have never seen the music video for the song, and don't even know if one exists. But every time I listen to "You Are Loved," a series of images passes through my mind. These are the images I see on a near daily basis. I see the desperation on the streets around my church -- lives ruined by drug addiction, alcoholism, prostitution, mental illness. I find the scenes of families mourning at gravesides; lonely people lying in hospital beds on ventilators with no loved ones at their sides; people all around us trying to pretend to have it all together, when inside they are falling apart.

If I was to radically obey the words of the Apostle Paul when he says in Epehsians 5 that we are to be filled with the Holy Spirit, "speaking to one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs," then I would be pointing people to the 34th and 91st Psalms and singing these words to them and encouraging them to feel the loving embrace of their Father in Heaven as He comforts them with these promises. The singer isn't citing scripture, and I don't even know if the writer of the song had God in mind when he wrote it. But every promise in this song parallels a promise God has given us in His Word. As I copy the lyrics here, I will insert in parenthesis some of the places God has made these comforting promises of assurance to us:

Don't give up; It's just the weight of the world
When you're heart's heavy, I will lift it for you (1 Peter 5:7)

Don't give up; Because you want to be heard
If silence keeps you, I will break it for you (Matthew 10:19-20)

Everybody wants to be understood
Well I can hear you (Philippians 4:6-7)
Everybody wants to be loved
Don't give up
Because you are loved (Galatians 2:20)

Don't give up; It's just the hurt that you hide
When you lost inside, I will be there to find you (Luke 19:10)

Don't give up; Because you want to burn bright
If darkness blinds you, I will shine to guide you (Psalm 119:105; Matthew 5:14-16)

Everybody wants to be understood
Well I can hear you
Everybody wants to be loved
Don't give up
Because you are loved

Watching Movies Without Violating Your Conscience

2007-02-21T10:18:00.000-08:00

Frequent readers of this blog, and my other one, Searchlights from the Scriptures, will readily recognize that the art of film is one of the most influential mediums for modern messages in our day. Every film that is made is made for a purpose, and rarely is that purpose merely entertainment. Usually, there is an underlying worldview that is being advanced through the film. Surely, there is much entertainment value in watching films as well, and we don't want to minimize that. It is an absolute delight to curl up on the couch together with my wife and our little ones to watch a movie. However, most Christians would also recognize that seldom are the offerings of Hollywood suitable for Christian family entertainment. Vulgarity, sexuality, and brutality often detract from the enjoyment of film. For many years, we had to just steer clear altogether of movies unless we knew for sure (from the reliable testimony of others who had seen the film) that the particular movie we wanted to watch was free from those things which would violate our consciences and Christian convictions.

Last year, a landmark court case put the kibosh on family friendly "edited" versions of popular films. In that case, the only two companies (CleanFilms and CleanFlicks) who were producing "cleaned-up" versions of DVDs chose to cease operation rather than appealing the courts rulings against them. When I read about this, I was embarrassed that I never even knew of these companies! If I had, I would have been a customer. But through all of this, I learned of another company which has opened up movie viewing for my family.

ClearPlay makes a DVD player that uses "filters" for DVDs that have adjustable settings for filtering out language, sexuality, and violence. We purchased one of these in October of last year, and have truly enjoyed watching movies again without having to keep our fingers in the kids' ears or our hands over their eyes.

I commend this to you for your own enjoyment. Certainly there are still films which would be inappropriate even if filtered. Some films would be little more than opening and closing credits after all the objectionable content was removed. However, many which would have been "off limits" for us in the past are now easily enjoyable because of the ClearPlay filters.

If you are interested in learning more about it, visit www.clearplay.com.

Mohler on "KGOY" and Barbie

2006-12-21T09:12:00.000-08:00

As a parent of a little girl, I am deeply concerned about the marketing of certain toys to young girls. Just in time to ruin Christmas for many undescerning parents, Mohler has published this alarming post on the disturbing markenting phenomenon that revolves around the acrostic "KGOY": "Kids Growing Older Younger". Read it here.

I am a genuine evangelical Scrooge, I confess. But I dread the day when well-intentioned but less than discerning gift-givers buy toys for my children which I do not approve of, and Barbie ranks near top of the list. Reading Mohler's blog article today should help readers to understand why.

Bah Humbug.

"The Nativity Story" -- In Season and On Message

2006-11-29T13:56:00.000-08:00

"The Nativity Story" -- In Season and On Message

Several people have asked my take on the new film, "The Nativity Story." Being ignorant, I have chosen to remain silent. Fortunately for us all, Al Mohler is neither ignorant nor silent. Read his excellent review on what appears to be a pleasant holiday surprise.

Yo Quiero Mas Nachos!

2006-11-29T12:19:00.000-08:00

Spoiler Warning: The following post may give away the ending to Nacho Libre.

I have a confession to make -- I think Jack Black is one of the funniest human beings in the contemporary movie industry. He looks funny, he acts funny, he says funny things. His brand of physical humor is reminiscent of the late John Belushi and Chris Farley, as well as some of the older work of Bill Murray, Chevy Chase, Robin Williams and Steve Martin. And typically I only like funny movies. Life is full of drama -- comedic films offer a brief respite from the weight of cares and concerns that this world piles on us. Real life produces enough tears, enough anxiety, and enough opportunity for heavy thought. What it often fails to provide are enough opportunities to laugh. So I seek out films that will provide that.

Having said that, it should come as no surprise that I have thoroughly enjoyed most of Jack Black's films. However, I stop short of endorsing most of them for others to watch, because often they contain language and behavior that responsible Christians should rightly recognize as inappropriate. I rented Nacho Libre over the weekend to watch by myself for a little bit of comic relief. I was pleasantly surprised to find in it a serious message (woven through the comedic scenes), and virtually no offensive content. So it was with great pleasure that I watched it a second time with my family.

Ignatio was raised in a monastery for orphans. He is disrespected by the monks of the order, but rather than making him despise religion, instead we find that he retains his love for God and his desire to serve him, while growing weary of the manmade rituals and regulations of monastic life. In Ignatio, we find a humble and pious man who struggles with a desire for honor and respect. So, he begins a secret career as a luchador, a professional wrestler who goes by the name of Nacho.

Frustrated by his inability to succeed as a luchador, Ignatio comes to a crisis of belief. He has fallen in love with Sister Encarnacion, a teacher at the monastery. He has failed to win a single bout. He has a falling out with his tag-team partner, Esqueleto, who claims that they never win because Ignatio is too fat. Esqueleto does not understand Ignatio's convictions. "I don't believe in God, I only believe in science," he says. Catholic doctrine of salvation aside, Ignatio expresses concern for Esqueleto's soul. The money from wrestling has afforded Ignatio the opportunity to buy expensive clothes and fancy shoes, but it never takes away from his love for God, his desire to serve God, or his compassion for the orphans. When the desire for wrestling success causes him to lapse on a responsibility he has at the monastery, Sister Encarnacion tells him that God will only honor that which is done for Him. With renewed vigor, Ignatio recommits himself to pursuing God first and foremost in his endeavors, and finds that God honors him and brings him the success and the love that has escaped his grasp.

As the film ended, I thought of a poem that I have heard for many years, but recently sticks in my mind because it runs like a seam through John Piper's book Don't Waste Your Life. "Only one life, It will soon be past. Only what's done for Christ will last." Ignatio learned the truth of this. I pray that I will as well. And I pray that learning it will not require me to don "stretchy pants."

The poor architecture of San Francisco

2006-10-18T12:26:00.000-07:00

The poor architecture of San Francisco. By Witold Rybczynski - Slate Magazine

Reading this article (linked above) in Slate Magazine reminded me of some of the truths Nicholas Wolterstorff points out in "Art in Action," which I summarized in my previous post, "The Art of the City."

A great quote from the Slate article: "Architecturally speaking, San Francisco has been like a beautiful, rich woman who has never developed an interest in cooking and serves TV dinners to her family, then occasionally—somewhat frantically—hires caterers whenever she has company for dinner."

Yooouuu... Bible Thumpin, Tree Huggin, Baptist!

2006-09-28T09:14:00.000-07:00

(I took this picture while enjoying the beauty of God's creation up in the Swiss Alps in the summer of 2005.)

Russ suggested that I move a comment that I made on his previous post to the main page as a post of its own, so here it is.... enjoy!

An Associated Press story appeared in my local paper this morning (9/14/06). The story reported that an estimated 100,000 acres of private forest is destroyed in North Carolina each year. According to a Raleigh based environmental group, the annual loss is roughly the size of the city of Durham.

The story reports that North Carolina’s cities are in the middle of a “great crescent” that connects Atlanta to Washington DC making the area in between one great suburb. The growth of this great suburb is creating a great amount of urban sprawl. A debate is erupting in North Carolina between conservationists and county governments. Conservationists are urging local governments to lower the property tax rate for property owners who own large tracts of hardwoods and are committed to conservation of forests. If taxes are lower on large tracts of forests, property owners could afford to keep their property rather than selling it to a developer. Unfortunately, county managers aren’t willing to adjust their budgets to accommodate such lower tax rates (You know... that whole serving “mammon” thing that’s found in the uuhh... yeah! That’s right! The Bible!).

I bring this news story to the attention of the discerning reader because the main article mentions conservation. After all, I don’t think God had in mind the destruction of 100,000 acres of timber per year in an area the size of North Carolina when he commanded the human race to have dominion over the earth (Genesis 1:28). With dominion comes stewardship and responsibility. Destroying timber at such enormous rates and covering the land with concrete and asphalt is neither good management nor responsible. Turning a forest into a shopping mall turns the “good” that God created (Genesis 1:31) into something that is extremely ugly. It all boils down to much of the human race serving mammon rather than God (Matthew 6:24).

Thus, I am an environmentalist of the highest order. In fact, I’m almost a radical environmentalist. However, my environmentalism is informed by the Bible alone because it is the Bible that reveals to us who the Creator is and how creation speaks to His glory. Without the Scriptures, my environmentalism would have no philosophical underpinning. Thus, as far as I’m concerned, you can’t be a philosophically consistent environmentalist without a Bible tucked under your arm.

BB

For The Beauty of a Crocodile

2006-09-14T08:38:00.000-07:00

Early one morning last week (OK, early for me), I wiped the crust from my eyelids after a night of restless sleep, and turned on the TV before getting out of bed. I always do this to hear the top news and weather of the day. As I squinted to read the scrolling text at the bottom of the screen, I thought I caught something about Steve Irwin, AKA "The Crocodile Hunter", was dead. My reaction was somewhat unexpected. I jumped up, said aloud, "Crocodile Hunter died?" Then I went into the living room to watch the full details on a bigger screen in a brighter room (nearer to the coffee maker). There was (I am embarrassed to say) a deep sense of sadness in my heart as I listened to the story unfold.

Now, understand, I am not a frequent viewer of his show. I could not tell you the day nor the hour in which it airs. But occasionally, as I was channel surfing, I would come across this beloved Aussie as he was entwining himself in a python or something equally dangerous, saying, "What a beauty, mate!" I would chuckle at what his bravery, his enthusiasm, and the all-out passion he had for the animals in our world. Sometimes, I even said, "What an idiot!" But I just couldn't change the channel.

A couple of days after his death, I began to wonder, "Why is America and the world still going on about the death of a crocodile-hunter?" Several answers came to mind --

1. He is Australian, and for some reason, Americans love Australians. Enter Crocodile Dundee (who should have stopped before the first sequel), the Wiggles, the Crocodile Hunter, the Sydney Olympics, etc.

2. He was extremely entertaining. His combination of humor and bravery drew viewers by the millions.

3. He was happily married and a proud daddy. Many questioned Irwin's judgment when he was videotaped with his baby in his arms while feeding a crocodile, but I always thought it was kind of neat that he involved his family in his work.

4. He died doing what he loved. If Steve Irwin had died of cancer or a heart attack, we would have had a two-minute piece on the tail end of nightly news, and an all-day tribute on Animal Planet, and casting call for his replacement. But Steve Irwin died as only Steve Irwin could. A poisonous barb of a sting-ray punctured his heart. And whether or not any of us have ever desired to swim with stingrays or not, we have to admire a guy who does what he loves, even when its dangerous, and dies in the process.

Let me dwell on this for just a moment. The Lord Jesus Christ promised this to the church at Smyrna in Revelation 2:10 -- Be faithful, even to the point of death, and I will give you the crown of life (NIV). The three of us here at Sacred/Secular all had a professor in Bible College who told us that this until, unto, even to the point of death (depending on your English translation) does not necessarily mean that our faithfulness should endure until we die, but it may also include the idea that our faithfulness would be the cause of our death. Now, with that in mind, think about Croc-Hunter. Do what you love, embrace the danger, and be willing to die for it. I remember John Piper saying something like, "You don't have to know alot of things. Know one all-important thing, and be willing to die for it." Now, here's the point: Do I love Jesus Christ as much as Steve Irwin loved stingrays? That is a barbed question that I hope will puncture my heart every time I see a crocodile, a stingray, or anything else that reminds me of Irwin's commitment to animals and nature.

I have been thinking a lot lately about the beauty of the earth and all that is in it. I guess it is because every Friday for the last several weeks, I have been assuming my new responsibility as homeschool science teacher. We've been studying biology -- the science of life. And we are talking about animals using age-appropriate reference works that have big colorful pictures of all these amazing animals. Do you know how many colors of kangaroos there are? Did you ever realize how many different varieties of weasels there are? Do you know that God did not have to give us beauty. He did not have to give us color or variety in nature. He could have put us in a mundane monochrome world. There is much more variety in nature than necessary for the survival of species. So why did God grant such excessive variety? For the beauty of the earth. He created man and gave him a job -- to be stewards of a beautiful world full of wonderful plant and animal life. But it is a heartbreaking indicator of the depravity of man that we have by-and-large understood our God-given dominion only as permission to drain the world of its natural resources for the enhancement of our own standards of living. But every now and then someone comes along like an unlikely prophet to point us to the beauty of the world. They are intriguing. They take us places our luxury cars won't travel, far outside the life of the suburbs. They show us animals we can't keep on leash and plants we can't grow in a pot. And we learn from them. And we envy them. And we change the channel and return to the self-inflicted mundane monochromatic existence rather than enjoying the technicolor world God has given us.

But what if, just what if, we loved life as much as Irwin? What if we loved nature as much as Irwin? No, not loving nature INSTEAD of loving Jesus, but loving nature BECAUSE we love Jesus, and He has created us to have dominion over this beautiful world. And that is irony of Steve Irwin. There is no external indicator that he knew Christ. The article in Kairos Journal that I read today (which sparked this article in my imagination) indicated that, "he and his wife welcomed their children into the world with Buddhist ceremonies." Why is it that those who do not know the Creator have more regard for His creation than those who do know Him? And so the Kairos article concluded: "[Irwin's] life is one long rebuke to Christians who take little delight in their Father’s world. If a man could love the creation this much and not know the Creator—how much more should those who love God take delight in the work of His hands?"

Folliott Pieroint penned one of my favorite hymns in 1864. If the words were written today, they would be ill-appreciated by evangelicals. But because they are 142 years old, we tolerate them for tradition's sake (but rarely sing them). Shame on us. For Folliot Pierpoint understood the gratitude that we ought to daily bring to the Creator "For the Beauty of the Earth."

The refrain is familiar: "Lord of all, to Thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise." The verses enumerate the reasons for this praise:

For the beauty of the earth.
For the glory of the skies.
For the love which from our birth over and around us lies
For the beauty of each hour of the day
... and of the night
... hill
... and vale
... and tree
... and flower
... sun
... moon
... and stars of light
For the joy of ear
... and eye
For the heart ...
... and mind's delight
For the mystic harmony linking sense to sound and sight
For the joy of human love
... brother
... sister
... parent
... child
... friends on earth
... friends above
For all gentle thoughts
... and mild
For each perfect gift of Thine to our race so freely given
... graces human
... and divine
... flowers or earth
... and buds of heaven.

Lord of all to Thee we raise this our hymn of grateful praise. And this prayer, that Thou wouldst stir up in us a song of praise to Thee when we behold the beauty of a crocodile. It is a beauty, mate! And may we sing it even tomorrow as we journey to the Zoo!

P.S. If you want to watch a good movie that will make you laugh and stir up in you a love of God's creation -- see Life Aquatic. Beware of strong language and brief nudity, but see it anyway. I have been wanting to post an article about it here, but I can't seem to find the words to describe how much I loved the film.

Not-So-Amusing Amusements

2006-09-04T08:32:00.000-07:00

My sister invited me and my family to join her and her family for a day at Carowinds over the Labor Day weekend. For those of you not familiar with the term, Carowinds, it is a theme/amusement park that straddles the NC/SC state-line just south of Charlotte off Interstate 77. In fact, one rollercoaster called, Thunder-Road, allows passengers to crisscross the state-line during the ride.

I am very grateful for my sister’s hospitality as she paid our way into the park as a birthday gift to me, and I certainly would not want her to misinterpret what I write as being anything closely resembling ungratefulness. In fact, let me say up-front that I had a great time especially watching my three-year-old, Matthew, have the time of his life. Matthew is my little fearless fire-ball, and he was ready to ride anything that the park would allow him to ride. Unfortunately, being only three years of age, he couldn’t ride just anything which was a great disappointment to him. Honestly, he would’ve gotten on the fastest, scariest rides in the park had he been allowed to do so.

Now, with all that said, let me share with you the spiritual lesson that I learned from my five-year-old, Jonathan. As I’ve mentioned on this blogsite before, Jonathan had been diagnosed as being mildly autistic a few years ago. As a result, he has experienced some developmental delays, and his personality and characteristics are a little different than most children his age.

In the days leading up to our trip, Jonathan (5), Matthew (3), and to some degree my baby boy Stephen (1) were all excited about going to Carowinds (or as they called it: "the carnival"). Their enthusiasm even led to a measure of disciplinary problems as their excitement overshadowed their ability to behave. All Jonathan could talk about was riding the Merry-Go-Round. In fact, he told everybody who would listen that when he got to the “carnival” he was going to ride the Merry-Go-Round. For days, all that could be heard in my household was: “Merry-Go-Round, Merry-Go-Round, Merry-Go-Round” on and on and on and on......

Unfortunately, children who battle even mild forms of autism can become over-stimulated. When we arrived at Carowinds, the only parking spaces left were the ones located at the back entrance. When you enter the park from that side, you have to walk under a rather large, fast, and intimidating rollercoaster called Top-Gun. That experience along with extremely loud music being played through the loud-speakers on that end of the park was more than Jonathan could handle. As a result, he “freaked out.” By the time we made our way to the Merry-Go-Round (which was all that Jonathan had talked about in the days leading up to our trip), he was terrified of even the pleasant ride of a Merry-Go-Round, and I had to take him off the ride before the other passengers could proceed.

I really felt bad for Jonathan because he was genuinely excited about the prospect of riding a Merry-Go-Round only to have genuine excitement turn to genuine terror. So, what’s the moral of this story? Perhaps it’s the reality that the amusements of this world never really deliver what they promise.

May I never forget the lesson from my five-year-old... real contentment will not be found in the things of this world but will be found only in the presence of God.

BB

The Pirate In Us All

2006-08-12T08:32:00.000-07:00

(WARNING: The following article includes discussion of one scene from the movie, Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest. Although the plot and the ending are not revealed, you may want to withhold reading if you’ve planned to see the movie but haven’t yet.)

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About a year and half ago, I used my Netflix subscription to order Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl. Having enjoyed the movie, I naturally desired to see the sequel when it was released a little more than a month ago. This past week, my wife, Linda, and I celebrated our tenth wedding anniversary by having dinner together at our favorite restaurant and then catching the movie that we had been longing to see all summer... Pirates of the Caribbean 2: Dead Man’s Chest.

There is a pivotal scene in the movie when Captain Jack Sparrow (Johnny Depp) tempts the damsel, Elizabeth Swann (Keira Knightley), to become a ruthless pirate. Elizabeth responds by tempting the pirate, Jack Sparrow, to become a “good” man.

I immediately began to reflect upon this scene as it unfolded in the movie. There should be no doubt that this movie has redemption as its theme. However, in the real world, there is no redemption apart from grace. It is much easier for Elizabeth to be tempted into becoming a pirate than it is for Jack to be tempted into becoming “good.” In fact, the Gospel of Mark, chapter 10, verse 18, reminds us that no one is good except God.

What one learns later in the movie probably speaks more to the reality of human nature when the viewer sees that there is a little bit of pirate in Elizabeth after all.

Isn’t that in fact the reality of human nature? Our problem is that there is a little a bit of pirate in us all, and if it were not for God’s common grace, there would be a whole lot of pirate in us all. And as for anyone being “good,” there is the exercise of God’s special grace in which the righteousness of Christ is attributed to our account, and we are found to be “good” only in Him. Thus, we are not good according to our own goodness, but we our viewed by God as being good because He has given us Christ’s goodness while laying upon Christ our sin and paying the debt of our sin on the cross.

This all reminds me of a conversation that I had with a gentleman in a hospital waiting room back when the “DC Sniper” was still on the loose. We were watching the TV in the waiting room as another news report of the sniper’s latest attack was being broadcast, and the gentleman looked at me and said something about there being only a few such people as the sniper in the world and that most people were typically good. I politely disagreed with the man because apart from God’s grace we would all be “pirates” preying upon each other on the open road as the sniper was doing.

Yes, there is a little bit of pirate in us all, but thanks be unto God who has the power to transform us by His grace from being ruthless pirates to being members of His royal navy.

BB

Dixie Chicks, Go Home!

2006-07-08T07:24:00.000-07:00

In a Baptist Press Editorial dated June 28, Russell D. Moore writes about the undeniable spiritual longing that comes across in the Dixie Chicks album "Taking The Long Way." I would like to quote the entire article here because it so beautifully captures the spirit of what this blog is about. However, I will merely point a link to it because I do not know what the copyright issues are about copying and pasting articles into a blog.

Read it here: http://www.bpnews.net/bpcolumn.asp?ID=2296

Cars: The Movie

2006-06-09T18:34:00.000-07:00

(WARNING: This article is an analysis which seeks to compare the lessons learned by the lead character to the needs of popular culture. Therefore, this article contains SPOILERS. PLEASE DO NOT READ if you haven’t seen the movie and do not wish for the ending to be “spoiled” for you.

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My sons, Jonathan, Matthew, and Stephen had their “Lightening McQueen” and “Tow Mater” t-shirts at least a month before the movie, Cars, hit the theaters. By now, most people are familiar with these characters from Disney/Pixar’s latest animated motion picture.

Because the film is based on a Nascar type racing theme, the movie will no doubt be popular here in the South especially with Richard Petty, Darrell Waltrip, and Dale Earnhardt Jr. providing voices for three of the animated characters. Being a Southerner is not why I went to see the movie, and although my dad first took me to the Southern 500 at Darlington back in 1976 and made something of a racing fan out of me, I can assure you that I have outgrown it. I actually went to see the movie because I just enjoy watching my sons enjoy a movie, and like most children their age, they really love the animated films.

As an aside, I need to say something about Nascar. When there are over 40 drivers trying to run over one another to finish first, it’s hard to find anything redemptive in it especially since Christ teaches that those who are first will be last and those last will be first (Matthew 20:16). Let’s not kid ourselves; to be a winning racecar driver, you must have a rather sizable ego. Unfortunately, such egos fail to bring glory to God. Thus, I’m not the racing fan that I once was.

All the things that have fed my growing distaste for automobile racing were actually portrayed in a negative way in the movie which actually made it a delight to watch. The lead character is a racecar named “Lightening McQueen” (Owen Wilson), and just like some of the Nascar stars, he portrays all the egotistical characteristics that are apparently necessary to win.

However, on the way to California to race for the prestigious “Piston Cup”, Lightening McQueen has an accident and becomes lost. Before he can find his way back to the Interstate, he ends up in the forgotten town of “Radiator Springs” along the old “Route 66”. The town had become a bit broken-down as a result of neglect when traffic began to bypass it following the construction of the new Interstate Highway forty years ago. The residents of Radiator Springs are other cars including an old retired racecar named “Doc Hudson” (Paul Newman) which all became neglected as well. Having gotten into trouble with the law, McQueen is forced to stay in the town longer than he expected, but having done so, he learns something about life, humility, and what’s really important (loving and caring for others).

When McQueen finally arrives in California, suddenly winning the “Piston Cup” isn’t all that important anymore. On the last lap of the race, the movie’s villain, “Chick Hicks” (Michael Keaton) wrecks the old veteran known as “The King” (Richard Petty). McQueen has the chance to win the race and the “Piston Cup”, but he stops just inches from the finish line allowing Chick Hicks to win while he, McQueen, backs up to help The King and pushes him across the finish line. When The King asks Lightening McQueen why he allowed Chick Hicks to win, McQueen responded by saying: “The Piston Cup is just an empty cup” (a lesson learned from the old Doc Hudson back in Radiator Springs).

Unlike the Nascar world for which it is based, Cars has a redemptive theme in that it teaches that there are those among us who are neglected, and like McQueen, we should get off the superhighway sometimes, slowdown, and reach out to those who are neglected in our lightening fast culture. And we would do well to learn what McQueen learned: Those who are first will be last, and those who are last will be first. Without such understanding, life is just an empty cup!

You Got Any Skills?

2006-05-16T20:40:00.000-07:00

In the surprise hit film of 2004, Napoleon Dynamite, the title character speaks on multiple occasions of having “skills.” In one of the film’s more memorable scenes, there is a dialogue that includes this interchange:

Napoleon: "Well, nobody's gonna go out with me."
Pedro: "Have you asked anybody yet?"
Napoleon: "No, but who would?I don't even have any good skills."
Pedro: "What do you mean?"
Napoleon: "You know, like numchuck skills, bow hunting skills, computer hacking skills. Girls only want boyfriends who have great skills."

Napoleon Dynamite is an awkward teenage boy, rather homely in appearance and lacking many social graces. His insecurity is masked by a vivid imagination and a sour disposition. Evidence of the vivid imagination are these comments:

Don: "Hey, Napoleon, what'd you do all last summer again?"
Napoleon: "I told you! I spent it with my uncle in Alaska hunting wolverines!"
Don: "Did you shoot any?"
Napoleon: "Yes, like 50 of 'em! They kept trying to attack my cousins. what the heck would you do in a situation like that?"
Don: "What kind of gun did you use? "
Napoleon: "A frickin' 12-gauge, what do you think?"

And …

"You know, there's like a butt-load of gangs at this school. This one gang kept wanting me to join 'cause I'm pretty good with a bo-staff."

The sour disposition is evident from the first scene of the film on the school bus:

Kid On Bus: "What are you gonna do today, Napoleon?"
Napoleon Dynamite: "Whatever I feel like I wanna do, Gosh!"

As I watched this film, I was constantly wondering why this boy’s attitude was so sour. It was a very annoying feature of the film. I would speculate that there was some incident in his past involving his parents, for he lives with his brother and grandmother, and the transient Uncle Rico. My speculations are unimportant. Certainly, beneath the heavy layer of fantastic imagination and negative demeanor is a boy who feels as if he has nothing to contribute to the world at large, because he is lacking in skills.

Pedro seeks to encourage Napoleon, saying, “Aren't you pretty good at drawing, like, animals and warriors and stuff?” Napoleon responds, “Yes. Probably the best that I know of.” We the viewers who have peered over Napoleon’s shoulder as he penciled sketches of Ligers and other mystical, mythical creatures, are taken aback by the confident assertion. Soon Napoleon learns that drawing can be added to numchucks, bow hunting, and computer hacking, as yet one more thing which is NOT his skill.

In the end, Napoleon Dynamite, it seems does have a skill. He is a friend. In this day and time, that skill is becoming rarer than numchuck proficiency or cage fighting. And young people who might have this skill are often like Napoleon Dynamite. They hide that skill beneath layers of cynicism, fantasy, and mistaken notions of what it means to be cool. After spending most of the movie resisting nausea because of the lead character, at film’s end I found myself envious of him. Napoleon Dynamite has a skill I covet. He knows how to be a friend to the friendless. And that skill is much like Another Person I know: Jesus Christ who became a friend of sinners for our redemption. If I could be more like Him, that would be flippin’ sweet.

Aslan is on the move!

2006-05-16T11:43:00.000-07:00

Perhaps I’ve been thinking too much about denominational matters lately and desire to think about loftier things. When the idea of higher things comes to mind I am reminded of my favorite part of C.S. Lewis’s The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.

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Mr. Beaver: “They say Aslan is on the move – perhaps has already landed.”

And now a very curious thing happened. None of the children knew who Aslan was any more than you do; but the moment the Beaver had spoken these words everyone felt quite different. Perhaps it has sometimes happened to you in a dream that someone says something which you don’t understand but in the dream it feels as if it has some enormous meaning – either a terrifying one which turns the whole dream into a nightmare or so beautiful that you remember it all your life and are always wishing you could get into that dream again. It was like that now. At the name of Aslan each one of the children felt something jump in its inside. Edmund felt a sensation of mysterious horror. Peter felt suddenly brave and adventurous. Susan felt as if some delicious smell or some delightful strain of music had just floated by her. And Lucy got the feeling you have when you wake up in the morning and realize that it is the beginning of the holidays or the beginning of summer.

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When I think about this excerpt from Lewis’s work, the words of Philippians 4:8 come to mind: “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever, is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things (ESV). Knowing that Christ “is on the move”, may our minds be saturated with all these things as the Spirit of God works His will in our lives.

"Money for Nothing" by Dire Straits

2006-05-04T09:31:00.000-07:00

No one can serve two masters, for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and money (Mt. 6:24, ESV).

In the United States, what is it that really fuels our economy? An economy, mind you, that at least seems to be structured purely on the necessity of sizable growth. Could the “it” that fuels our economy be a growing desire to acquire more and bigger possessions?

For example, in 2005, the Associated Press reported the growing size of the average American house. Families have decreased in size over the past couple of generations concerning the number of children per household; yet, the average square footage of homes has increased.

It is now necessary to have multiple cars for each household. Now, I realize that we live in a mobile society and multiple vehicles have become a genuine necessity. However, it seems that we Americans try to outdo one another when it comes to the size of our gas guzzling SUVs.

I remember the first time I applied for a credit card. I was twenty two years old and considered a risk by the credit card company because at such an age, I did not have an appropriate credit history. Fourteen years later, my mail box is flooded with credit card offers almost every day by lending companies who seem to care-less about my credit history and would love nothing more than to see me in a situation in which I could never pay them back; thus, being indebted to them for a lifetime. Credit cards are easy to get, and if we feel that our lifestyles aren’t as exuberate as we believe they should be, we do not think twice about maxing those cards out never thinking of the future or caring about how we will repay the debt.

Several scenarios must play out for Americans to maintain our... uuhh... lifestyles. First, our economy must remain strong enough for certain jobs to exist. Not just any jobs, but the kind of jobs that pay Americans enough money so that they can make those mortgage payments on those 6000 sq. ft. homes nestled in the nice suburbs; homes which seem barely big enough for mom, dad, and their little angel (sarcasm).

Whatever these jobs are and whatever this economic growth is suppose to accomplish, it all seems to take its toll on the environment. This week my local newspaper reported the growing and disturbing trend of permanent ecological damage as hardwoods and grass lands are lost to development. The development has robbed the environment’s ability to absorb storm water causing flash flooding in developed areas when just a few inches of rain falls. To fix the situation, literally millions of dollars will be spent in the next several years just to create storm drain systems in the county made necessary by the development which is supposedly necessary for us to maintain our growing economy and "deserved" lifestyles. In other words, our lust for more is creating permanent ecological damage to creation. And by the way, is it not creation that brings glory and honor to God?

Our lust for more also takes its toll on American manufacturing. As a result, manufacturing jobs continue to decrease as goods are produced elsewhere for less, so that “desperate housewives” can spend all day at Goody’s and Target with greater spending power. But hey! Who cares? Manufacturing jobs are for those poor saps who could never live in 6000 sq. ft. homes anyway... right?

At the same time, those who lost their manufacturing jobs will be in line at the county health department signing their children up for Medicare because health insurance is no longer affordable since the plant closed. Oh, and they will not be at Target when they leave the health department; rather, they will be at the Goodwill store looking for clothes for their children.

The other jobs out there that cannot come close to helping us maintain our (supposedly deserved) lifestyles are jobs that we reserve for the immigrants. Unchecked immigration is how we keep services cheap, so that the rest of us can enjoy that certain lifestyle to which we have grown accustomed.

Next, it is absolutely necessary that fuel prices remain cheap in order for us to operate our big honkin SUVs. Oh, we might want to believe that the CEOs of the petroleum companies are greedy, and maybe to some extent they are; I don’t know. However, a market is a market, and when demand goes up and supply goes down, the price WILL increase. During the 90s car companies were in an all-out-war to see who could build the biggest SUV because we Americans demanded them. Now, every time one of these huge tanks pulls up to the gas pump, supply struggles to keep up with demand. But, hey! We’re Americans! We deserve to drive around in army tanks... right?

Here’s the problem in a nutshell: we see our neighbor’s big house and big SUV... we want the same... we feel we deserve it... we go and get the same, and we don’t care of the consequences. It’s called envy, and consequences are cast aside when envy controls one’s heart.

When I was in high school, the rock band, Dire Straits, pegged us correctly when, in the lyrics of their song, “Money for Nothing,” they described one’s envious desire to have what the performers on MTV had... money for nothing.

"Money for Nothing" by Dire Straits

I want my I want my MTV x4

Now look at them yo-yo's that's the way you do it
You play the guitar on the MTV
That ain't workin' that's the way you do it
Money for nothin' and chicks for free

Now that ain't workin' that's the way you do it
Lemme tell ya them guys ain't dumb
Maybe get a blister on your little finger
Maybe get a blister on your thumb

We gotta install microwave ovens
Custom kitchen deliveries
We gotta move these refrigerators
We gotta move these color TV's

See the little faggot with the earring and the makeup
Yeah buddy that's his own hair
That little faggot got his own jet airplane
That little faggot he's a millionaire

We gotta install microwave ovens
Custom kitchen deliveries
We gotta move these refrigerators
We gotta move these colour TV's

I shoulda learned to play the guitar
I shoulda learned to play them drums
And he's up there, what's that? Hawaiian noises?
Bangin' on the bongoes like a chimpanzee
That ain't workin' that's the way you do it
Get your money for nothin' get your chicks for free

We gotta install microwave ovens
Custom kitchen deliveries
We gotta move these refrigerators
We gotta move these colour TV's, Lord

Now that ain't workin' that's the way you do it
You play the guitar on the MTV
That ain't workin' that's the way you do it
Money for nothin' and your chicks for free

Money for nothin' and chicks for free

Moving On

2006-04-30T15:57:00.000-07:00

I tend to have an addictive personality. When something "new" comes along I charge after it like a Pamplona Bull. The down side is that I sometimes lose focus, and revert back to my true, boring self. This has been the case with this Blog. I was so enthusiastic about it to start out that I found myself wanting to write everyday. Lately I have not been able to motivate myself to write a grocery list. Oh well, such is the ebb and flow of amateur (very) writing I suppose. Anyways, here is a song that I have been listening to lately. As a person about to turn 30 I know it applies in a special way to me. Additionally, as a part of my job, I speak to many young men in their mid to late twenties. I am amazed at how often regret and shame resulting from past mistakes plague the new generation of "20 somethings." Read below and take what you want from it.

Lyrics in italics type
My commentary in regular type

I'm Moving On Lyrics
Rascal Flatts

I've dealt with my ghosts and I've faced all my demons
Finally content with a past I regret
I've found you find strength in your moments of weakness
For once I'm at peace with myself
I've been burdened with blame, trapped in the past for too long
I'm movin' on

I do not know what it is about our teenage years and early twenties that make us think we can do and say whatever we desire, and that there will be no consequences later in life. Habits that are developed as young men sink their roots deep within our personality by the time we reach our mid twenties. I will not list the laundry list of vices and disorders that we feed, but suffice to say that we continue to nourish them long after we can write them off as "adolescent misadventures." Some trace the roots of their disfunction to their parents or environment. Some claim to have a disadvantage from birth. By the time we pass through the enthusiastic ignorant era in our lives we realize that it does not matter one iota why we do and say the things we do, it only matters that we have created a pet that has outgrown its cage. This pet that we used to think co-existed with us turns into a full grown beast that consumes the better part of us at every opportunity. Depressing, huh? Oh well, we might as well admit it. We all have baggage that grips us at strategic times during the day and night. You know what I am talking about. Those moments of fear and shame that grip and paralyze you when you swear that others are going to see through your duplicity and you will be exposed for what you really are. We all have those moments. Some on different levels than others, but we all have them. When Christ enters your life he liberates you. He removes the chains that bind you to the past. However, the reality is that we continue to be haunted by our past because we are not capable of turning our back on it. Part of the maturation process as a Christian and as a human is to better cope with the past as you move along.

I've lived in this place and I know all the faces
Each one is different but they're always the same
They mean me no harm but it's time that I face it
They'll never allow me to change
But I never dreamed home would end up where I don't belong
I'm movin' on

Sometimes no matter how hard you try you continue to lose the war on the past within your own mind. You earnestly pray about it, and seek the Lord's help. You remove all evidence of past regrets from your life, but you still feel the past is present. Part of the problem could be that you continue to frequent places and people that are direct links to former problem areas. A drug addict who is fighting to stay clean would not be wise to continue living in a crack house. A person formerly involved in homosexuality would not benefit by continuing to see their old lovers. In many cases there is nothing harder or healthier than a clean break. It leaves you with a feeling of emptiness and loneliness, and can produce so much fear of the unknown that it seems impossible to follow. When we first start to see signs of the damage being done through our bad habits in our early twenties these strong feelings discourage us from making radical changes. However, as we mature we realize that we are at the end of ourselves and must make a change. We must either move on or become like those we see in their late fifties who never did.

I'm movin' on
At last I can see life has been patiently waiting for me
And I know there's no guarantees, but I'm not alone
There comes a time in everyone's life
When all you can see are the years passing by
And I have made up my mind that those days are gone

As the "roaring twenties" come to an end we are left with the reality of the type of person we want our children to see. We realize that the line the advertisements and movies tried to sell us is a lie. Our hairline recedes when they told us it would not. Somehow we did not become millionaires by working from home only 10 hours a week. We don't have a tight nucleous of life long friends living in the same apartment complex who are there to help us with every decision, and always forgive our mistakes within the same episode. We shake our heads in disbelief that we ever believed this, and blanch at the number of years we have wasted attempting to parallel this lifestyle. At that point there comes a fork in the road: Either continue to pretend to believe this lie and live a shallow life or make up your mind to put it all behind and move on.

I sold what I could and packed what I couldn't
Stopped to fill up on my way out of town
I've loved like I should but lived like I shouldn't
I had to lose everything to find out
Maybe forgiveness will find me somewhere down this road

All the trappings that we accumulated along the way that were so precious to us are sold for pennies at a last-ditch yard sale. What we can't shed is packed as baggage that will have to wait to be off-loaded at a later time. This is a move of desperation. This isn't the seemingly confident kid who had the world on a string in his younger days. This is a man who has had an epiphany, and realizes that every second he does not take action he becomes more deeply bound to his current state. This man deals from weakness for the first time in his life. His tunnel vision on breaking with the past is so intense that he doesn't look around for the approval of his "friends" before making his move. He had to be reduced to nothing to find out that he has the strength to move on.

I will speak for myself. I continue to make deals out of desperation more and more these days. The way I used to do things is just not working. I have followed the world's maze to the end, and find myself sorrounded by walls at every turn. When does the reality of Jesus (not religion or morals) become the most real to me? When I come to the end of myself. Obviously the Lord has a path that would be less painful in the end. If I chose this way it might not be "easy" for me, but I would have no regrets in the end. However, when I come to the end of myself and sit with my back against the wall of the dead end maze, the Lord does not laugh at me from afar and leave me to myself. He comes alongside and walks me back to His path. I am sure that it must be nice to walk along the Lord's path at all times, and never err. I am also sure I would have experienced less pain in my life. However, the experience and reality of redemption are the best "second best" one could ever hope to experience.

I'm movin' on

I'm going to move on.

America's Own Personal Jesus: Bad Religion

2006-04-26T14:02:00.000-07:00

Several years ago, a group called Depeche Mode released a techno/goth dance club anthem entitled, "Your Own Personal Jesus," which has since been recorded by the diverse likes of Marilyn Manson and Johnny Cash. Just as each of these artists has approached the song from a different perspective which reflects his "own personal Jesus," so it seems that our culture today desires to make God in our own preferred image rather than submitting ourselves to the God who created us in His image. Consider Dan Brown and The DaVinci Code, or the popularity of the “Gospel of Judas” and other Gnostic writings. Yet one does not have to drift far outside of evangelical circles to find “Personal Jesi” of various types. It seems that many have employed the idol-making factories of their imaginations by manufacturing an American Jesus. Drop into many American mega-churches and country chapels alike on any patriotic holiday weekend, and you will hear the gospel of this Jesus proclaimed.

In a New Yorker review of the book entitled American Jesus by Stephen Prothero, the reviewer writes that Jesus has "has slipped the bonds of Christianity altogether to become icon and brand, as American as Mickey Mouse or the Coca-Cola bottle." The title of Prothero's book may or may not find its origin in the song by the same title recorded by a group known as Bad Religion.

The lyrics of the song describe this "American Jesus":

I don't need to be a global citizen,

'Cuz I'm blessed by nationality,

I'm a member of a growing populace,

we enforced our popularity

there are things that seem to pull us under and

and there are things that drag us down,

but there's a power and a vital presence

that's lurking all around

we've got the American Jesus

see him on the interstate,

we've got the American Jesus

he helped build the president's estate

I feel sorry for the earth's population

'cuz so few live in the U.S.A,

at least the foreigners can copy our morality,

they can visit but they cannot stay,

only precious few can garner the prosperity,

and it makes us walk with confidence,

we've got a place to go when we die

and the architect resides right here

we've got the American Jesus

bolstering national plan

we've got the American Jesus

overwhelming millions everyday

he's the farmer barren fields,

the force the army wields,

the expressions in the faces

of the starving millions,

the power of the man.

the fuel that drives the clan,

the motive and the conscience

of the murderer

he's the preacher on TV,

the false sincerity,

the form letter that written by

the big computers,

he's the nuclear bombs,

and the kids with no moms

and I'm fearful that

he's inside me.

We've got the American Jesus

see him on the interstate

We've got the American Jesus

exercising his authority

We've got the American Jesus

bolstering national plan

We've got the American Jesus

overwhelming millions everyday, Yeah!

One nation under God

While I certainly do not want to endorse the worldview of this group or their songs, I do think they have accurately described what many people see of Christianity in America, and it is indeed "bad religion." While I could elaborate on many of the lines of this song, one line of this song especially stands out to me. After describing the attributes of this American Jesus, the band sings, "And I'm fearful he's inside of me."

Indeed, if this American Jesus is the one living inside of you, then there is much to fear, but He is not the biblical Jesus with real saving power. When we talk about God, we must realize that we do not have the authority to invent Him in a way that is pleasing or appealing to our own depraved desires. When God revealed Himself to Moses, He said, "I am who I am." That means, as Francis Schaeffer indicated, that we must deal, not with the God we might wish to invent, but with "The God Who is There." This is the God who incarnated Himself in Jesus Christ.

When we take a pseudo-Jesus and wrap him in the American flag to suggest that America is a new Zion and God blesses and endorses all that calls itself American, we have entered bad religion and made our own personal Jesus. I suggest that many in America today are guilty of blasphemy, heresy, and idolatry, because this is the Jesus I fear is living inside of them. And I suggest that many around the world have turned a blind eye and a deaf ear toward the true gospel because they have rightly seen through the red, white, and blue veneer of the American Jesus. They have deemed Christianity irrelevant because to them, it is America's religion.

So, the call today is for us to exchange this bad religion of the American Jesus for the true faith of the biblical Gospel which calls all peoples of the earth, even Americans, to repentance of all pride, all arrogance and prejudices and every other self-centered sin so that the Genuine Jesus might be enthroned in our hearts as Lord. And then through us, this Genuine Jesus might demonstrate His power by using our lives to bring glory to Himself among all nations.

American Christians, I want to ask you to do as the Apostle Paul said in 2 Corinthians 13:5 and examine yourselves. Examine the Jesus that is living inside of you. Is He the biblical Jesus who has a heart for all nations to worship Him, or is he the American Jesus whose blood flowed red, white, and blue for all those who live within our own boundaries. Pastors and teachers, examine your calling. God has not called us to advance a neo-Gospel of democracy or westernization. He has called us to proclaim the one true Gospel which is offered to all nations for salvation from sin. And non-Christians, please do not evaluate the Christian faith based on the “American Jesus” whom you often see portrayed and hear proclaimed. The genuine Jesus died for the sins of the world, including your own.

Thomas the Tank Engine

2006-04-16T18:10:00.000-07:00

As I write, my oldest son, Jonathan, who will be 5 next month is cleaning up after playing with his Thomas the Tank Engine train set. Jonathan’s love affair with Thomas the Tank Engine is not unique. After all, Thomas is really popular with most pre-schoolers. Thomas and his many friends are lovable characters (mostly steam engines but there are others) who work diligently on the Island of Sodor hoping to be “really useful engines” without causing “confusion and delay”. Most of Jonathan’s video and DVD collection is made up of Thomas episodes, and Jonathan has taught his little brothers, Matthew (age 3) and Stephen (age 1) to love Thomas and Friends as well. In fact, our baby boy, Stephen, now cries each time an episode of Thomas ends.

Jonathan’s love affair with Thomas began as a fascination. When Jonathan was a little more than two years old, we noticed that he wasn’t talking and had a tendency to line things up. Blocks, toy cars, even the pillows from the sofa would be lined up on our living room floor daily. This fascination with lining objects up along with a constant “hum” and “hand flapping” alerted us to the fact that Jonathan may be slightly autistic. Jonathan was diagnosed as such, but having been through a special preschool program, he will actually be attending a regular kindergarten class when the new school year begins this year. Anyway, this fascination with lining objects up has made trains Jonathan’s favorite toys with train stories his favorite to hear as well as train characters such as Thomas his favorite to watch.

Jonathan is so obsessed with Thomas that he has assigned everyone in our household a name of a character from his Thomas videos. Jonathan of course is Thomas the Tank Engine (the star of the show). His younger brother, Matthew, is a little engine named Percy (this makes sense because Percy is a slightly smaller steam engine). Jonathan’s baby brother, Stephen, is now referred to as Skarloey (again, this makes sense because Skarloey is an even smaller engine). Jonathan’s mom is now referred to as Emily, a feminine steam engine, who appears on some Thomas videos. And I, his dad, am referred to as Salty, a pleasant diesel engine who shunts freight cars down at the docks. Last year when our friends, Dennis and Cindy Conner were visiting, Jonathan kept talking about Gordon, the largest of the steam engines. We finally learned that because Dennis is such a large man, Jonathan had apparently and appropriately named him Gordon.

Everyday our home becomes the Island of Sodor in Jonathan’s mind and often Jonathan will function, solve problems, and relate to his family not as Jonathan but as Thomas the Tank Engine. I don’t know for sure if this imagination of his is enhanced by his autism, but I can’t help but to believe that it is.

I am writing about this because most of us have probably given some thought to what eternity will be like. And do we not envision that place with God in eternity as a “perfect” place? Well, in the mind of my son, the Island of Sodor, home to Thomas and Friends, is the perfect place. In that place, problems are solved simply; friends care for one another; and Sir Topham Hat, the owner and operator of the Sodor Railway, is always there to help, guide, and care for all the engines.

The Island of Sodor is not a place much different than other places or locations found in the pages of Children’s stories. In fact, in the stories that we read to our smallest children, the places almost always share the same characteristics no matter the story we read to them. Why? I don’t know for sure, but maybe children know that a friendly, familiar place is warm and secure. Perhaps, there is a longing for such a place in the minds of children. If so, imagine the longing that must exist in the minds of those children who are neglected and abused.

The Island of Sodor is most certainly a pleasant place. The steam engines come in all colors, but no color is favored (Galatians 3:28). The steam engines come in all sizes but the larger engines have no advantage over the smaller ones (Matthew 19:30). And except for Henry’s occasional “boiler-ache”, there’s not much sickness on Sodor (Revelation 21:4).

I have a growing sense that what Jonathan has is not so much a condition (autism) as it is a gift. Through the exercise of this gift, Jonathan is teaching me to long for eternity..... that perfect and pleasant place. Perhaps all children possess such a gift and perhaps that’s why Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 19:14).

The Silence is Deafening

2006-04-14T20:23:00.000-07:00

Frederick Douglass, great abolitionist and statesman, said "The simplest truths often meet the sternest resistance." How true that is. In the human quest to tackle every issue from a strictly empiric angle we have surely made fools of ourselves. We look in the mirror and think we see God, but our vision is skewed by our own vanity and ignorance. In the end we are no better than the tools with which we have been gifted. We think the dawn of immortality has arrived because we can clone a sheep. However, we can no more create life in the sheep than man could 5,000 years ago. Try as man may to be God, creatio ex nihilo is possible only by a Being which has no beginning. But this does not stop us from parading "Dolly" the cloned sheep as if man had finally solved a riddle in Genesis. We err by placing the glory of our accomplishments on our tools, while denying the Workman His just recognition (Romans 1:21-23). Meanwhile, our tools testify to the glory of the Creator much like the rocks in Luke 19:40. Follow this line of thinking in the lyrics below:

Sound of Silence
Simon and Garfunkel

Hello darkness, my old friend,
Ive come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone,
'neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence.

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more.
People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening,
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence.

Fools said I, you do not know
Silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take my arms that I might reach you.
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
And echoed In the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon God they made.
And the sign flashed out its warning,
In the words that it was forming.
And the signs said,
the words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
and tenement halls.
And whispered in the sounds of silence.

Throughout history man has attempted to fill the silence with all sorts of clamor. We cannot accept the rudimentary and simple verity of the silence because we are driven to conquer the disfunctions of our world using our own "creations." In our pursuit to replace the silence with manufactured noise we wander in the darkness like fools, unaware of our own blindness. Only when the "halo of a streetlamp" is lit in our spirits may we see the others around us blundering blindly as we once did. We see others worshipping the "neon god" which we once worshipped, however, now we can read the warning flashing on the sign. The sign warns that truth is not the sign itself, or any other marvel created by man, but can only be found in places that the vanity of man would never lead: subways and tenement halls. This repels the natural man on his quest for a spectacular discovery. He expects truth to arrive blaring its announcement over a loud speaker. He expects and demands that his efforts be rewarded by the sound of a marching band and bugle corps. He has come so far, but misses the faint whisper echoing in the darkness. All he hears is the unwavering sound of silence.
We, as natural men, search for God in a variety of ways. We have our charities and our alms to give. We set a strict moral code for ourselves, and may even be religious. We have a common belief that we are not beyond redemption within our own faculties. The idea that we are helpless to connect with God is ludicrous in our eyes. We certainly will not tolerate the idea that we need the help of another to avoid punishment by God. In the end we put our faith in our ability to heal ourselves, and pave our own path to righteousness. We put our faith in our tools. Proverbs 14:12 says, "There is a way that seems right to man, but the end is the way to death." The good news is that God in His mercy will turn on the "light" in our spirit, and reveal what is written in the words of the Bible. First Peter 3:18a says, "For Christ also hath once suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, that he might bring us to God."
In all that we do to fill the silence it is easy to become obsessed with the blinking neon sign, and never read what it says. Turn down the volume, and listen to the whisper in the silence.

1979: A Personal Testimony

2006-04-12T17:50:00.000-07:00

I stated in a past comment that my spiritual journey would probably make for some boring reading, and after reading Josh and Russ’ stories, I’m now certain of it. However, though my spiritual journey may not have taken me to a military academy or a war zone, I am certain that the drama in my own heart was intense. If both angels and demons were witness to my conversion, then perhaps the drama in that unseen world was even greater than I can know.

May of 1979 was quiet, but it was also the eve of transition and no one knew the extent of the changes that were coming. In less than a month, the “Conservative Resurgence” within the Southern Baptist Convention would be officially launched at their Annual Meeting held that year in Houston, TX. Adrian Rogers would be elected SBC president and nothing in Southern Baptist life would be the same again.

It was also the eve of the pop-rock resurgence. We were beginning to get our fill of disco, and before that summer would end, My Sharona, by “The Knack”, would end disco’s dominance at the top of the pop-music charts. The success of “The Knack” would be accompanied by several pop-rockers finding their way to the top of the
charts that year including “The Cars” and a resurgence of sorts by guys like Rod Stewart. If people rejected pop-rock, their only alternative in the next few years would be “new wave” or the arrival of pop-country thanks to the movie, Urban Cowboy. But for disco fans, it was pretty much over.

Things were about to change in Iran as well. As a result, we Americans were getting ready to spend a little more than a year having our six-o-clock news broadcast begin every evening with an update on the American hostage crisis in Iran. This crisis along with record leaps of inflation would decide the presidential election in 1980. But all these changes, though very close, hadn’t happened as of May. I was still listening to the Bee Gees on Top-40 radio; I had no idea who the Ayatollah Khomeini was, and like a lot of people in the South, I was still intrigued by the peanut farmer from Georgia who was living in the White House.

By May, I was just finishing up the fourth grade, and I had no idea that all these changes were coming. Some of these changes like the SBC thing, I would not know or fully understand until I was an adult. Nevertheless, I had plenty of things on my mind:

A few months earlier, I had watched Super Bowl XIII. I was rooting for the Cowboys (don’t know why), so I was still trying to get over the heartbreaking loss to the Steelers. 1979 was a big year for Pittsburgh sports; the Steelers won back to back Super Bowls in 79 and 80 while Willie Stargell and the Pirates won the 79 World Series. By the way, I was more heartbroken by the Steelers’ victory over the L.A. Rams in Super Bowl XIV than I was the year prior when they beat the Cowboys. Why? Well, Jack Youngblood is why. He was the best, and I just wish the Rams could’ve made it to the Super Bowl earlier in his career before Merlin Olsen retired. When Youngblood lined up at the defensive end position and Olsen lined up at defensive tackle, no two were better. Youngblood had heart; some of you may remember that he played with a fractured left fibula in much of the playoffs that year. Well, I’m getting a little too nostalgic, but these are just samplings of the things that I experienced at that time in my life.

I was among the generation of kids who grew up in front of the TV because there were no video games (except at the arcade), no internet, etc. My favorite TV shows in 79 included Buck Rogers, Battlestar Galactica, CHiPs, and a few others. Also in 79, you could occasionally find me at King’s Skating Rink. Mr. King built a new rink that year (it has since closed), and that was also the year that the Monroe Mall was under construction which was the beginning of the end for downtown Monroe as a retail center.

By May, I was playing Little League baseball and was a member of the Cub Scouts, and I was still trying to figure out why Jim Jones led all those people to commit suicide the previous November.

May of 79 was the eve of change, but one change that was coming was one that I never expected (or invited) due to the other affairs that normally occupy the mind of a fourth grader who is in the last few weeks of school before summer break. It was a warm May evening and darkness had fallen which means it must have been getting really late because we were well into daylight savings time. Yet, I was still outside. It was an off-night for us Little Leaguers, so I just hung around outside at the apartment complex where we had been living ever since my mom and dad had split-up four years (to the month) earlier. Back in the day, the apartment complex had a swimming pool. It is now gone and another apartment building sits on the site of where the pool used to be. I was standing in front of the metal storage shed that housed the pool’s pump and cleaning equipment when I was suddenly overcome with terror.

My thoughts could have been directed at any number of things that a kid my age would think about. Thoughts of Mrs. Price’s fourth grade class, my friends, and the Little League season are all things that were part of my life back then. But for whatever reason, all of these thoughts were interrupted with the holiness of God. I wasn’t at church listening to the pastor, but my encounter with God’s holiness at that moment was nothing like I had ever experienced at church.

The thought of God’s holiness created a dilemma for me because I knew that I, despite only being a child, could never stand before a holy God. The knowledge of God’s holiness brought an instant knowledge of my own sinfulness. And I even knew at that moment that there was absolutely, positively nothing that I could do to make things right. So, that was it; I knew I was doomed. I had probably heard about Jesus in church, but I didn’t know who He was or what He was, nor did I know what the cross was about. After all, Easter was when the Bunny came and left a lot of chocolate and other goodies at my house. Therefore, I concluded that I was doomed and there was no way out of it. Terror, dread, despair, and blackness, are all words that come close but do not really describe what came over me. When I say, “came over me”, I literally mean that I could feel it. I didn’t know Jesus, but I sure knew what hell was, and at that point, hell was my destination; I couldn’t avoid it, and there was no hope of altering the course that would lead me to it.

There is only one place for a child to go when he or she is in that position... Mama! It was there where I heard for the first time the redemption story and the restoration found in Christ alone. That night in the presence of my mom, my moment of despair disappeared as eternal life became mine in Jesus Christ.

The love of God is a love that I’m sure can’t be measured. But I also believe as R.C. Sproul has pointed out in his book, The Holiness of God, that God is just as holy as He is love. He is just as wrathful as He is merciful. I have no problem with that because in His mercy, He drove me to Himself with the reality of His wrath.

On second thought, my spiritual journey really was dramatic.

The Little Engine That Couldn't

2006-04-11T22:48:00.000-07:00

Josh's post has given me impetus to post this article on my spiritual journey. I hope that it will be of interest, help, and encouragement to those who read it.

I don't believe it is necessary, healthy, or productive to dig up all the bones of one's past to wallow in the misery of what might have been. So, I will spare you details of the first half of my life thus far. One of my earliest memories is of being in my dad's lap while he read to me, "The Little Engine that Could." I think I can, I think I can.

A little railroad engine was employed about a station yard for such work as it was built for, pulling a few cars on and off the switches. One morning it was waiting for the next call when a long train of freight-cars asked a large engine in the roundhouse to take it over the hill "I can't; that is too much a pull for me," said the the great engine built for hard work. Then the train asked another engine, and another, only to hear excuses and be refused. At last in desperation the train asked the little switch engine to draw it up the grade and down on the other side. "I think I can," puffed the little locomotive, and put itself in front of the great heavy train. As is went on the little engine kept bravely puffing faster and faster, "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can." Then as it near the top of the grade, that had so discouraged the larger engines, it went more slowly, but still kept saying, "I--think--I--can, I--think--I--can." It reached the top by dint of brave effort and then went on down the grade, congratulating itself, "I thought I could, I thought I could."

By the middle of my high school years I was dogmatic about two things: There is no God, and America is the greatest nation on the face of the earth (and I could have killed anybody who disagreed with either). My least favorite people were neo-hippies and Christians, because they stood against the two things I treasured most in my life.

I don't know how I arrived at my atheistic beliefs initially, but I know that as a teenager, I was taking full enjoyment of the moral liberty that atheism provided me. I was a rabid evolutionist and I hated anyone who was religious in any fashion. I can remember several Christians trying to befriend me, and when they would start in with their "sales pitch" I would become irate and start issuing my standard arguments about evolution, the problem of evil, the hiddenness of God, religious hypocrisy and whatever else I thought was convenient at the time. I was proud of driving many Christians to tears (though I think now that they were weeping for other reasons). The ones I couldn't defeat by fine sounding arguments, I would corrupt by drawing them over to the "dark side" of loose living. I remember several Christians, drunk at the Saturday night parties, inviting me to join them in Sunday School in just a few hours. I never accepted. Would you? People would say to me, "You can't make it in life without God." I think I can, I think I can.

My fervent patriotism began in the seventh grade. In a classroom one day, my closest friend and I decided that we both wanted to fly jets in the U.S. Navy. I began looking into how to actualize that career ambition and found that the most direct route ran through Annapolis: the U. S. Naval Academy. I made up my mind that I would do whatever it took to gain appointment to the academy and take flight off the deck of a Navy carrier. In high school, I enrolled in Air Force JROTC, and poured my life into it. By the end of my sophomore year, I realized that the chances of me taking flight were better in the Air Force than the Navy, so I switched directions and decided to "Aim High." Colorado Springs would be my goal. People would say to me, "It's really hard to get in, and it's really tough out there." I think I can, I think I can.

In March, 1992, I received the only thing I had wanted for six years of my life: the appointment letter. I was in. I had also received an ROTC scholarship that would pay all of my education expenses at any school where the Air Force had a program. When it was all totalled up, I had nearly a half-million dollars on promise from the US Government, leading my entire graduating class in scholarship monies awarded. I graduated June 4, and on June 28, I boarded a Delta flight bound in Greensboro bound for Colorado Springs. The two things I believed in most were still alive and kicking in my heart: There is no God, and all I want to do is fly Air Force jets and blow up Communists and Terrorists. Could I maintain those treasured ideas over the next 20 years of my life? I think I can, I think I can.

Dateline, Colorado Springs, US Air Force Academy, June 29, 1992. I strutted onto the beautiful campus of the Academy ready to sign my life over to Uncle Sam. First stop: Haircut. I didn't even give them the pleasure; I had it all shaved off the day before I left. Second stop: Medical. Walk down the hall and get poked by about 12 different needles. Third stop: Uniforms. There it was. My name across the right chest, number 96 right over top. The rest of the day: Push-ups. More push-ups. Dinner. More push-ups. That little train was chugging away. I think I can, I think I can.

When the time came for lights out, I hit my bunk feeling exhilarated and exhausted from the most incredible day of my life. I couldn't wait to get at it the next day. As the lights went out and my two roommates started snoring, I started thinking about many things. I could not direct the flow of thoughts as they raced through my mind, but I recognized suddenly that there was a great big piece missing in my life and I wasn't sure what it was. One thing I knew: I could not sign away the rest of my life until I found it. I walked out of my room to the XO's quarters and told him what was going on. He said, "Let me get the Chaplain." I said, "No, no, no. I am an atheist. You got a shrink or something?" They said, "Go to bed and we'll talk tomorrow." Honestly, the words came out of my mouth before I ever knew they were in it: "I can't wait that long, I have to go home now and find this missing piece in my life." You think it is hard to get into a service academy? It is harder to get out. After much debating, I finally said, "Look, we don't swear in until tomorrow. You don't own me yet. You have to let me go. If I change my mind, I will go through the swearing in and then I am yours." So I walked back to my room (somehow the hallway seemed longer now) and I went to bed. I arrived with two rigid beliefs. I lost my grip on both of them that day. Could I recapture either one of them? I hope I can.

The next day, I walked out of the campus quad through the "Quitters' Gate" beneath the sign which read "Bring Me Men" (they have since changed that sign to be politically correct). I came back home. People who patted me on the back now wouldn't look me in the face. I was a quitter, a loser, a failure in the eyes of most. I had no one to turn to, with one exception. Just a few weeks before I left for Colorado, a new friend had entered my life. Nate Veach and I had almost everything in common, except one thing: He was a Christian, I was an atheist. I called him and told him what I had done, expecting him to say what everyone else had said. Instead, he said, "Hey man, that's great. I am glad to have my friend back home." Over the next few weeks I practically lived at Nate's house. I even started attending church with him and his family. I didn't like it, but it gave me something to do on Sundays, so I tagged along. He didn't mind me being an atheist, and I was starting to grow more comfortable with him being a Christian. I was accepted by most of his Christian friends and family as well. Could I hold on to my atheism and my newfound Christian friends at the same time? I might be able to.

It wasn't many days after my return that my maternal grandmother died of cancer. Along with all my cousins, I was a pallbearer at her funeral. I can remember walking away from the cemetery that day wondering, "What really happens now?" Prior to that day, I was convinced that death was just a fade to black, and then nothingness. Could I still believe that? I'm not sure I can.

A few weeks later, Nate asked me to join him at a church youth camp. I just laughed. What in the world am I going to do there. Let's just say that he managed to convince me by appealing to one of our common interests: girls. "I'm in!" They gave me a Bible, and every morning, they actually made me read it. C. S. Lewis says that an atheist has to be very picky about his reading material. I agree. As I read this book that I had so ridiculed over the years, something began to click. Could it be that this was the missing piece? I was reading First Samuel 3 one morning and I couldn't help noticing a striking parallel. Every time God tried to get Samuel's attention, he ran off to Eli. "Samuel did not yet know the Lord; the Word of the Lord had not yet been revealed to him." Eli told him, "The next time, say, Speak Lord, for your servant hears." I prayed, but I didn't know to whom, "God, if you are there, and you have been trying to get my attention, I am listening today." The delight of that decision was soon overshadowed by terror. What if He really is there? Can I stand before Him after the life I have lived and my rejection of Him? I know for a fact that I can't.

That day it was as if all creation was testifying to me that God was there and that He had been pursuing me like the Hound of Heaven for many years. That night, it was explained to me that Jesus Christ had died for my sins so that I could receive God's forgiveness by turning from sin to trust Him as my Lord and Savior. Though I resisted for several hours, before we retired for the night, I burst forth in confession of my newfound faith in Christ. Could I deny Him any longer? I know that I cannot. I know that I cannot. Can I swallow my pride, renounce my atheism, and allow Christ to reign over me? I know I must, I know I must.

OK, long story made less-long, The last fourteen years have flown by so fast, it is dizzying to imagine. God has blessed my life in so many undeserved ways. And though I have failed Him often, the Lord has never left me, forsaken me, or failed to be faithful to me. I found the piece of the puzzle that was missing. And in light of all that He has done for me, can I rise each day with prayer and praise to Him, and dedication to His service and His glory? You know the answer. Choo-Choo!

Big Time in the Jungle

2006-04-11T15:47:00.000-07:00

Billy recently posted a great article on this blog in which he took an in depth look at the works of screen writer Stanly Kubrick. In this article Billy addresses the importance of Kubrick's work in films such as Dr. Strangelove and 2001: A Space Odeyssey. His comments have helped me to appreciate even more those artists who contribute to a certain idea or issue well before their peers. At the end of his article, Billy jokes that the movie Full Metal Jacket probably removed any possibility of us seeing a Belk in uniform for the next century. Most will recognize Full Metal Jacket as the 1987 Kubrick film in which the hard line Marine Corps Drill Instructor Gunnery Sergeant Hartman (R. Lee Ermey) introduces a platoon of Marine Recruits to the Marine Corps way of life. His training "techniques" make for a good Hollywood movie, and may have been practiced in Ermey's day (Ermey was an actual Drill Instructor from 1965-67), but are not an accurate depiction of acceptable behavior in today's Marine Corps Basic Training. Gunnery Sergeant Hartman's particular persecution of Private "Gomer" Pyle (Vincent D'onofrio) stands out in the minds of many as the focal point of the movie. However, after the Basic Training segment ends, the movie transitions to the war in Vietnam, and the recruits' (now Marines) role in combat operations.

The average American male in the early 1960s was raised by parents who directly contributed to the World War II (WWII) effort. This WWII generation is highly regarded as the generation of honor, hard work, and duty. This sense of duty was passed along to their sons and daughters. With the advent of the Vietnam War many young men volunteered to serve their country and prove themselves in combat much like their fathers had done. Thousands got their taste of combat, and realized that it is not what they saw in a John Wayne movie. Additionally, many military members and civilains were disillusioned about the war and the country's motives for entering into a conflict that seemed, to some, to have no relevance to the American way of life. By 1970 support for the war in Vietnam was at an all-time low, and many leaders were abandoning solid tactics and decision making for political capital. Feeling like they had been betrayed by their leadership, and divorced from society, American military members' morale plummeted to new depths. From this feeling of isolation and shame many military members rejoined society like a ton of bricks. Violence, dementia, drug abuse and unemployment plagued the ranks of returning Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Marines. During this chaotic time many artists such as Joan Baez, Bob Dylan and Janis Joplin began to express their views on what they percieved as an unjust war pregnant with ulterior motives.

This spirit of speaking out refined in the 1960s extended to the next generation of film makers, actors, and musicians through the medium of art. One such group of artists is a young bluegrass/folk band named Old Crow Medicine Show. With a sound born in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina, and influenced by the great Doc Watson, Old Crow Medicine Show (OCMS) brings a sound that is a refreshing reprieve from the synthesized, "perfected" music of many mainstream artists. Their version of Bob Dylan's Wagon Wheel combines high harmony with a rustic, unplugged resonance which keeps the listener scrambling for the "replay" button on their IPod. However, it is the OCMS song Big Time in the Jungle that is germane to this post. Big Time in the Jungle is an account of an everyday, ordinary American youth who volunteers for the Vietnam war in a rush, and quickly realizes that he made an uninformed decision. It could be the story, set to rhyme, of any innocent who came to know the hideous side of life in dismal circumstances. As you read the lyrics below try to imagine yourself as this young man from a secluded, rural town in America. Follow his line of thought throughout, and imagine how you would react if in a similiar situation.

Big Time in the Jungle

Down in Eutaw, Alabama in 1965
A young man ‘bout 21, no different than you or I
He’s catchin’ catfish, and gettin’ drunk
But Uncle Sam called, he called him up
Sent him out to Vietnam

That young man
Got his life turned upside down
Turned his smile into a frown
Robbed that king of his crown
For an ideal he didn’t even know about

He was gamblin’ at the wagon when that army man showed up
And he flashed that pen and paper
And ol’ Flukie he signed up
There’s gonna be a big time in the jungle
Gonna be a firefight
Gonna be a rumble
Send me out to Vietnam

I’ll fight ten men
I got nothin’ left in the States for me
I wanna see the world you see
I know that Uncle Sam needs me
To fight for an ideal I know nothing about

Oh the drop point was dusty and the drill sergeant was loud
And he could not see the corpses for the ragin’ dust cloud
Grab your duffle bags, head to the checkpoint
Welcome to Vietnam, boys, you’re in for a hell of a fight
Take it from the ones who know

The army moves slow
Hurry up and wait, don’t sleep late
And learn to hate your brother
Before you hate your foe

On patrol out in the rice fields, them choppers flew low
Glancing for the hand signal to tell you where to go
Then the bombs started fallin’
And they pounded his brain
And he thought about Eutaw and who was to blame For sendin’ him to Vietnam

For those of you out there bored with your present music collection, why not try OCMS? I can assure you that you will not regret it.

2001: A Postmodern Odyssey

2006-04-10T10:15:00.000-07:00

On average, Stanley Kubrick made probably two to three movies per decade during his career as a screenwriter. Yet, the few he did make are classics. My two favorite are from the 60s; they are (1) Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb and (2) 2001: A Space Odyssey.

I was well into adulthood before the Cold War ended, so as a kid, I always lived under the fear of complete nuclear holocaust. Being a satiric look at America’s fears following the Cuban missile crisis, Strangelove is one of my favorites because it allows me to laugh at the fear that always seemed to be in the back of my mind as a kid.

However, of all the Kubrick movies, my all-time favorite is 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968). Kubrick could’ve easily digressed into the nihilism of his 1960s, progressive contemporaries. Some may mistake 2001 as having a nihilistic flavor, but it does not. We may NOT know what Dave found when he reached Jupiter aboard the S.S. Discovery guided by the Hal-9000 computer, but he found something. Following the movie's Los Angeles premiere, on April 4, 1968, Rock Hudson left the theatre saying, “Will someone tell me what the hell this is about?” Hudson’s remark is exactly the kind of result for which Kubrick aims in his movies. In fact, Kubrick’s co-writer, Arthur Clarke, once said, “If you understand 2001 completely, we failed. We wanted to raise far more questions than we answered.”

The movie begins with the discovery of an artificial monolith by a group of prehistoric apes. This mysterious black slab supposedly conveys a measure of intelligence to these prehistoric creatures that eventually evolve into modern humans (the intelligence behind the intelligence). In the next scene, we fast forward a few million years to the end of the twentieth century when a similar monolith is discovered on the moon. Remember, in 1968, the year of 2001’s release, the U.S. space program was only a year away from landing a man on the moon, so the excavation scene that takes place on the moon in the movie is understood as a natural progression of moon exploration. Of course, moon missions fizzled out just a few years after they began, so 2001 turns out to be a not-so-realistic look at the future of space exploration.

The monoliths create a problem for humanity. They’re not man-made, but they’re not natural either. Thus, something is out there, so a mission to Jupiter is to be carried out in search of the unknown “something”. Other movies from this era include The Graduate (1967) and Easy Rider (1969); both are classic examples of the nihilism found in that era’s movies because nothing is resolved in the end making “nothingness” itself the theme. However, 2001 is refreshingly different. I am certain that nothing is resolved in the end, but when the movie ends we are still keenly aware that “something” (the opposite of nothing) is still out there. Unlike the nihilistic movies of the era, 2001 has as its theme “somethingness”.

A worthless sequel to 2001 was made in 1984 entitled, 2010. The sequel supposedly answered the questions left from 2001. This is very unfortunate because 2010 is NOT a Kubrick film. Thus, 2010 is counterfeit; a fake; a perfect example of 1980s excess... wanting everything now including concrete answers to the art that we were too shallow to understand or appreciate.

Because 2001 doesn’t resolve anything but does leave us with the idea of “somethingness”, I am going to go out on a limb and declare 2001 to be the first popular postmodern movie. I haven’t read this about 2001 anywhere although others may have reached the same conclusion without my knowing them or coming across them. Now, having read my bold declaration concerning 2001, you all are probably laughing out loud right now. After all, postmodernism wasn’t officially launched until after the hippie movement... right? Well, I’m convinced that Kubrick was ahead of his time.

In the 1960s (as well as the entire modern era), our savior was suppose to be technology. If anything could find the answers to the questions created by the monoliths in 2001, it would be technology and technological advancement. Therefore, in the movie, we are introduced to the HAL-9000 computer; this is the instrument that will allow man to carrying out his mission and find the answers to life’s ultimate questions. HAL stands for Heuristic ALgorithmic computer, but if you increment each letter of "HAL", you end up with "IBM". This connection with IBM seems purposeful given all the explicit references to other corporate brands in the movie such as TWA (offering non-stop service to the moon), Whirlpool, RCA, and the Bell System (pre-AT&T days) to name a few.

Unfortunately, HAL doesn’t get the job done. HAL doesn’t just fail; rather, he/she/it actually sabotages the mission. Kubrick teaches us that technology is not only incapable of providing answers to life’s ultimate questions but it actually becomes our own undoing. I find such thinking to be rather “postmodern” even though the movie premieres in 1968 (the pre-postmodern years). And isn’t it interesting that when the real year, 2001, came around, our own aeronautical technology was used as a weapon against us on 9/11 (and don’t forget that decades after we reached the moon, we can’t even keep our space shuttles in orbit here at home). I believe Kubrick pegged us long before the term, postmodern, was used to describe us.

Despite HAL’s meltdown, Dave, the lone surviving astronaut, manages to disconnect HAL and press onward. The last we hear of HAL, he/she/it is singing the song, “Daisy Bell”, as a slow death comes at the hands of Dave.

Whatever it is that is out there, Dave finds it, and we have no clue as to what it is, and Kubrick makes no attempt to explain it. At the end of the movie, most of us are frustrated, and we echo the words of Rock Hudson: “What the heck (Baptist version) was that?” But this is NOT nihilism because something is out there.

The “somethingness” that is unexplainable and to some extent unreachable fits postmodern thought perfectly. The movie’s message conveys that there is something, but we don’t know what it is, and we can’t know what it is. Yes, Dave seems to have reached it, but there was still nothing resolved in the end, and we weren’t even given the courtesy of seeing the connection between the ending and the monoliths that we see in the beginning.

Fortunately, the postmodern dilemma illustrated in Stanly Kubrick’s 2001, isn’t a dilemma for Christianity. We are not only aware of “somethingness” but we know who He is and we know the way to Him... I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me (John 14:6).

Oh! By the way, there is another Stanly Kubrick film, Full Metal Jacket, which probably serves as the single most reason why I’m not down at Parris Island with my blogger teammate, Capt. Wells. I bet that movie was a recruiter’s nightmare.

Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be Cowboys

2006-04-10T06:31:00.000-07:00

Well, I did it. I watched Brokeback Mountain. Has anyone heard of the movie? Sure you have. It might be the most notorious household name since Monica Lewinsky. Even the mention of the name has parents "ear muffing" their children, and grown men stammering to express their views based on what they heard. Now I am supposed to tell you how bad it was, and how many times I "almost turned it off." Additionally, I should immediately leap to the moral high ground and condemn the movie because it focuses on a homosexual relationship. I should isolate a few lines or scenes and then drive the nail home by whipping the fundamental crowd into a frenzy, and recklessly committing an assortment of ad populum fallacies. However, I have never been one to shy away from controversy, so I have decided to tell the truth.
I really liked the movie. I thought it was one of the best movies that I have seen in awhile. The acting, cinematography, and story line were first class. I must admit that there were scenes in the movie that deeply disturbed me. I watched the movie with my wife, and even in that comfortable environment I found myself without words during the more intense scenes. However, these scenes were integral to the movie without become the center piece. I will get more into that as we progress. For now I will stop writing, and try to address the 10-ton elephant in the room. The three people I have mentioned my viewing of the movie to all responded with something along the lines of, "What!? Why did you watch that trash?" I must admit that 9 out of 10 times, if the roles were reversed, that would probably be my response as well. I watched the movie simply because I want to be able to speak intelligently on the movie when asked. I did not want to presume that I can define Brokeback Mountain as a movie simply because I know that the two main characters are homosexual. Although not naive to the Hollywood agenda, I would never want to trade one party line for another. It is no secret that Hollywood goes beyond depicting the world around them, to aggressvively and puposefully forcing their program down our throats. After accepting his Oscar for Best Actor in a Supporting Role for Syriana, George Clooney made the following comment, "I would say that, you know, we are a little bit out of touch in Hollywood every once in a while. I think it's probably a good thing. We're the ones who talk about AIDS when it was just being whispered, and we talked about civil rights when it wasn't really popular. And we, you know, we bring up subjects. This Academy, this group of people gave Hattie McDaniel an Oscar in 1939 when blacks were still sitting in the backs of theaters. I'm proud to be a part of this Academy, proud to be part of this community, and proud to be out of touch (Blogcritics.Org)." I sincerely applaud Mr. Clooney for readily verbalizing what we have all known all along. I also applaud Hollywood for tackling some of the "ugly" issues with American and World Society that were as unpopular in their day amongst "conservatives" as Brokeback Mountain is in ours. In the 1950's it was Marilyn Monroe with her short skirts and suggestive behavior. In the 1960's it was segregation and the Summer of Love; both so breaking with traditional American Society that some believed God's judgement was soon to fall on our nation. This seems absurd now, but in the 1960's it was as big a controversy as the Red Army in Cuba. In the 1970's it was divorce, and in the 1980's inter-racial dating. None of us over the age of 25 will forget the 1993 movie Philadelphia in which Tom Hanks plays a homosexual attorney who contracts the AIDS Virus, and is discriminated against, and ultimately fired, by his employer when his secret is revealed. Looking back on these issues from the year 2006, it seems trivial and somewhat silly that movies, music, and art that addressed these issues ever created such a major concern in society. Certain issues such as the ideas of bigotry and discrimination would be defined by Scripture and Hollywood alike as wrong in any era. Other issues, such as homosexuality, have evolved to be acceptable in Hollywood and the eyes of some societal circles, but will never be acceptable according to Scripture (Gen. 9, Rom. 1). My intent is not to claim that ethics or morals are subjective to the society in which they are practiced. I do not take a pragmatic approach to Scripture, or the standards set forth within. I would simply like to put forth that the movie Brokeback Mountain is more than a movie designed to push the homosexual agenda. I am sure on some level there were intentions to use the movie to further expose mainstream America to certain gay ideals, but the movie itself does not paint a very flattering picture of the gay lifestyle. I think it does so intentionally. The two main characters, Jack Twist (Jake Gyllenhaal) and Ennis Del Mar (Heath Ledger) meet while tending sheep during a tumultuous summer in the mountains of Wyoming. Both had turbulent childhoods characterized by abandonment and paternal neglect. After some time (and more whiskey) the two find themselves romantically involved as a result of their loneliness, need for acceptance, and close quarters living. Both emerge from their tent the following morning vowing that it was a one time mistake, and that they certainly are not "queer." At the end of the summer they part ways, theoretically never to see one another again. Both go on to get married and have children. There is no contact for some time until Ennis receives a postcard from Jack. In the postcard Jack states that he will be in town in a few days, and would like to see Ennis. Ennis replies, "you bet" to Jack, and counts the moments until his arrival. Upon Jack's arrival he and Ennis depart for Brokeback, and spend days together "fishing." This semi-annual custom continues well into their late thirties when the two decide the logistics (Ennis lives in Wyoming, Jack in Texas) and ever suspicious excuses seem to be too much to overcome. I will not ruin the ending for the three of you planning on watching the movie, but suffice to say that the two of them do not move to San Fransisco and open a chain of Starbucks together. In the end Ennis is ruined, alone, and full of regret. Not quite the "lets grow old together" homosexual line we usually get from Hollywood.

Brokeback Mountain does portray homosexulaity. That is a true statement. However, the viewer most assuredly will not walk away from the movie feeling like they have witnessed the glorification or attempt to normalize homosexuality that one might expect. I do not intend this sarcasticly, but there are homosexuals in the world in 2006. There are also divorcees, inter-racial couples, AIDS victims, and other forms of those defined by society as "lepers." I am not advocating homosexuality anymore than I am advocating divorce. Both are wrong according to Scripture. However, would a movie about two divorcees be as controversial as a movie about two homosexuals? Is there a huge outcry when a movie comes out that features a serial murderer? How about premarital sex? Homosexuality makes a bigger wave because we find it more despicable. From a Biblical view, homosexuality is nothing more than an extreme manifestation of sexual immorality.

As we make our way through life we are bound to encounter people with world-views and ways of life that are almost polar opposite to ours. I must admit this makes me uncomfortable, and tends to have me looking for the nearest emergency exit. However, if we live life without challenging ourselves then we quickly become dependent on the familiar, and our lives become inconsequential and irrelevent to the world around us. Christianity would be easier if we could seal ourselves off in a compound sorrounded by those of like mind. However, we would have no impact on the world around us.

I realize this is a very difficult subject, and there are many mature christians who would disagree with me. In no way do I claim to be an expert on Christian Ethics and Entertainment. I hope this posting will help to eliminate some of our double standards concerning homophobia, and direct our efforts to dealing with the human race just as we are.

The Art of the City

2006-04-09T23:18:00.000-07:00

Ever since Billy Belk's fine post here on this blog comparing and contrasting The Andy Griffith Show with Seinfeld, we have had much interaction on the Urban/Suburban dichotomy. Much of the debate has centered on what we would all readily admit amounts to personal preference, we have also come to an agreement that there are certain theological principles that need to come into play in the discussion.

I noticed an illustration of this as I watched the film I (Heart) Huckabees this weekend. Christianity's cameo appearance in this film is not very attractive. The main character and his "other" are dining with a Christian family when the subject of "Suburban Sprawl" is introduced. The Christian family is represented as being very compassionate, while at the same time being passionately defensive about the suburban way of life. This was an uncomfortable scene for me, for I found myself siding with the non-Christians in their table talk. The saddest part of that dialogue is that it so accurately reflected the mindset of many Christians. Overall, the film was a disappointment on several levels, but this one scene is worth watching if for no other reason than it's illustration of our ignorance or indifference toward the theological ramifications of our indulgent lifestyle choices.

In his excellent book Art in Action (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1980; ISBN: 0802818161), Nicholas Wolterstorff introduces some key issues in the study of aesthetics. His title comes from his thesis, which is that "works of art are objects and instruments of action … whereby we carry out our intentions with respect to the world, our fellows, ourselves and our gods" (p3). The book makes several important points for helping Christians to think critically about the arts. Wolterstorff helps us to understand the difference between art in general and the "institution of high art," calling ultimately for a liberation from the latter so that we might employ, experience, and enjoy the former. He asks the question, "But what consequences can such liberation be expected actually to yield in our lives?" (p178). To provoke the reader to think through this, Wolterstorff deals with the question as it relates in particular to the city and to the church.

I want to focus here on his discussion of the aesthetics of the city. In this portion of the book, Wolterstorff wants us to look beyond the museums, libraries and orchestras of the city, to the art of the city itself. Wolterstorff claims that the aesthetic dimension of the city "affects all of us who live in the city, whereas those precious objects of high art installed in the city never affect more than a tiny proportion of the inhabitants" (p179).

The aesthetic dimension of the city, Wolterstorff says, consists of its urban space--the buildings, trees, and other space shaping objects. He suggests that some parts of the city's urban space, particularly the avenues and streets, form "channels" of directionality, movement, and restlessness. Other parts, the plazas and squares, form "open bays" of centrality and restfulness. So as one navigates through the city, there is a constant flux and flow of intensity and relaxation of tension. Moving through the channels, tension increases, but upon arriving at the bays, there is relaxation. This movement is the mark of aesthetic excellence in a city.

This can be experienced plainly on a walk or drive through Manhattan. The crowds, the congestion, and the constant hustle of the channels is constricting. But this fades into a calm relaxation when one approaches Central Park. The same is true of Boston. The Freedom Trail (a red painted line that leads to historical sites) takes the pedestrian tourist through some high traffic areas, across busy streets, and through hustling and bustling markets and business districts. But as one passes the Tremont Temple and Park Street Church, there is a vast expanse that opens above as the trail leads to the Boston Common. The same experience can be found in Baltimore, Toronto, Washington, London, Dakar, Nairobi, Vienna, Kiev, and countless other prominent cities in the world.

Wolterstorff chooses to contrast these cities with the cities of the American Midwest where this unity and variety is absent. He says they are "the epitome of blandness. Moving through them is anti-dramatic. It is as if there were a hatred of the city at work, a deep wish to be done with it as soon as possible" (182). Residents in these areas have no concern for urban space. Instead, these individuals dream of the "wide-open spaces" of the country.

The "closed, windowed container" we call a "car" is, according to Wolterstorff, the culprit for much of the decline and/or lack of interest in the aesthetics of the city. "The city is helpless to provide drama to the sequence of movements of those riding in automobiles," because of the constant "lunging and halting" of the traffic (182-183). In addition, because we have become so utterly dependent on the automobile, we have demanded to have roads and driveways and parking spaces in as many places as possible, virtually destroying any possible artistic beauty that the city could hold. Even for those who prefer to traverse the city by foot, Wolterstorff points out that there is the constant noise and danger of being surrounded by those in the automobiles.

What would the city be like if Christians began to exercise the dominion God gave us over the city? If we took our stewardship of urban spaces seriously, how would things change? How might we envision or engineer our cities if we viewed them as arenas wherein we might carry out the Great Commission and Great Commandments of our Lord? As Billy Belk has pointed out, we long for the day when we shall dwell in the City of God. Unfortunately, we may squander our opportunities to experience a foretaste of it here on earth because, "hatred of the city continues unabated. The ideal is to travel in one's self-contained automobile from the sanctuary of one's home to a large public building, there to park underground and to immerge in an inner sanctuary without ever stepping into the city" (183).

Wolterstorff concludes: "None of us knows … whether the city will once again become a thing of joy aesthetically, making of God's assurance to us that we will one day dwell in a new city a beckoning invitation rather than a repulsive horror" (183). Like Abraham, we are looking for the city which has foundations, whose architect and builder is God. In the meantime, God's people have the opportunity to build microcosmic reflections of that City in our cities, if only we will not retreat the comfortable confines of evangelical suburbia.

Let me close with the words of Chris Rice's song, "Me and Becky."

Becky has a house on Abundant Live Boulevard
A good name, good family, and butterflies in her yard
Becky loves Jesus and really wants to make Him proud
She tears up in church and she sings her harmonies loud
She's got a Bible by the bed, a prayer journal, and a fish on her car
She makes sure to bow her head and give thanks in every restaurant
But is that enough?

C'mon Becky, let's go for a ride
If I'm driving too fast then I apologize
But there's a world out there that we left behind
Full of souls as important as yours and mine
Looks like a reckless road, and a sacrifice
And I'm crazy scared it may cost our lives
But then I remember Jesus died
So c'mon Becky Let's go for a ride

I'm rolling up to Becky's house on my Sunday drive
I have to laugh to myself 'cause it looks exactly like mine
I smile and wave at all the happy people strolling by
We've got the same walk, same talk, and the same sparkle in our eyes
'Cause we're thankful for the blessings, but maybe we could lay 'em aside
I get a feeling we might be missin' the time of our lives
So hop in and hold on tight

Da Vinci -- Decoded

2006-04-08T08:20:00.000-07:00

I found this picture on the web which was allegedly taken on the grounds of Roslyn Chapel (DVC readers will readily recognize that site), and I just had to share it. Needing some content to post with it here, and not wanting to spend time writing a new piece, I thought I might provide some links to my articles on DaVinci Decoded over on my other blog.

My initial posting, summarizing DaVinci Code and pointing out the historical problems with it, is found at: http://russreaves.blogspot.com/2006/03/davinci-decoded-defending-faith.html

My second posting, "Was Jesus Married with Children?" is found here:
http://russreaves.blogspot.com/2006/03/davinci-decoded-part-2-was-jesus.html

The third posting, "Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary," is found at:
http://russreaves.blogspot.com/2006/03/mary-mary-quite-contrary-davinvi.html

The fourth, entitled, "The Emperor's New Clothes," deals with Constantine and can be found at:
http://russreaves.blogspot.com/2006/04/emperors-new-clothes-constantine-and.html

I also want to acknowledge the blog put together by Carl Olson and Sandra Miesel, authors of "The Da Vinci Hoax." Of all the books to come out, I think this one has been the best. It is written from a Catholic perspective, so Evangelicals will not agree with everything they write, but they have really done a better job with tackling the issues at hand. I recommend their book and their blog, which is found at http://insightscoop.typepad.com/davincihoax/2006/03/dan_browns_stat.html

Carl Olson has written a piece answering the question, "Why make such a big fuss over a work of fiction?". Find it here: http://www.ignatiusinsight.com/features2005/colson_justfiction1_mar05.asp

O Brother! Where Art Thou?

2006-04-08T06:06:00.000-07:00

I’ve not read Homer’s Odyssey, so I do not know what Homer intended to convey in the story. However, I enjoyed the movie, O Brother! Where Art Thou?, which was intended to parallel Homer’s Odyssey. The movie is not set in Homer’s ancient Greece; rather, the setting is Louisiana during the Great Depression. Things are not as they seem and before the final scene Ulysses, the main character, inadvertently receives the thing of which he needed the most... restoration.

Ulysses, Pete, and Delmar escape from the chain-gang because Ulysses supposedly has stolen money from a robbery still hidden on his property. Because the three are chained together, Ulysses tells Pete and Delmar about the money and offers them a share of the loot if they will escape together. Unfortunately, Ulysses property is just a few days away from being completely submerged under water because of a dam that has been built in the river nearby to create a new lake. This fact heightens the urgency of which the three convicts must escape and return quickly to Ulysses' home.

Ulysses is clearly vain and self-centered. He constantly worries about his appearance specifically his hair. I laughed each time in the movie when Ulysses woke from sleep thinking that something terrible had happened to his hair. This was comical because nightmares supposedly reveal our worst fears, and for Ulysses his greatest worry was his hair.

Pete and Delmar eventually learn the truth about Ulysses desire to escape from the chain-gain. There is no money; in fact, Ulysses was never even arrested for robbery. Although Ulysses property is a few days away from being flooded, his estranged wife is a few days from remarrying as well. It is this marriage that Ulysses hopes to prevent which was the real motive for his escape. Again, Pete and Delmar had to be tricked into coming along because the three had been shackled together.

Before the truth is revealed and while the three convicts are on the run, they experience a number of adventures. One scene finds them down by the river where a local church is baptizing its new converts. Sensing their own need for restoration and repentance, Pete and Delmar do not delay; they run down to the rivers edge, break in line, and make their way out into the water to the preacher and ask to be baptized. But Ulysses rejects the notion of repentance and salvation and seems to have a measure of contempt for Pete and Delmar for doing such a thing.

Ulysses, Pete, and Delmar have already wondered into a radio station that was doing a promotional stunt by allowing people to come by and make a record. The three convicts make a recording that is eventually played on radio stations throughout Louisiana. The three are referred to as the Soggy Bottom Boys, and they become the most popular singing group in the state. Yet, because they are on the run, they are unaware of their popularity. When their identity is revealed, the incumbent governor who’s running for reelection gives them a full pardon knowing that such a move would benefit his campaign due to their popularity.

Because the man to whom Ulysses wife was to marry worked for the other candidate and because the other candidate became unpopular, Ulysses has, at least for the moment, won back his wife. But has he found restoration?

Ulysses returns to his house (shack) and property to retrieve a ring for his wife so that they can be remarried. However, he walks into an ambush set by those who had been tracking the three fugitives. Ulysses, Pete, and Delmar try to explain that they had been pardoned and that the news of their pardon had even been reported on the radio. But those who had been tracking the three remind them that they have no radio. Thus the ropes are draped over the tree branch in order to hang the three and the graves have already been dug.

Certain death seems to be coming, but wait! Ulysses notices a trickle of water flowing across the ground. He then hears a roar. As he looks up, he sees a wall of water rushing from behind his shack; the day in which Ulysses property was to be submerged under the new lake has arrived, and Ulysses, Pete, and Delmar are swept away to safety by the onslaught of water.

The water I believe is significant to the story. Ulysses rejects baptism along with notion of repentance earlier, but in the end, Ulysses is overwhelmed by water... a baptism of sorts. I believe the scene is comparable to irresistible grace. Ulysses’ baptism was coming and he would not escape it.

In the final scene, Ulysses is not preoccupied with his hair. His pride and self-centeredness have vanished, and his only concern seems to be for his wife and her happiness as he follows her down the street. The final scene reminds me of Ephesians 5:25... Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her.

Ulysses has found restoration and sanctification. People may miss the beauty of how this movie ends with Ulysses following his wife down the street. He is not preoccupied with whether his wife his doing her job as a wife and being obedient; in fact, she doesn’t stop nagging him about that ring. But to be occupied with whether she is fulfilling her role is to be occupied with whether she is fulfilling his needs. But Ulysses has stopped worrying about his needs. He’s stopped worrying about his hair. He’s no longer the center of his own universe.

So what do we see? We see the once proud Ulysses loving his wife sacrificially as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her. This is restoration; this is the way it’s suppose to be; Ulysses follows his wife down the street... the screen fades to black... the end.

I Am A Man Of Constant Sorrow
By Norman Blake
(Performed by the fictional trio the Soggy Bottom Boys)
(Originally performed by the Stanley Brothers)

(In constant sorrow through his days )

I am a man of constant sorrow
I've seen trouble all my day.
I bid farewell to old Kentucky
The place where I was born and raised.

(chorus) The place where he was born and raised

For six long years I've been in trouble
No pleasures here on earth I found
For in this world I'm bound to ramble
I have no friends to help me now.

(chorus) He has no friends to help him now

It's fare thee well my old lover
I never expect to see you again
For I'm bound to ride that northern railroad
Perhaps I'll die upon this train.

(chorus) Perhaps he'll die upon this train.

You can bury me in some deep valley
For many years where I may lay
Then you may learn to love another
While I am sleeping in my grave.

(chorus) While he is sleeping in his grave.

Maybe your friends think I'm just a stranger
My face you'll never see no more.
But there is one promise that is given
I'll meet you on God's golden shore.

(chorus) He'll meet you on God's golden shore.

Comfortably Numb

2006-04-07T20:53:00.000-07:00

I was running in the 100 degree desert heat of Kuwait in late summer. Sweat was pouring down my face by the gallons. I was on a short timeline, and still had many more stops to make prior to the bus leaving for Kuwait City International Airport. Moments before a senior officer had turned to me and said, "Wells, pack your gear, you and I are leaving for Iraq in one hour." Additionally, he gave me a laundry list of miscellaneous equipment to secure for the two of us before the bus went "wheels up." I had to run to the Post Exchange (small trailer about a mile away) to purchase sundry items that we would need immediately in country. I also had to retrieve our entire combat load of ammunition, and all equipment that goes along with our primary weapons. I looked down at my watch which I had just set to Kuwaiti time. I had less than 10 minutes to pack my personal gear, and be present for roll call at the bus. With a little help from my friends I was still barely going to make it. I managed to throw all of my stuff loosely into my pack, and continue my mad dash with over 200 pounds to the bus. I have never been so happy to sit down in a cramped bus in my life. Fast forward through hours of riding, waiting, flying, waiting again, hiking (with 200 pounds), and a 10 minute truck ride. We arrived to our hooches (Marine for anything better than sleeping under the stars) at around 0300, and immediately crashed, dizzy and disoriented from our busy journey. The next morning we awoke to the sound of rockets impacting less than a half mile away. Being the new guys, we were obviously very concerned with our first taste of enemy fire. From our position on the floor of our hooch we could see what looked like people walking by. When we finally summoned enough courage to look outside, we saw fellow Marines carrying on normally with the plan of the day. We looked at each other, gave an embarrassed shrug, and proceeded to try and find the chow hall. It is kind of like the famous quote in, "A Few Good Men" when Tom Cruise asks the young Marine how he found his way to the chow hall, and the young Marine replies, "Sir, I just followed the crowd at chow time." That is exactly what we did. As we followed the crowd toward what seemed to be the chow hall I could not help but notice the crude sign erected at the "front gate" of the camp in which we were residing. In letters that practically took up the entire sign a dire warning was displayed for all to read. It simply said, "Complacency Kills". It made an impression on me, but, I must confess my mind quickly turned to eating for the first time in over 24 hours. Months later as I supervised Marines performing, and performed myself, jobs and tasks that become redundant in combat, I often thought of those two words when I felt myself hurrying through an evolution. "Complacency Kills, Josh," are the words that would echo in my mind as I looked into the trusting eyes of young Marines who were about to execute the plan or task that I was giving them. "Complacency Kills, Josh," were the words that haunted me at night when I tried to steal an hour or two of sleep. Don't get me wrong, I am not painting myself to be the ultimate leader of men. I made selfish mistakes that I will have to live with the rest of my life. "If I only could have been a little sharper." "If I only could have spent an extra few minutes on that plan..." Complacency does, in fact, kill. The mind, emotions, and spirit can only take so much before you develop a lethal coping mechanism which renders you numb. Nothing can get to you because you disassociate yourself with everyone and everything. At that point in time there were two Josh's. The one that was a shell of a human being, and could not be touched by pain, hunger, or fatigue, and the other that I forgot was there, that moment by moment ingested every bit of suffering and pain. I was only aware of the former. I cannot properly explain it. The best elaboration I can give you about that time was that I was numb to what went on around me, and that was better than engaging reality. I fiddled while Rome burned.

Not only a physical ailment, the condition described above applies spiritually as well. It is possible to be so calloused to the voice of the Holy Spirit that you build an outer shell and stiffen your neck to His proddings. You live in a maze inside your own mind that even those closest to you could never find in 1,000 years of trial and error. You give the appearance of emotion, but inside pride mocks the naivety of those who think they have reached you. You go astray in your heart. It is easy to continue this folly with those around you, but God is not confounded by even the most complicated defense mechanisms of man. The people of Israel were physically obeying God by journeying out of Egypt, but in their hearts they were far from Him. God, who knows all, was able to discern the condition of the heart. "The Word of God is alive, and sharper than a two-edged sword, piercing as far as the division of soul and spirit, of both joints and marrow, and able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart (Hebrews 4:12)." This is where religion parts ways with relationship.

The following song I think clearly illustrates the condition of which we have just spoken. Is it possible that we all allow our outer shell to live for us while we secretly nurture the "real me" inside? The only cure for this duplicity is talking, and listening, to the Lord. He alone knows where you start and end.

Comfortably Numb
Pink Floyd

Hello?
Is there anybody in there?
Just nod if you can hear me.
Is there anyone home?
Come on, now.
I hear you're feeling down.
Well I can ease your pain,
Get you on your feet again.
Relax.
I need some information first.
Just the basic facts,
Can you show me where it hurts?

There is no pain, you are receding.
A distant ship's smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves.
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're sayin'.
When I was a child I had a fever.
My hands felt just like two balloons.
Now I got that feeling once again.
I can't explain, you would not understand.
This is not how I am.
I have become comfortably numb.

Ok.
Just a little pinprick.
There'll be no more ...Aaaaaahhhhh!
But you may feel a little sick.
Can you stand up?
I do believe it's working. Good.
That'll keep you going for the show.
Come on it's time to go.

There is no pain, you are receding.
A distant ship's smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves.
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're sayin'.
When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse,
Out of the corner of my eye.
I turned to look but it was gone.
I cannot put my finger on it now.
The child is grown, the dream is gone.
I have become comfortably numb.

I am not looking for sympathy. If you want to give sympathy, give it to the real heroes of the Battle for Fallujah: The young, enlisted Marines who never questioned orders, and carried out their duty like United States Marines. I personally witnessed these young men defy limitations, conditions, weather, and horror on a daily basis to complete the daunting task of seizing the last bastion of the Insurgency in Iraq. I will never forget them, and the job they did.

Click here to listen to "Comfortably Numb," or right click to open in a new window.

Vincent van Gogh

2006-04-07T17:58:00.000-07:00

This blog site seems to be a more appropriate place for my Van Gogh article which by now was buried deep in the archives at billybelk.blogspot.com , so I decided to move it here...

A few years ago my wife, Linda, and I were browsing through a store, and I found prints of four paintings by Vincent van Gogh. Being a fan of Van Gogh, I attempted to talk Linda into allowing me to purchase the four prints. Unfortunately, my taste in home décor varies a bit from Linda’s, so she was not about to allow me to hang Van Gogh prints in our living room. I must say that my appreciation (or perhaps fascination) for Van Gogh transcends his artwork. Van Gogh’s life was/is an example of a great universal need known as “redemption”.

Vincent van Gogh was born in the town of Groot-Zundert, Holland, in 1853. Van Gogh was a brilliant artist, but unfortunately, he was mentally unstable. As an adult, Vincent moved to Paris hoping to find success as an artist. After spending two years with his brother, Theo, himself an art dealer in Paris, Vincent traveled to the city of Arles where he worked alongside painter, Paul Gauguin. However, the two artists often quarreled, and, in the aftermath of one very intense argument, Van Gogh, being as unstable as he was, cut off a portion of his ear and had it delivered to a prostitute. Realizing that his own instability had gotten out of hand, Vincent van Gogh committed himself to an asylum where he continued to work at his painting. During that difficult time Van Gogh continued to receive sympathetic encouragement from his brother. Nevertheless, Vincent van Gogh shot himself to death in 1890.

I was thinking about Vincent van Gogh earlier in the week when one of his paintings made headlines. It turns out that one of the paintings that Van Gogh created while in the asylum may bring well over 40 million dollars when it’s auctioned off this May. The painting is called: “L'Arlesienne, Madame Ginoux” and its subject is the person who was Van Gogh’s landlord at the time he cut off his ear.

There are two dimensions to Van Gogh’s story; one is the art and the other is the artist himself. Here is the irony between the two: The artwork seems to have found something that eluded the artist his entire life... redemption! After all, if something is worth 40 million dollars, it has become rather valuable to say the least. But as valuable as the artwork has become, is it really worth more than the artist or any human being for that matter? Consider Psalm 49, verses 7-8... Truly no man can ransom another, or give to God the price of his life, for the ransom of their life is costly and can never suffice.

Being a fan of his artwork, I’m glad that Van Gogh’s art continues to increase in value, but my heart breaks for the artist who never understood the value of his own life. Van Gogh’s story has reminded me again that people are far more valuable than the objects we seem to covet. May the hearts of all evangelical Christians break at the thought of redemption eluding our neighbors, and may such heartbreak stir us to action. And if we are ever tempted to question the value of man-kind, I would challenge us all to look again to the Cross and understand the price paid for the redemption that is ours in Christ alone.

Paranoia in the Ranks

2006-04-07T10:00:00.000-07:00

"A psychotic disorder characterized by delusions of persecution with or without grandeur, often strenuously defended with apparent logic and reason."

Sound familiar? Read any recent postings that would fall into the reaches of this definition? The most recent posting on our friend "Dooley" might come to mind. On one hand we have a hard working, salt of the earth, illiterate man (Dooley) doing what he can to feed his family. Maybe he didn't work in the local mill because he refused to join the mob-controlled union. Maybe he was victim of an accident, and did not receive workman's compensation because there was no OSHA in those days. Maybe he just didn't get along with the foreman because he kept hitting on Dooley's daughter, and taking away from her "spout watching time". I don't know, and neither do you. We certainly do not have enough information to pass judgement on poor Dooley anymore than we do to pass judgement on the authenticity of Constantine's faith. What we do know is that the over-educated minority (Read: Russ) are having a field day making sport of our traditional values heroes. These academics would have us willingly concede our most precious social customs and history. This is how it all starts. A minority of elitists telling the majority that they should give up a certain right or privelege because "it is in your best interest." The next thing you know the SBC Headquarters will be in the Oval Office. I know there must be other grass-roots, myoptic hard-heads out there who will refuse to listen to the questioning of our "way of life". Remember, you don't need to know why you don't agree. Just disagree because you "don't like change", or because "Russ has a Harvard mouth". Whatever reason you choose to disagree, stick by it even if you have no logic or ability to defend it. This is a long standing tradition amongst us "Mayberry Boys", and one that will not be taken from us by some "Johnny-come-lately" theologian. I have a song quote below that I believe best exemplifies the life and times of Russ. Take a look and see what you think.

Momma died young giving birth to a son, in a home for wayward girls
Daddy was sidewalk, soapbox preacher looking forward to the end of the world
Every friday night he’d pick Jesus a fight down at the local pool hall
Racking up souls, condemning all those caught behind the eight ball
He said I preach for the light - the light shows the way
Don’t ever trust what the government may say
We never walked on the moon, Elvis ain’t dead, you ain’t going crazy, it’s all in your head
(Diamond Rio, Its all in your head)

Disclaimer: Because this matter is very serious I hope readers are able to determine where sarcasm and good-natured joking end, and where the very serious message Russ is communicating begins. I completely concur with Russ that human defined morality and being a "good person" does not bring favor with God. Only through redemption found in Jesus Christ can one know he or she will spend eternity with God. I, like my cohorts, encourage you to ask the hard question: Do I know Christ, or know about Him? Please do not hesitate to contact any of us if there is any doubt in your mind.

Happy Easter, Dooley!

2006-04-07T07:24:00.000-07:00

Our commentary on Billy's "Seinfeld vs. Andy" is becoming quite involved now, and one of our cohorts here has introduced in those comments the old bluegrass standard that Andy often "scrubbed off" with the Darlings -- "Dooley." I confess I wish they had decided to play "Don't Hit Your Grandma with a Great Big Stick," at Charlene's wedding, but Charlene protested with, "No, Paw, that one made me cry." Perhaps the greatest line in Andy Griffith history is from that episode -- when Andy was helping Briscoe Darling put on his tie, Briscoe said, "Ever since I saw a hangin', I been nervous about wearin' one of these things." I feel that way every Sunday morning. I tell people if you see me in a tie, it must be Sunday, or else somebody died. (While I do have most Seinfeld episodes memorized, I had to go to the web for help with these quotes -- http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0053479/quotes)

Now to ole 'Dooley. Yes, Dooley was just the kind of guy that Suburbanites idolize. He lived "below the mill," but he didn't work at the mill like the rest of the community around them. Instead, he supplied them all with their brain-damaging, family destroying, bankrupting moonshine. Just the kind of guy every Suburban community needs (AND HAS!). The original American Idol! The modern day equivalent is the homeschooling, stay-at-home, meth-lab operator. Steve Earle provided music fans an update of Dooley when he penned "Copperhead Road." Ice-T brought Dooley into the modern era with "Cop Killer."

Dooley was "a good old man" in the eyes of the world. He was a family man --
he worked side by side with his wife (maybe by "common law") and his daughters. But don't say he was a "bad person" (the most intolerable insult in modern Suburbia). That's judgmental, because there are no moral absolutes (even Andy didn't have any apparently). He's just a "good old man" ... "trying to make a dollar." And he even extended good credit to his patrons. "Give me a swaller, and I'll pay you back someday." I wonder which came first: Dooley or Wimpy ("I will gladly pay you Tuesday for a hamburger today!"). Perhaps we have found the origin of our culture's addiction to consumer debt. "Give me a plasma screen TV, and I'll pay you back someday." "I will gladly pay you Tuesday for an SUV today." (And don't even get me started about the SUV obsession in Suburbia).

Well, ole' Dooley ran into some legal trouble when the intolerant and tyrannical "revenuers" came to shut his industry down. What? Did they not care about his family? About his financial entrepreneurship? Man, the nerve! But Dooley was smarter than they are (the bad guys usually are). He didn't get caught, didn't loose any product. Just like the smooth operators I see plying their wares across the fence at the hotel beside my office.

And sure enough, the day came when Dooley met his maker. But let's don't think unpleasant thoughts on such an occasion. Let's just say, "Dooley's on the mountain he lies there all alone;
They put a jug beside him and a barrel for a stone." I wish that were true. One thing I miss about being an atheist is the belief that when lost people die, they just fade to black and their remains are thrown into the ground. But I don't believe that. I can't believe that. Dooley is not on the mountain. Dooley is in hell. And those who knew him best don't care. They aren't crying because Dooley will perish eternally. They are crying because they lost their supplier. (Cue Roy Orbison, "Cry-iii-ing over you!"). I have preached many a-funeral, and when I know that the deceased was an unbeliever, I am overwhelmed by the emotion expressed by his or her loved ones. But most of all, I am appalled at the fact that their outbursts are only reflective of the human loss -- no more fun, no more picnics, vacations, holidays, no more family get-togethers. There is no concern for the fact that the dead relative or friend is perishing eternally apart from the presence of God.

By the way, I am equally as appalled at some "Christian funerals" when the high mark is the celebration that "We will all get to see this dear friend again when we get to heaven!" John Piper asks, "Would you be happy in heaven if God was not there?" Meaining, suppose you could go to heaven, see all your dead relatives, never be sick, never have any need for anything, and the only thing is, God isn't there. Would you be happy? Piper says if you would, you aren't saved, or else you are desperately immature in your faith (I would recommend "God is the Gospel" to read more in this line of thinking by Piper). The highmark of a Christian funeral OUGHT to be that this loved one has received the inheritance laid up for him or her through the cross and resurrection of Jesus and is standing face to face with Christ at this very moment. Anything less than that is blasphemous!

Back to Dooley. Not on a hill, but in hell. Not alone, though I guess it feels that way in the place of outer darkness separated from God's presence. He's a "good old man." Just not good enough. Because none of us can be "good enough." God's righteous standard is higher than any of us can achieve. So is God unfair? No. Because He came to us and satisfied the standard on our behalf in the person of Jesus Christ. And after He did that, He died to take our place under the wrath of God. And after that, He conquered death on our behalf in the Resurrection. And He did not do this so we could scatter candy-filled eggs all over the yard and lie to our children about some overgrown, egg-laying bunny rabbit. He did it to save sinners. He did it for all the "Dooleys" out there -- sinners like you and me. Christ did all this to make sinners holy, not to make good people better.

Maybe if little churches in little towns like Mayberry, and BIG churches in BIG Suburbs, would start preaching that message instead of the Seven Snappy Secrets to Soul Satisfying Sex, or the Pillars of Productive Pet Ownership, or the Building Blocks to a Better Batting Average, or The Critical Need for Spelling Reform in Our Day (my apologies to C. S. Lewis on that last one, see "Screwtape"), people like Dooley could find out before it's too late that God isn't looking for "good men and women." He is looking for absolutely-completely-totally-perfectly-sinlessly righteous and holy people. And there aren't any. But God offers to take sinners like you and me and Dooley, and remove the stain of our sins, and cover us in the absolutely-completely-totally-perfectly-sinlessly righteous holiness of Jesus if we will bow the knee to Him as our Lord and Savior.

So, Happy Easter, Dooley. Wherever you are. And Happy Easter to all those like Dooley. He did it all for you.

Click here to hear "Dooley" (Right click to open in a new window)

Andy Griffith or Jerry Seinfeld?

2006-04-06T17:17:00.000-07:00

Since this blogspot is about the sacred making its way into the arts of our culture, I thought I might add an article concerning our culture’s most popular art forms which no doubt include television and motion pictures. I hope that I’m not overstepping the boundaries of this site by bringing television into the mix.

I was born in North Carolina, grew up in North Carolina, and still live in North Carolina. But unlike most of my North Carolina neighbors, I absolutely, positively, do NOT like the Andy Griffith Show which was about a fictional town in North Carolina known as Mayberry.

Here’s the problem. For most southerners, the Andy Griffith Show supposedly represents everything that was right about southern, small town living in a bygone era. For others, it represents simplicity and a wholesomeness that is utopian in nature. In fact, I would be willing to bet that most fans of the Andy Griffith Show would actually live in Mayberry, NC, if given the chance.

Unfortunately, Mayberry is as deceptive as the serpent in the Garden. Life in the pre-1970s South with its racial tensions and poverty was NOT the utopia that everyone nostalgically remembers.

The Andy Griffith Show was actually filmed at Desilu Studios in Hollywood, CA. Thus, not only did the town of Mayberry not exist, but it was merely the figment of a screenwriter’s imagination. For the most part, these facts are understood but simply ignored, and although the Andy Griffith Show was meant to be comedy, it is taken way too seriously by way too many southerners as a way of life to which we should return.

The most unfortunate aspect of the Andy Griffith Show is that it is seen as wholesome. In fact, there are on the shelves of certain Christian bookstores the Andy Griffith themed Bible studies. Even though some scenes include the cast sitting in a church, there was nothing even remotely Christian about the show and no aspect of Christian doctrine is ever dealt with. How you base a Bible study curriculum on Andy Griffith is beyond me, but this is what makes the show so deceptive.

It’s as if some people actually believe that redemption can be accomplished if we just return to a “Mayberry-way-of-life”. But Mayberry existed in Hollywood not North Carolina. Andy Griffith himself is not nearly as politically conservative as the southerners who worship him. Don Knotts’ character, Mr. Foley, on Three’s Company is probably a better description of his actual disposition than his character, Barney Fife. Andy Griffith and “Aunt Bee” actually feuded in real life and hardly spoke to one another when off camera. Of course, I don’t have to remind all our loyal blogging fans that Gomer was/is gay. Otis Campbell celebrated drunkenness; Ernest T. Bass celebrated stupidity while the Darling family celebrated ignorance.

Even Opie was nothing more than a pawn to help the show teach us moral lessons, but do we really need moral lessons? I already know that I need to do better; tell me something I don’t know. “Do better” shows are as bad as “do better” preaching. I don’t need a moral lesson; I need redemption, but it will never be found in “do-better-Mayberry”.

My all-time favorite television show is Seinfeld. The writers of Seinfeld NEVER attempt to teach a moral lesson. Rather, the writers use their cast to poke fun at all of our irrational obsessions. When we laugh at Jerry, Elaine, George, and Kramer, we are actually laughing at ourselves, and in doing so, we learn much about ourselves.

I know that the story of redemption is not told by Seinfeld, but that’s because Seinfeld makes fun of all our culture’s obsessions in which we think redemption can be found. So yes, redemption is missing from Seinfeld, but at least the writers are honest about it which is more than can be said about the writers of Andy Griffith. In fact, it is Seinfeld that leaves our culture with this question: Can redemption even be found? Well, isn’t that life’s ultimate question, and isn’t that the question that we Christians actually want our neighbors to ask?

Seinfeld was described and promoted by its producers as “a show about nothing” but nothing could be further from the truth. Seinfeld was and is a show about us.

Hurt

2006-04-04T18:35:00.000-07:00

I just watched American Idol for what seems like the 52d week in a row. Is it me, or are the performances becoming thread-bare? Don't answer that. Seems like America is more passionate about American Idol right now than the war (Shhh! Don't tell Russ I mentioned the unmentionable), March Madness and Opening Day combined. Don't want to ruin my chances of being a Blog-Land Legend on my first contribution by even hinting at the fact that Ace Young singing country music is as wrong as two boys kissing. Anyways, I guess the tie that binds, and theme of this Blog, is a look at secular music, and the spiritual contained within. The point of the dialogue is to examine secular music and attempt to decipher whether the song speaks about more than (1) Making money (2) Having Sex with as many women possible (3) Glamorization of Smoking weed/injecting heroin/pick your poison (4) Murdering/beating up someone you don't like. I do not claim to speak on behalf of the other contributors, but I think that it just might be possible to enjoy music that is not straight out of the church hymnal or off the back of the morning bulletin. (I think I just heard all five people who will read this blog audibly hiss at me) All I can say is please hang on until the second verse before you tattoo a Scarlet "A" on my chest.
I have to admit that if my friend Russ would have never opened the door to the world of blogging I would not have found it myself. When he mentioned the idea of creating a site like this I jumped at the opportunity to communicate (if my wife could hear me say that!) my opinions and beliefs on issues in a public forum. Also, I think Russ is excited about this site because he has given me access to a mutual site while still holding the "plausible deniability" card. So, without further ado, here is the opening pitch...

Redemption, sorrowful repentance, learned wisdom, purity, and the futility of the temporal world and its trappings. I am no theologian, but I would say that these are rock-solid Biblical principles and themes. Redemption is the omnipresent theme in Scripture. God speaks of creation and perfection for the first two chapters of the Bible, and then speaks of redemption throughout the rest of Scripture. The prodigal son was more than sorry due to the fact that he had run out of money, he was genuinely stricken to the core with contempt for his wrong doings (Luke 15:18, 19). Solomon asked for wisdom, but displayed very little as a young man. He defiled himself with idolatrous wives from forbidden lands and indulged heartily in the depraved opulence of his creation. Later in life, when Solomon realized the squandering of the best years of his life, the book of Ecclesiastes wrote itself.

The rave of the moment, it seems, in Hollywood is the life and career of Johnny Cash. Many have seen the 2005 movie Walk the Line with Joaquin Phoenix and Reese Witherspoon. It is no secret that Johnny Cash struggled with adultery, drug and alcohol dependency, and instability early in his life. He left his first wife to marry the love of his life, June Carter. Johnny Cash opened doors for musicians of all types and genres that will never be shut. His voice and music are truly unique in a sea full of boy bands and sell-outs. Later in life Mr. Cash, like Solomon, plowed head first into the wall he had built between himself and a righteous God. When he found redemption Johnny exercised the gifts the Lord had given him to bring glory to Him. He recorded several gospel albums that sold many copies. However, it is the raw, exposed, and open words sung by this dying man that pierce beyond the polite emotion of mainstream Christian music. His words are not a celebration of depravity, but an honest assessment of where he was, and where he is at the moment some 40 years later. Read for yourself.

Hurt

I hurt myself today, to see if I still feel
I focus on the pain, the only thing that's real
The needle tears a hole, the old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away, but I remember everything

What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know goes away in the end
And you could have it all, my empire of dirt
I will let you down, I will make you hurt

I wear this crown of thorns, upon my liar's chair
Full of broken thoughts, I cannot repair
Beneath the stains of time, the feelings disappear
You are someone else, I am still right here

What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know, goes away in the end
And you could have it all, my empire of dirt
I will let you down, I will make you hurt

If I could start again
A million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way

I am not advocating that we sing this song on Sunday mornings, or teach it to our children at Vacation Bible School. I am not planning a hostile takeover of the hymnal. I would simply like to place the idea on the table that not all secular music misses the mark. Close scrutinization will sometimes reveal truth and ideas to which we would never expose ourselves while operating within our comfort zone. Certainly there are some artists and lyrics that clearly fall into the "untouchable" column for Christians. Scripture, The Holy Spirit, and sensible discretion will clearly delineate these parameters. If there is one thing I would like to be taken away from this article it would be to not damn all secular music with one fell swoop. Some like only music from the hymnal. Some like traditional and contemporary Christian music. Some like all forms of Christian music, plus they dabble on the wild side with a little Whitney Houston or Smokey Robinson. There are even some Christians who like rock and roll. Johnny Cash was one of them. The song "Hurt" was written, and originally performed, by a young man named Trent Reznor. Reznor is also well known for being the lead singer for the band Nine Inch Nails. Johnny connected with the message of the song, and made it uniquely his. I think it is possible for us to do the same with a good portion of mainstream music. I would imagine many people disagree.

Click here to listen to "Hurt"(right click to open in a new window)

On Music After God's Own Heart

2006-04-04T11:51:00.000-07:00

My wife Donia asked me as soon as I walked in the door, "Did you read Colson's article in Christianity Today?" I hadn't, so she said, "Here, check it out." Wow. There really are more out there than just me who have become disgusted with self-absorbed, meaningless, endlessly repeated little ditties that work people into a Grateful Dead-Like trance in the name of worship. If you haven't read it, the article is called "Soothing Ourselves to Death," and though the rest of the current issue lacks much of interest, this one-page article is worth your reading it.

Colson says, "[O]ne Sunday morning I cracked. We'd been led through endless repetitions of a meaningless little ditty called 'Draw Me Close To You,' which has zero theological content and could just as easily be sung in any nightclub. When I thought it was finally and mercifully over, the music leader beamed. 'Let's sing that again, shall we?' he asked. 'No!' I shouted, loudly enough to send heads all around me spinning while my wife, Patty, cringed."

Where can we find a voice being lifted to really reflect God's own heart if not in the church? Well, I have stumbled on one source that may surprise you. Ever since the movie "Born on the Fourth of July" came out, I have reflected on the words that Edie Brickell hauntingly sings on the remake of Bob Dylan's "Hard Rain's Gonna Fall." I confess I would rather hear her sweet voice sing it than Dylan himself. I have always thought that this song had a powerful message.

In the IMB news I received in email, I found another voice of agreement. Erich Bridges writes about how this song paints graphic pictures of the lost and broken world in which we live. If you have been blessed to travel outside American borders, you can relate to the imagery (lyrics in italics; my commentary in plain-type):

Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son? Oh, where have you been, my darling young one? I've stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains, I've walked and I've crawled on six crooked highways, I've stepped in the middle of seven sad forests, I've been out in front of a dozen dead oceans, I've been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard, And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard, And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

As I hear these words, I think about a dozen prayerwalks I have been on across this planet. And when I return, people say to me (I do have blue eyes, by the way), "Where have you been?" Can words even relate it? Can I with words make them feel the instability of rocks and dirt sliding beneath your feet? Can I tell them of the "roads" I travelled to reach villages where no white man had ever been seen, and no Christian witness had ever been presented? Can you describe with words what it is like to put your feet in the Atlantic and watch the sun go DOWN, with the stench of a mountainous garbage heap to your back? Or how it feels to walk in the footsteps of camels on the shores of the Indian Ocean? Or to gaze across a roughshod cemetery where what few stones there are have crescents instead of crosses adorning them? To walk across a parched town that is being invaded by the Sahara desert?

Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son? Oh, what did you see, my darling young one? I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it, I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin', I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin', I saw a white ladder all covered with water, I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken, I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children, And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Yes, I have seen all these things and more. The world is saturated with monuments to our depravity. And if you only read about it in the paper or watch it on television, you are safe. But if you see it with your eyes, if you smell what they smell, if you eat what they eat, it will affect you to the core. "Pastor," they say, "Why do you care so much about the lost people in Africa?" Oh, it is because I've been there. And I have looked them in the eye, and I have taken them by the hand. And I have done so knowing that they have never met a Christian before in their lives. And like Livingstone, the smoke of a thousand villages haunts me in my sleep. They are lost. And a judgment is coming.

And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son? And what did you hear, my darling young one? I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin', Heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world, Heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin', Heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin', Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin', Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter, Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley, And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

I always take a tape-recorder. I never want to forget the sounds. I have drummed with the drummers in Kenya. I have been out there whispering the gospel to deaf ears. I have put my hands on the sick and the dying and prayed in desperation for God to demonstrate His power to an entire village. I have visited shrines devoted to the artisans of a community, and without understanding a word of the language have seen the anguish in the songs, the poems, the stories. We were chastised for feeding a starving animal in one town because the people had less food than the dogs. That's what I heard. I never went to South Asia. I wasn't there to hear the sound of a wave that could drown the whole world. But as surely as that Tsunami wiped out an entire region, I know there is a hard rain gonna fall in the last days.

Oh, who did you meet, my blue-eyed son? Who did you meet, my darling young one? I met a young child beside a dead pony, I met a white man who walked a black dog, I met a young woman whose body was burning, I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow, I met one man who was wounded in love, I met another man who was wounded with hatred, And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

One after another you meet them. Broken people, like a parade of hurting and heartache. The innocence of a precious little child playing in his village, surrounded by signs warning of AIDS and landmines, eyes yellow from Malaria. I have talked to those with the amulets of the witch doctor tied tightly 'round their arms, and legs, and waists, and necks, and heads, and so on. I have talked to those who have said, "You know my religion says I can kill you if you don't believe the same as me." And the Talibe, the children of the street who are sent out to peddle for change, only to turn it over to some tyrannical slave-driver. Like the little boy who tried to sell me hard-boiled eggs on the streets of Malindi. When I refused to purchase an egg, he put his fingers to his mouth as if to say, "But I am so hungry." I said, "You should eat this egg." My guide says, "No, he cannot eat it. If he eats it, he will be beaten, for that is an egg he could have sold." And as Dylan says, "I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow." One village gave us a basket of mangoes that contained more food than their family ate all week. One merchant, when I didn't buy anything from him, gave me a necklace just so I wouldn't leave his stand empty-handed. But it is a hard rain that's gonna fall.

Oh, what'll you do now, my blue-eyed son? Oh, what'll you do now, my darling young one?

What would you do if you have seen what I have seen?

I'm a-goin' back out 'fore the rain starts a-fallin', I'll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest, Where the people are many and their hands are all empty, Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters, Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison, Where the executioner's face is always well hidden, Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten, Where black is the color, where none is the number,

And when I get there, you know what I'm going to do? I am going to take the soul-saving, life-changing gospel of Jesus Christ ...

And I'll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it, And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it, Then I'll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin', But I'll know my song well before I start singin', And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Click here to hear the song, as sung by Edie Brickell for the film "Born on the Fourth of July".
(Right click to open in a new window)

Thanks Chuck and Erich for reminding me that I am not alone. And Bob, wherever you are spiritually right now in your never-ending journey, I am thankful that you write songs that reflect the heart of a God whom you once claimed to know, and whom I pray you still do. And if there is anyone reading this, I pray that before the rain falls, you will tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it and reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it, and you'll know your song well before you start singing. Because it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.