I was blessed to have had the opportunity to go to Israel in 2000. As often happens when I travel, I thought it would be nice to live there. Of course, six months after my visit a lot of shooting and bombing erupted in Jerusalem and all over Israel and the Palestinian territories, and my assessment might have been different had I visited the Holy Land in the fall of 2000 rather than the spring. If I had been in Israel that fall I probably wouldn't even have been able to say, "It's a nice place to visit.""
Actually, people make that assessment, "It's a nice place to visit," after visiting some of the most beautiful and exotic vacation destinations. But even then they often go on to conclude, "but I wouldn't want to live there." There is just something powerful about "home" that draws us back. Even Dorothy Gale, dazzled by the beauty and wonders of Oz, had to conclude, "There's no place like home," and back she went to black and white Kansas from technicolor Oz. There is no place like home. But is Kansas home? Or North Carolina? Or New Jersey? Well, I've lived in New Jersey and North Carolina, and a bunch of other places too. And I've come to the conclusion that, contrary to the old adage, there was a place I "visited" that I'd rather live.
You see, that trip to Israel was, not to oversell it, transformational. Though I didn't speak the languages, except with those who accommodated me and spoke in English, though my faith put me in a decided minority in the land, though the landscape showed then the many scars of the millennia-old war that has raged there, to say nothing of what has happened in the eight years since I visited, I nevertheless felt strangely at home there.
You know, the truth is, wherever you are, no matter how long you've been there, you are not home. The Bible makes it quite clear, we are all travelers through this place. (1 Peter 2.11; see Hebrews 11 for fuller understanding) Our true home is with God. And, to borrow a line from an old, old song, if you are asking, "Show me the way to go home," I can help you. The wisdom and philosophies of the post-modern world notwithstanding, there is just One Way home--Jesus. He plainly said as much when he told Thomas and the other apostles, "I am the way...no one comes to the Father, but through me." (John 14.6)
Back to Israel, or rather, back to my visit there. I spent several days of my trip in Jerusalem. It was an awesome place to visit, and I did and do, want to live there because God has declared that it is His place of eternal dwelling. No, not the city divided into Armenian, Christian, Jewish, and Muslim quarters, surrounded by beautiful, but bullet-pocked, walls. That city is sort of a shadow, a very imperfect likeness of another Jerusalem, a new Jerusalem, whose foundation was laid by God, a Jerusalem that will come "down from heaven form God." (Hebrews 11.10 ; Revelation 21.2) Long ago God himself declared that Jerusalem would be His permanent address, His home, "For the LORD has chosen Zion, he has desired it for his dwelling: 'This is my resting place for ever and ever; here I will sit enthroned, for I have desired it--'" (Psalm 132.13-14) If the "new Jerusalem" is going to be where God is going to hang His hat forever, then that's where I want to be. What made Israel and Jerusalem such a great place to visit was not its past, which most people go to see, but its future, which we can only imagine. And I am thrilled knowing that one day it will be my dwelling place. In fact, Jesus, who is the One Way, to get there, has even gone to the trouble to prepare a place just for me. (John 14.2-3). A nice place to visit? You bet, and I long to be there again. You just let me know if you'd like to go there too. I promise, if you visit, you'll want to live there!
Monday, August 31, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
A Job-like Endurance
I just happened to be reading Job 24 today. The chapter stands out from much of Job's lamentations over his epic sufferings in that he observes that, out of sync with his worldview, evildoers appeared to prosper. In so many words, Job admitted that, though his theology embraced the concept of a sovereign God who ensured justice for all, a lot of bad guys seemed not only to get away with their bad deeds, they got to enjoy what we might call the "lifestyles of the rich and (in)famous" courtesy of their wicked exploitation of folks who were essentially powerless and marginalized. Well, while some do go to jail, or suffer sudden and violent ends, there are still plenty of people who live lavishly at the expense of others' suffering and exploitation, not infrequently the exploitation of their own employees. And who but the most naive of us believe that few, if any, of our political leaders are squeaky clean.
The news headlines this morning tell of the passing of a political leader who was near the top of the heap of American government and power for nearly half a century, but who could hardly have claimed to being "squeaky clean." Senator Ted Kennedy certainly had a few stains on his record. Perhaps one or more of them prevented him from ever being able to report his address as "1600 Pennsylvania Avenue." But, he certainly was politically resilient. And there's no denying he was the darling of a generation or two of liberals who will undoubtedly sing his praises even as they mourn his death.
With the passing of Senator Kennedy I suspect the famous family, which was never far from the spotlight of American politics, and often said to represent an "American dynasty," will now fade rather swiftly to relative obscurity. Certainly, no few school children will wonder what all the fuss is, the Kennedy name meaning little, if anything, to them today, and less tomorrow. The several generations of Kennedys who have strode across the political and social landscape of the nation since the 1940s have endured Job-like tragedies and loss, and, little as I admire their politics, I commend their grace and strength and endurance through the years and the pain, and pray God's peace for them at this time.
The news headlines this morning tell of the passing of a political leader who was near the top of the heap of American government and power for nearly half a century, but who could hardly have claimed to being "squeaky clean." Senator Ted Kennedy certainly had a few stains on his record. Perhaps one or more of them prevented him from ever being able to report his address as "1600 Pennsylvania Avenue." But, he certainly was politically resilient. And there's no denying he was the darling of a generation or two of liberals who will undoubtedly sing his praises even as they mourn his death.
With the passing of Senator Kennedy I suspect the famous family, which was never far from the spotlight of American politics, and often said to represent an "American dynasty," will now fade rather swiftly to relative obscurity. Certainly, no few school children will wonder what all the fuss is, the Kennedy name meaning little, if anything, to them today, and less tomorrow. The several generations of Kennedys who have strode across the political and social landscape of the nation since the 1940s have endured Job-like tragedies and loss, and, little as I admire their politics, I commend their grace and strength and endurance through the years and the pain, and pray God's peace for them at this time.
Monday, August 24, 2009
I Would Have Been An Un-Easy Rider
I have a friend who is in love with the romance of biking. Not peddle power, we're talking Harley's here. Like most 50-60 something guys I admit to imagining myself taking to the road with Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper in Easy Rider, at least up until that last scene, there's nothing particularly romantic or noble about being blown away by rednecks in a pickup. But my idle dreams of rolling down the highway on a crotch rocket with my then longish hair and beard waving proudly in the wind lasted about five minutes.
You see, my real love back then, and now, was my wife. She saw that wistful look in my eyes as I grooved to the soundtrack of Easy Rider, and she wasn't about to let this knucklehead get her onto a bike. Let me tell you, when you were married to a 22 year-old orthopedic nurse who regularly saw bikers brought in to the hospital in a basket, you listened when she said, "You are never going to ride a motorcycle!" And so, today, my bikes continue to be powered by nothing more than my size 101/2s. I am sure that if I had pursued that dream of the open road I would have been an uneasy rider at best. It wasn't just the fate of Fonda and Hopper that worried me. I had seen Lawrence of Arabia as well.
I have wondered if, had I gotten a motorcycle, if I would have been in the "You're violating my constitutional rights making me wear a helmet" Party? Actually, I guess I know the answer. I wear a helmet when I'm peddling. I put on my life-jacket while the boat's still tied to the dock. My seat belt is clicked before I leave the driveway. I teach Boy Scouts how to safely use knives and axes--"Careful how you swing that, Johnny, you might miss those toes later!"
But my buddy Bob Kopp, who actually has a motorcycle, even as he lusts for a bigger and faster one, while nobody's fool, clearly loves the wind in his hair, or did when he still had hair. (Sorry Bob) And I suspect that Bob would not turn down an opportunity to argue before the Supreme Court and defend a biker's right not to wear a helmet. Me? I'm not sure where I come down between absolute personal freedoms and the state's right to protect folks from risky behaviors. But, since jumping out of airplanes for fun isn't illegal, I'm not sure I get the whole biker helmet movement. People seem to be given a green light to get their thrills by all manner of risky pursuits. Hey, I still ride roller-coasters! And if bungee jumpers can leap off of bridges, and skydivers out of planes, and rock-jocks can scale sheer cliffs, and wildlife fanatics can play tag with snakes and alligators, well, I don't see what's so wrong about a biker being allowed to expose his or her noggin to a close encounter with the pavement.
At the same time, those of us who preach the Gospel try and convince sinners to surrender their freedom to indulge their illicit lusts and appetites, their passions for idols, their covetous impulses, and exchange them for the joy and privilege of becoming Christ's bond servant. But we Gospel preachers don't force someone to accept Jesus as Savior. We don't coerce people into saying, "Jesus is Lord!" At least we're not supposed to. I think perhaps the government might follow the example of how it dealt with the question of smoking years ago. Maybe something like this would be sufficient, on every motorcycle operator's license there is this caveat, "Warning: The Surgeon General has found that riding a motorcycle without a helmet can be hazardous to your health." The sad news about motorcycles is that some bikers, whether they wear a helmet or not, have accidents and suffer permanent brain injuries and death.
The Good News about Jesus is, whether we are Easy or Uneasy "Riders" (disciples), all who believe in Him, even though they die, shall live. And everyone who lives and believes in Jesus will never die. (John 11.25-26)
You see, my real love back then, and now, was my wife. She saw that wistful look in my eyes as I grooved to the soundtrack of Easy Rider, and she wasn't about to let this knucklehead get her onto a bike. Let me tell you, when you were married to a 22 year-old orthopedic nurse who regularly saw bikers brought in to the hospital in a basket, you listened when she said, "You are never going to ride a motorcycle!" And so, today, my bikes continue to be powered by nothing more than my size 101/2s. I am sure that if I had pursued that dream of the open road I would have been an uneasy rider at best. It wasn't just the fate of Fonda and Hopper that worried me. I had seen Lawrence of Arabia as well.
I have wondered if, had I gotten a motorcycle, if I would have been in the "You're violating my constitutional rights making me wear a helmet" Party? Actually, I guess I know the answer. I wear a helmet when I'm peddling. I put on my life-jacket while the boat's still tied to the dock. My seat belt is clicked before I leave the driveway. I teach Boy Scouts how to safely use knives and axes--"Careful how you swing that, Johnny, you might miss those toes later!"
But my buddy Bob Kopp, who actually has a motorcycle, even as he lusts for a bigger and faster one, while nobody's fool, clearly loves the wind in his hair, or did when he still had hair. (Sorry Bob) And I suspect that Bob would not turn down an opportunity to argue before the Supreme Court and defend a biker's right not to wear a helmet. Me? I'm not sure where I come down between absolute personal freedoms and the state's right to protect folks from risky behaviors. But, since jumping out of airplanes for fun isn't illegal, I'm not sure I get the whole biker helmet movement. People seem to be given a green light to get their thrills by all manner of risky pursuits. Hey, I still ride roller-coasters! And if bungee jumpers can leap off of bridges, and skydivers out of planes, and rock-jocks can scale sheer cliffs, and wildlife fanatics can play tag with snakes and alligators, well, I don't see what's so wrong about a biker being allowed to expose his or her noggin to a close encounter with the pavement.
At the same time, those of us who preach the Gospel try and convince sinners to surrender their freedom to indulge their illicit lusts and appetites, their passions for idols, their covetous impulses, and exchange them for the joy and privilege of becoming Christ's bond servant. But we Gospel preachers don't force someone to accept Jesus as Savior. We don't coerce people into saying, "Jesus is Lord!" At least we're not supposed to. I think perhaps the government might follow the example of how it dealt with the question of smoking years ago. Maybe something like this would be sufficient, on every motorcycle operator's license there is this caveat, "Warning: The Surgeon General has found that riding a motorcycle without a helmet can be hazardous to your health." The sad news about motorcycles is that some bikers, whether they wear a helmet or not, have accidents and suffer permanent brain injuries and death.
The Good News about Jesus is, whether we are Easy or Uneasy "Riders" (disciples), all who believe in Him, even though they die, shall live. And everyone who lives and believes in Jesus will never die. (John 11.25-26)
Friday, August 21, 2009
Why I Hate THE FALL
I hate THE FALL. No, it's not Autumn that I have issues with, the season just might be my favorite. I am talking about "The Fall," as, "In Adam's Fall we sinned all." All creation's estrangement from God as a result of the monumentally bad choice of our ancestors, Adam and Eve. As beautiful as this world often is, and as lovely as many of the people and creatures in it often are, the barbarity, letting, cruelty, senseless suffering, and that cause "all creation to groan" as it collectively longs to be freed from its current (See Romans 8.18-25), drives me to tears.
I do hate THE FALL, but I love hummingbirds! Such beautiful and delightful little blurs of color, and aerial acrobatics almost beyond belief. We now have five hummingbird feeders about our yard, and I am fairly certain that by next spring we'll have more. Our feeders attract more hummers than I can count, they just don't stay still long enough. And, no matter how bad a day, or week, or month, we might be having, the hummers never fail to lift our spirits when my wife and I sit out on our front porch and just watch, and listen, to them.
Actually, there was one time, earlier this week, when going out on the porch to check on the hummingbirds upset me to the point of nausea, rather than cheered me. Before I tell you what so disturbed me I need to pause for a Bible lesson. I do so even though teaching this lesson has gotten me in trouble before.
What I have gotten in hot water over is one of the repercussions of THE FALL. You see, there was a time when this whole earth was Vegan. God had filled the earth with all kinds of creatures of the seas, the skies, and the fields, and He had created Man and appointed him steward of this world. And for Man and all creatures God had supplied a veritable "Garden of Delights" filled with all kinds of good things to eat--from the trees and plants.
"Behold, I have given you every plant yielding seed that is on
the face of the earth, and every tree with seed in its fruit. You
shall have them as food. And to every beast of the earth, and to
every bird of the heavens, and to everything that creeps on the
earth, everything that has the breath of life, I have given every
green plant for food." [Genesis 1.29-30]
God had made a vegetarian creation. Fruits, nectar, nuts, and vegetables made up the diet of every living thing. No creature had any reason to fear any other creature, because no drop of needed ever be spilled according to God's plan for the world. Then, THE FALL. And, perhaps worst of all, Adam and Eve's choice to eat the one fruit that God had them to eat, forced God himself to be the first shedder, as He was compelled to slay a couple of His creatures in order to fashion garments of animal skins to cover the foolish man and woman. And the letting has only increased ever since.
Now, how I got in trouble with this lesson, and may again sharing it here, was when I told my students that Heaven is vegetarian. In a place where there will be no more death there won't be any hamburgers or chicken fingers, sorry. You see, Heaven, and the redeemed and renewed earth are where, "the wolf and the lamb will feed together, and the lion will eat straw like the ox, and dust will be the serpent's food. They will neither harm nor destroy..." (Isaiah 65.25) You might not see where the offense lies in this teaching, but where I now live there are some folks who like to hunt and fish, and who eat their meat with real savor, and the thought of a meatless heaven is disturbing to them. Me, I am looking forward to it. Even though I confess to being too weak to change my own diet, which, to my shame, continues to include meat, poultry, and fish.
What has all this to do with my getting so disturbed when I went out on the porch the other day? Well, as I walked over to the feeder I saw what looked at first like some kind of vine with a flower hanging from the feeder. This particular feeder was on a dual hook with a vining plant, so I first thought that the vine had somehow grasped the feeder. Then, as I got close enough for my eyes to clearly focus, I saw, to my revulsion, that the "vine" was a praying mantis, and the "flower" was a hummingbird it had killed and was in the process of eating. Well, I went kind of ballistic. I ran and got a stick, and cursing that mantis, I walloped it and whacked it, even though I knew it was only doing what it needed to to survive.
Up until the other day I had been taught, and always believed, that a praying mantis was a beneficial insect that helped control garden pests. Never had I imagined that they were really "preying" mantis's that would viciously attack one of God's most beautiful and little creatures. And I tried to anthropomorphize God, and convince myself that He would approve of my act of vengeance against the mantis. Surely God loves hummingbirds as much as I do, and would be similarly upset if He knew that they were the target of bloodthirsty mantis attacks!
And then I thought about THE FALL, and that in the prelapsarian world the diet of the praying mantis did not include hummingbirds, and wolves didn't eat lambs, and lions were grazers like oxen. And Man, well he didn't have any desire to hunt or fish. Or to order the six ounce Outback Sirloin Special. Even more, Man, back in that ever so fleeting Vegan world of peace, would never have raised his hand against one of God's creatures, much less his own brother. And I hated THE FALL. And I didn't think too much of myself, being an all too fallen creature, with more blood on my hands than I care to tell you about.
But even Jesus, during the time He spent here on this world as one of us, even Jesus ate flesh. For during His earthly sojourn the Son of God was a son of man as well, not fallen, certainly, but living among us, like one of us in every way but without sin. And, in the glorious will of God, it was Jesus who offered himself as the final blood sacrifice to Man's rebellion against God and His order for His creation. The last "flesh" to be consumed was to be Christ's body on the Cross, given for us all, and for hummingbirds, and even "preying" mantis's, so that all of creation should be redeemed and renewed.
I hate THE FALL because, among other things, hummingbirds have to die. But, more than I hate THE FALL, I love God because He was willing to sacrifice His own Son so that one day no more hummingbirds will die in my garden. No more children will starve to death in Darfur. No more women will die of breast cancer. No more men will die from heart attacks. There will be new heavens and a new earth. All the sorrows of what has gone before will be no longer remembered. We shall all be glad and rejoice forever in God's new creation.
I do hate THE FALL, but I love hummingbirds! Such beautiful and delightful little blurs of color, and aerial acrobatics almost beyond belief. We now have five hummingbird feeders about our yard, and I am fairly certain that by next spring we'll have more. Our feeders attract more hummers than I can count, they just don't stay still long enough. And, no matter how bad a day, or week, or month, we might be having, the hummers never fail to lift our spirits when my wife and I sit out on our front porch and just watch, and listen, to them.
Actually, there was one time, earlier this week, when going out on the porch to check on the hummingbirds upset me to the point of nausea, rather than cheered me. Before I tell you what so disturbed me I need to pause for a Bible lesson. I do so even though teaching this lesson has gotten me in trouble before.
What I have gotten in hot water over is one of the repercussions of THE FALL. You see, there was a time when this whole earth was Vegan. God had filled the earth with all kinds of creatures of the seas, the skies, and the fields, and He had created Man and appointed him steward of this world. And for Man and all creatures God had supplied a veritable "Garden of Delights" filled with all kinds of good things to eat--from the trees and plants.
"Behold, I have given you every plant yielding seed that is on
the face of the earth, and every tree with seed in its fruit. You
shall have them as food. And to every beast of the earth, and to
every bird of the heavens, and to everything that creeps on the
earth, everything that has the breath of life, I have given every
green plant for food." [Genesis 1.29-30]
God had made a vegetarian creation. Fruits, nectar, nuts, and vegetables made up the diet of every living thing. No creature had any reason to fear any other creature, because no drop of needed ever be spilled according to God's plan for the world. Then, THE FALL. And, perhaps worst of all, Adam and Eve's choice to eat the one fruit that God had them to eat, forced God himself to be the first shedder, as He was compelled to slay a couple of His creatures in order to fashion garments of animal skins to cover the foolish man and woman. And the letting has only increased ever since.
Now, how I got in trouble with this lesson, and may again sharing it here, was when I told my students that Heaven is vegetarian. In a place where there will be no more death there won't be any hamburgers or chicken fingers, sorry. You see, Heaven, and the redeemed and renewed earth are where, "the wolf and the lamb will feed together, and the lion will eat straw like the ox, and dust will be the serpent's food. They will neither harm nor destroy..." (Isaiah 65.25) You might not see where the offense lies in this teaching, but where I now live there are some folks who like to hunt and fish, and who eat their meat with real savor, and the thought of a meatless heaven is disturbing to them. Me, I am looking forward to it. Even though I confess to being too weak to change my own diet, which, to my shame, continues to include meat, poultry, and fish.
What has all this to do with my getting so disturbed when I went out on the porch the other day? Well, as I walked over to the feeder I saw what looked at first like some kind of vine with a flower hanging from the feeder. This particular feeder was on a dual hook with a vining plant, so I first thought that the vine had somehow grasped the feeder. Then, as I got close enough for my eyes to clearly focus, I saw, to my revulsion, that the "vine" was a praying mantis, and the "flower" was a hummingbird it had killed and was in the process of eating. Well, I went kind of ballistic. I ran and got a stick, and cursing that mantis, I walloped it and whacked it, even though I knew it was only doing what it needed to to survive.
Up until the other day I had been taught, and always believed, that a praying mantis was a beneficial insect that helped control garden pests. Never had I imagined that they were really "preying" mantis's that would viciously attack one of God's most beautiful and little creatures. And I tried to anthropomorphize God, and convince myself that He would approve of my act of vengeance against the mantis. Surely God loves hummingbirds as much as I do, and would be similarly upset if He knew that they were the target of bloodthirsty mantis attacks!
And then I thought about THE FALL, and that in the prelapsarian world the diet of the praying mantis did not include hummingbirds, and wolves didn't eat lambs, and lions were grazers like oxen. And Man, well he didn't have any desire to hunt or fish. Or to order the six ounce Outback Sirloin Special. Even more, Man, back in that ever so fleeting Vegan world of peace, would never have raised his hand against one of God's creatures, much less his own brother. And I hated THE FALL. And I didn't think too much of myself, being an all too fallen creature, with more blood on my hands than I care to tell you about.
But even Jesus, during the time He spent here on this world as one of us, even Jesus ate flesh. For during His earthly sojourn the Son of God was a son of man as well, not fallen, certainly, but living among us, like one of us in every way but without sin. And, in the glorious will of God, it was Jesus who offered himself as the final blood sacrifice to Man's rebellion against God and His order for His creation. The last "flesh" to be consumed was to be Christ's body on the Cross, given for us all, and for hummingbirds, and even "preying" mantis's, so that all of creation should be redeemed and renewed.
I hate THE FALL because, among other things, hummingbirds have to die. But, more than I hate THE FALL, I love God because He was willing to sacrifice His own Son so that one day no more hummingbirds will die in my garden. No more children will starve to death in Darfur. No more women will die of breast cancer. No more men will die from heart attacks. There will be new heavens and a new earth. All the sorrows of what has gone before will be no longer remembered. We shall all be glad and rejoice forever in God's new creation.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Why Is There Music?
Twenty-five months ago, as I lay on a table in an operating room preparing to have one of my vital organs removed, there was nothing wrong with it, my son just needed it more than I did, the anesthesiologist asked me if I had any questions. I was already a bit foggy, as they had begun my sedation while I had still been upstairs in my room. But I was with it enough to respond with a question, and I am sure it was one the doctor never anticipated.
When asked if I had any questions I replied, "Actually, yes, I do. Why is there music?" After a few moments of silence while the doctor tried to figure out if I was serious, or if it was the sedative at work, she responded haltingly, "Well, uh, we play music in the OR to relieve some of the tension, it helps us all to relax." But that wasn't what I had meant, "No, doctor, I mean why is there music? Why does music exist?" Growing more apprehensive about her crazy patient, the doctor valiantly tried to keep me calm by offering her best guess, "I suppose music exists because people feel like making it." It wasn't the time for a lengthy discussion, so I quickly shared my belief about why there is music, "Music exists because God created it for His pleasure, and ours, and to glorify Himself." Silence for a few awkward moments. Then the anesthesiologist said, "Oh. Hmmm. Well, that's interesting." And she quickly opened up the IV and sent me off to dreamland as fast as she could.
I love music. And I have considerable muscial talent. Oh, I can't play any instrument, and my voice, well its made for the printed word, not for song. But I am a great listener of music. 45s, LPs, tapes, CDs, I have them all. Country, classical, jazz, rock, sacred, just no disco or hip-hop. Can't carry a tune in a bucket, but I can with my Walkman. And I'm so thankful that God gave us music. And I'm thankful that God gave us musicians. It was the sounds of the music that God created in nature that inspired our ancestors to hum, whistle, snap there fingers, bang on a log, blow on a reed.
Around our house we are surrounded by music. We are fortunate to have trees full of birds who joyfully serenade us each day. And we are blessed to have a daughter who is one of those musicians God created. Although she is away at college studying and performing music most of the time, semester breaks and summers offer the opportunity to hear Jamie's lively flute at any hour of the day. And Jamie is one of the reasons I know God craeted music, because I know she didn't inherit any musical gifts from me, she arrived, nearly 23 years ago, with the musical gifts already hard-wired in by her Creator.
Well, one of these days I'll figure out how to add some links to this blog so you can visit the website that Jamie and her musical partner, Jojo (an awesome classical guitarist from Brasil) have. And maybe I'll find out how to insert a link to a music file to make this blog more pleasurable for us all. And to glorify God.
When asked if I had any questions I replied, "Actually, yes, I do. Why is there music?" After a few moments of silence while the doctor tried to figure out if I was serious, or if it was the sedative at work, she responded haltingly, "Well, uh, we play music in the OR to relieve some of the tension, it helps us all to relax." But that wasn't what I had meant, "No, doctor, I mean why is there music? Why does music exist?" Growing more apprehensive about her crazy patient, the doctor valiantly tried to keep me calm by offering her best guess, "I suppose music exists because people feel like making it." It wasn't the time for a lengthy discussion, so I quickly shared my belief about why there is music, "Music exists because God created it for His pleasure, and ours, and to glorify Himself." Silence for a few awkward moments. Then the anesthesiologist said, "Oh. Hmmm. Well, that's interesting." And she quickly opened up the IV and sent me off to dreamland as fast as she could.
I love music. And I have considerable muscial talent. Oh, I can't play any instrument, and my voice, well its made for the printed word, not for song. But I am a great listener of music. 45s, LPs, tapes, CDs, I have them all. Country, classical, jazz, rock, sacred, just no disco or hip-hop. Can't carry a tune in a bucket, but I can with my Walkman. And I'm so thankful that God gave us music. And I'm thankful that God gave us musicians. It was the sounds of the music that God created in nature that inspired our ancestors to hum, whistle, snap there fingers, bang on a log, blow on a reed.
Around our house we are surrounded by music. We are fortunate to have trees full of birds who joyfully serenade us each day. And we are blessed to have a daughter who is one of those musicians God created. Although she is away at college studying and performing music most of the time, semester breaks and summers offer the opportunity to hear Jamie's lively flute at any hour of the day. And Jamie is one of the reasons I know God craeted music, because I know she didn't inherit any musical gifts from me, she arrived, nearly 23 years ago, with the musical gifts already hard-wired in by her Creator.
Well, one of these days I'll figure out how to add some links to this blog so you can visit the website that Jamie and her musical partner, Jojo (an awesome classical guitarist from Brasil) have. And maybe I'll find out how to insert a link to a music file to make this blog more pleasurable for us all. And to glorify God.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
"Objection, your honor!"
First of all, let me introduce myself to all those who don't know who "Psalmfox" is. My name is Jim Wilken. I am a pastor, although I haven't served a congregation for nearly two years. I am a Christian Educator, although I no longer serve at a Christian school. I am a Boy Scout, although I am no longer a boy. Actually, watching "A Clear and Present Danger" with Harrison Ford the other day, Jack Ryan (Ford's character, and Clancy's creation) was derogatorily referred to as a "Boy Scout" by one of the bad guys, meaning Ryan lived by honor and a high set of ideals which he would not compromise for any reason. And so, with me, it is not a love of tramping about in the woods that makes me a Scout, though I do the Boy Scouts' camping thing, as much as it is my love for Scouting's ideals, things like duty to God and country, service to others, obeying the Scout Law (You know, "A Scout is... trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent.").
And speaking of reverence, as I shared with my camp staff colleagues and the Scouts I worked with for six weeks at Camp Bud Schiele this summer, my seeking to live up to Scouting's ideals is not foremost to be a "good Scout," but rather, as in all things, to glorify God with my life. This is not to say that I haven't failed to glorify God many times. The truth is, the mess and muck of my life has far more often dishonored Him. But, because He is loving and merciful, and has extended unimaginable grace to me through His Son, Jesus Christ the Lord, I'm still here, and get another shot at glorifying Him today.
Enough with the rambling introduction, check out my profile on this blog and find out more about me if you must. Let's get on to my objection.
I have a confession to make. Confession is always good up front. Less loss of face than a belated confession, don't you think? My confession is this, somewhere in my dresser I have a $3.00 "WWJD" ring. Although it's lost, I used to have a green plastic "WWJD" bracelet. I used to think it was pretty cool to ask that question, "What would Jesus do?" But lately, I have had growing objection to the whole WWJD approach. and so, like Perry Mason, the first TV lawyer I ever knew, or like Harmon Rabb, my favorite JAG attorney, I would jump to my feet and cry "Objection, your honor! Calls for speculation," if opposing counsel asked a witness, "What would Jesus do?"
Well intentioned as I am sure the WWJD thing is, i have had a growing concern that it encourages what I would call speculative theology. Speculative theology is man centered, or, if you prefer non-gender suggestive language, human centered, theology. Speculative theology is built upon what we imagine or think about God from our experience, rather than what we know about God through His self-revelation. Speculative theology leaves the door wide open for us to come up with pretty much any answer we can justify to ourselves when responding to the question, "What would Jesus do?" Thus, we could speculate, for example that Jesus would not condemn abortion, or bless same-sex unions. We might justify euthanasia by suggesting that the Jesus we know would extend mercy to someone suffering by killing them, or helping them to kill themselves, the total lack of any actual biblical evidence that He would ever do such a thing notwithstanding.
So, here's the thing--wouldn't we do better to ask "What did Jesus do?' Might we not find more solid answers for life's tough questions, and our moral dilemmas, in the scriptural record of Jesus' life? Anyway, I think so. that's why, even though I cannot imagine what might eventually appear on this blog, more often than not I may reflect upon some news of the day by challenging myself, and you, to react and respond, not at Jesus might, but as He did.
And speaking of reverence, as I shared with my camp staff colleagues and the Scouts I worked with for six weeks at Camp Bud Schiele this summer, my seeking to live up to Scouting's ideals is not foremost to be a "good Scout," but rather, as in all things, to glorify God with my life. This is not to say that I haven't failed to glorify God many times. The truth is, the mess and muck of my life has far more often dishonored Him. But, because He is loving and merciful, and has extended unimaginable grace to me through His Son, Jesus Christ the Lord, I'm still here, and get another shot at glorifying Him today.
Enough with the rambling introduction, check out my profile on this blog and find out more about me if you must. Let's get on to my objection.
I have a confession to make. Confession is always good up front. Less loss of face than a belated confession, don't you think? My confession is this, somewhere in my dresser I have a $3.00 "WWJD" ring. Although it's lost, I used to have a green plastic "WWJD" bracelet. I used to think it was pretty cool to ask that question, "What would Jesus do?" But lately, I have had growing objection to the whole WWJD approach. and so, like Perry Mason, the first TV lawyer I ever knew, or like Harmon Rabb, my favorite JAG attorney, I would jump to my feet and cry "Objection, your honor! Calls for speculation," if opposing counsel asked a witness, "What would Jesus do?"
Well intentioned as I am sure the WWJD thing is, i have had a growing concern that it encourages what I would call speculative theology. Speculative theology is man centered, or, if you prefer non-gender suggestive language, human centered, theology. Speculative theology is built upon what we imagine or think about God from our experience, rather than what we know about God through His self-revelation. Speculative theology leaves the door wide open for us to come up with pretty much any answer we can justify to ourselves when responding to the question, "What would Jesus do?" Thus, we could speculate, for example that Jesus would not condemn abortion, or bless same-sex unions. We might justify euthanasia by suggesting that the Jesus we know would extend mercy to someone suffering by killing them, or helping them to kill themselves, the total lack of any actual biblical evidence that He would ever do such a thing notwithstanding.
So, here's the thing--wouldn't we do better to ask "What did Jesus do?' Might we not find more solid answers for life's tough questions, and our moral dilemmas, in the scriptural record of Jesus' life? Anyway, I think so. that's why, even though I cannot imagine what might eventually appear on this blog, more often than not I may reflect upon some news of the day by challenging myself, and you, to react and respond, not at Jesus might, but as He did.
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