I wonder what sort of tale we've fallen into?

"Yes, that's so," said Sam. "And we shouldn't be here at all, if we'd known more about it before we started. But I suppose it's often that way. The brave things in the old tales and song, Mr. Frodo: adventures, as I used to call them. I used to think that they were things the wonderful folk of the stories went out and looked for, because they wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of a sport, as you might say. But that's not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in the mind. Folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually—their paths were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn't. And if they had, we shouldn't know, because they'd have been forgotten. We hear about those as just went on—and not all to a good end, mind you; at least not to what folk inside a story and not outside it call a good end. You know, coming home, and finding things all right, though not quite the same—like old Mr. Bilbo. But those aren't always the best tales to hear, though they may be the best tales to get landed in! I wonder what sort of tale we've fallen into?"

—J. R. R. Tolkein, The Two Towers, p. 320

We don't see life as a story with any kind of arc

Christianity is no longer about changing the world. Christianity is no longer about facing the darkness and walking into shadow with souls full of light. We don't see evil as a thing to be conquered, we don't see life as a story with any kind of arc. We don't want our God to be the God of falcons and mole rats and skunk justice.

—N. D. Wilson, Notes from the Tilt-A-Whirl, p. 152

It is the voicings of God

I see craft in the world. I cannot watch dust swirl on the sidewalk without seeing God drag His finger, or listen to spring rain running in the streets without hearing Him roll his Rs. For those who believe in an ex nihilo creation, the world is inevitably art, and it is inevitably art from top to bottom, in every time and in every place. The world cannot exist apart from the voice of God. It is the voicings of God.

—N. D. Wilson, Notes from the Tilt-A-Whirl, p. 98

The best of all possible audiences

Every soul waits in the wings. Every life taken in age, tired and ready, taken in youth, in shock and sorrow, taken in pain or taken in peace, every needle now hidden in shadow waits in eager silence. I see my cousin. My nephew. Many faces, forgotten by those who followed behind, known always by the Author who needs no stone reminders. He is the best of all possible audiences, the only Audience to see every scene, the Author who became a Character and heaped every shadow on Himself.

—N. D. Wilson, Notes from the Tilt-A-Whirl, p. 88

Two Recent Blog Posts about BCS

I work for Bethlehem College and Seminary, and am happy to pour out my life for an institution that seeks to raise up men and women to treasure Christ in every sphere of life. I am also excited to see that others have similar feelings. Here are two recent blog posts:

Thanking God for Bethlehem Seminary
John Piper
Chancellor, Bethlehem College and Seminary
Pastor for Preaching and Vision, Bethlehem Baptist Church

Why Bethlehem College and Seminary is Important to Disability Ministry
John Knight
Senior Director of Development, Desiring God
Volunteer for Bethlehem's Disability Ministry

What is the Gospel?

Answer from John Piper:

News Flash: CO2 is a pollutant

Okay, so I am going to copy Doug Wilson's post in its entirety, mainly because I laughed out loud.

The EPA, under the adroit leadership of Saruman, has now declared CO2 to be a pollutant. As the Staples Singers taught us so many years ago -- "put your hand on your mouth when you cough, that'll help the solution." And after these Hilaritards have regulated all us CO2 emitters into the ground, they will then turn their attentive ministrations to the real environmental challenge of the century, which is that of battling the plague of salt water.

I just want everybody to stare straight at this for about 120 seconds without blinking. The Greens have successfully won their battle to categorize as a pollutant that element which makes plants grow lush and green. Heh. This would be really funny if it weren't so hilarious.

You can read the whole thing here, but then again, you just did.

The Commanches then rushed on Jedediah

Our recent drive to Washington passed through Montana. We talked a lot about what it might have been like to be the first people to walk through that area. Who found the passes through the mountains? What was life like? What did the land look like without fences and farms and McDonalds?

At a rest stop in Montana we read a monument to a man named Jedediah Smith. Wikipedia describes how he died:

According to Dale L. Morgan, Jedediah Smith's biographer, Jedediah was looking for water for the 1831 expedition when he came upon an estimated 15-20 Commanches. There was a brief face to face stand off until the Commanches scared his horse and shot him in the left shoulder. After gasping from the injury, Jedediah wielded his horse around and with one rifle shot was able to kill their chief. The Commanches then rushed on Jedediah, who did not have time to use his pistols, and stabbed him to death with lances. Austin Smith, Jedediah's brother, was able to retreive Jedediah's rifle and pistols that the Indians had taken and traded to the Spanish.

This man, who likely died fighting Commanches in a box canyon somewhere off the Santa Fe Trail, blazed trails through Nevada, Utah, Idaho, Montana, Oregon, and California. He trapped fur and opened up much of the west to those who followed during the Gold Rush. He was only 32 when he died. He likely located passes through the Rockies that 18-wheelers drive today with regularity.

My soul is moved by the courage and bravery and hardiness of men like Smith. Maybe that's why I read everything Louis L'Amour wrote when I was in high school. (Don't fault my love of heroes by the quality of literature, even though I would still read L'Amour at the drop of a hat.)

They are nothing but devil's fools.

“We err in that we judge the work of God according to our own feelings, and regard not His will but our own desire. This is why we are unable to recognize His works, persist in making evil that which is good, and regarding as bitter that which is pleasant. Nothing is so bad, not even death itself, but what it becomes sweet and tolerable if only I know and am certain that it is pleasing to God. Then there follows immediately that of which Solomon speaks, ‘He obtains favor from the Lord.’ (Proverbs 18:22). Now observe that when that clever harlot, our natural reason (which the pagans followed in trying to be most clever), takes a look at married life, she turns up her nose and says, ‘Alas, must I rock the baby, wash its diapers, make its bed, smell its stench, stay up nights with it, take care of it when it cries, heal its rashes and sores, and on top of that care for my wife, provide for her, labor at my trade, take care of this and take care of that, do this and do that, endure this and endure that, and whatever else of bitterness and drudgery married life involves? What, should I make such a prisoner of myself? O you poor, wretched fellow, have you taken a wife? Fie, fie upon such wretchedness and bitterness! It is better to remain free and lead a peaceful, carefree life; I will become a priest or a nun and compel my children to do likewise.’ What then does Christian faith say to this? It opens its eyes, looks upon all these insignificant, distasteful, and despised duties in the Spirit, and is aware that they are all adorned with divine approval as with the costliest gold and jewels. It says, ‘O God, because I am certain that Thou hast created me as a man and hast from my body begotten this child, I also know for a certainty that it meets with Thy perfect pleasure. I confess to Thee that I am not worthy to rock the little babe or wash its diapers or to be entrusted with the care of the child and its mother. How is it that I, without any merit, have come to this distinction of being certain that I am serving Thy creature and Thy most precious will? O how gladly will I do so, though the duties should be even more insignificant and despised! Neither frost nor heat, neither drudgery nor labor, will distress or dissuade me, for I am certain that it is thus pleasing in Thy sight.’ A wife too should regard her duties in the same light, as she suckles the child, rocks and bathes it, and cares for it in other ways; and as she busies herself with other duties and renders help and obedience to her husband. These are truly golden and noble works…Now you tell me, when a father goes ahead and washes diapers or performs some other mean task for his child, and someone ridicules him as an effeminate fool, though that father is acting in the spirit just described and in Christian faith, my dear fellow you tell me, which of the two is most keenly ridiculing the other? God, with all His angels and creatures, is smiling, not because that father is washing diapers, but because he is doing so in Christian faith. Those who sneer at him and see only the task but not the faith are ridiculing God with all His creatures, as the biggest fool on earth. Indeed, they are only ridiculing themselves; with all their cleverness they are nothing but devil’s fools.”

(Martin Luther, “The Estate of Marriage,” in Martin Luther’s Basic Theological Writings, Ed. Timothy F. Lull. 2nd Ed. (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2005), 158-159)

HT: Nowalk

Mess of Me

Switchfoot's new album Hello Hurricane is a lot of fun. It is loud and rowdy and has lots of Jon Foreman screaming. One of their songs, Made a Mess of Me (iTunes link) is an interesting look at total depravity, you know, from a pop/rock lyrical standpoint. The lyrics are below. I know crossing over is important, but it would be great if this song actually supplied the Gospel answer as well as stating the problem. I still really like the song, though.

Mess of Me

I am my own affliction
I am my own disease
There ain´t no drug that they could sell
Ah there ain´t no drugs to make me well

There ain´t no drug
It´s not enough
There ain´t no drug
The sickness is myself

- Chorus -
I made a mess of me I wanna get back the rest of me
I´ve made a mess of me I wanna spend the rest of my life alive
I´ve made a mess of me I wanna reverse this tragedy
I´ve made a mess of me I wanna spend the rest of my live alive
The rest of my life alive!

We lock our souls in cages
We hide inside our shells
It´s hard to free to the ones you love
Oh when you can´t forgive yourself
Yeah forgive yourself!

There ain´t no drug
There ain´t no drug
There ain´t no drug
The sickness is myself

- Chorus -
I made a mess of me I wanna get back the rest of me
I´ve made a mess of me I wanna spend the rest of my life alive
I´ve made a mess of me I wanna reverse this tragedy
I´ve made a mess of me I wanna spend the rest of my live alive
The rest of my life alive!

AHHHHHHOOOOO! Right

There ain´t no drug
There ain´t no drug
There ain´t no drug
No drugs to make me well
There ain´t no drug
It´s not enough
I´m breaking up
The sickness is myself
The sickness is myself

- Chorus -
I made a mess of me I wanna get back the rest of me
I´ve made a mess of me I wanna spend the rest of my life alive
I´ve made a mess of me I wanna reverse this tragedy
I´ve made a mess of me I wanna spend the rest of my live alive
The rest of my life alive!!

What I am made for

I often think that I am schizophrenic when it comes to my career. We moved to Minneapolis believing that I was called to teach and preach the Word of God. Over the last five years that calling has been challenged as I struggled with studies and work and family. I really struggled creating new categories in my brain and learning the tools to study God's word well. I sinned by comparing myself to those who had more knowledge or learned faster or better. I am oh so slow and weak.

At times, I doubted my call. I figured that this was all a mistake. Should I go back to engineering?

This morning, as I am finishing my preparation for teaching Thessalonians tonight God gave me an insight, I think. I am inherently lazy. I was accused in college of "flying by the seat of my pants." I will happily do the least amount possible to accomplish a goal. So, when I am at the bottom of a hill looking up at a mountain of work, I would rather not climb the mountain.

But, this morning, after working for two days to climb the mountain of 1 Thessalonians 5:1-11, I realized that the view from the top of the mountain is glorious. And I don't simply mean glorious, I mean really glorious. Mind-blowingly beautiful. Heart-wrenching, tear-producing, glorious truth. Truth and beauty and glory that must be shared, that must be proclaimed.

At this moment, sitting atop the mountain, I realize, I think, that this is what I am made for. Not simply to stand at the top of the mountain, but to share the view. To help other people see what I see. To proclaim, to plead, to describe, to exalt over, to exult in, and to display the view to the best of my ability.

My problem is the mountain. Tomorrow, after I have shared the view with the few people who will listen, I will come down the mountain. I will be tired and worn out and think, man, that was hard work. I will not want to do the hard work again. I will dread next week when I have to climb again.

Oh, how easily I forget the glorious view at the top. So, on one hand I believe that I am made to proclaim the view. But on the other hand, I do not delight in the hard work necessary to get to the top.

Therefore, I waffle around in the valley, wondering what my career should be and what I was called to Minneapolis for.