Uncommon Loyalty

“Fine,” Henry said. “Once my family is free and Flax gets them out, the rest of you can fight where you will or go home.” He pointed at Fat Frank. “Make sure they find my family.”

“No lad,” Frank said, shaking his head. “That’s for Jacques and his chestnut mob. I stay with you. We find the witch and pluck her beard.”

“Frank,” Henry said. “I don’t even—”

“Hush yourself,” Frank said. “Listen to those lions roaring in your blood. Even I can hear them. I know this wager. I know the odds, and I know the stakes.” He pointed up. “By the time this bleeding sun has bubbled in the sea, the game will be played and the tale told. Where your feet stand when the sun has set, there will be mine. If your blood pools, it won’t be pooling alone, and if there’s nought left but a pile of ash, it will be ash of Henry Maccabee and Fat Frank Once-a-Faerie.” He thumped his green mace against Henry’s breastplate. “We’ve stood the storm before, son of Mordecai. Now draw that faerie sword and let’s to war. Your father labors.”

—N. D. Wilson, The Chestnut King, pp. 437–438

The Chestnut King

I just finished N. D. Wilson’s latest book, The Chestnut King. Wow. It was fantastic. The Chestnut King was the third and final installment in the 100 Cupboards series of children’s books; however, they are not your mother’s children’s books. There is magic, suspense, swords, good, evil, love, and baseball—all of which you would expect. But the evil is really evil, and the blood is spilt blood, and the hero—a twelve year old boy—does some of the spilling. Don’t let that stop you from reading. Instead, remember what C. S. Lewis said about that.

One of the things—in my world anyway—which signals that a story, whether book or movie, was good is how long it sticks with me after it is over. If I am still thinking about it two days after it is over, then it was good. I think this is going to be that kind of book. I had an emotional bond with Henry York Maccabee and his family. I feel a loss having finished the book. I want to know more. I don’t want it to be over.

Now, there are only a handful of people who read this blog, mostly because I put it in your RSS feed. So, you know what I mean when I say that you are all working too much and should take a little time out to read a good book, or three. If reading a children’s book sounds beneath you, then you also need to remember what C.S. Lewis said about that. Go out and read this series. Now.

To Experience That Meaning More Fully

“A story is a way to say something that can’t be said any other way, and it takes every word in the story to say what the meaning is. You tell a story because a statement would be inadequate. When anybody asks what a story is about, the only proper thing is to tell him to read the story. The meaning of fiction is not abstract meaning but experience meaning, the purpose of making statements about the meaning of a story is only to help you to experience that meaning more fully.”

(Flannery O’Connor, Mystery and Manners, p. 96)

HT: Nick Nowalk

An Alternative to the Flickering God

ND Wilson has become my kids’ favorite author. His latest book, The Chestnut King, moved into the top three books ever for Kenz and the top one for Kayleigh.

I began working my way through the first two in the trilogy—again—before I started this one in order to get my head on straight regarding Henry York and his fantastical story. Kenz begged me today to skip it and just read the third one. “You'll remember, Dad, just read it. I can't wait to talk about it.”

Twelve pages in and I am lost again in a fabulous world. My palms are damp and my hands are cold, which is what happens when I am gripped by this kind of story. Immediate familiarity. Immediate danger, suspense, and a constant desire to read the next line. Good and evil. And most importantly, heroes. I absolutely love stories like this.

ND Wilson posted on Credenda/Agenda about writing for kids, truth, and adultish readers, of whom I am definitely one. (You might remember what C.S. Lewis wrote here and here.) Here are some quotes from Wilson's article. It is worth reading if you enjoy stories like I do.

This first paragraph explains why Nathan writes kids’ books:

I write kids’ books because I can tell the Truth, and the Truth is that The Real is throbbingly fantastic. Ask the nearest grasshopper or rodent or turtle. Ask the nearest star (but show some respect and don’t look directly at her—she’s powerful enough to peal your nose and blind your eyes). I want to paint a picture of this world that is accurate (if impressionistic), and I don’t want a single young reader to grow up and look back on me as the peddler of sweet youthful falsehoods. I want them to get a world vision that can grow and mature and age with them until, like all exoskeletons, it must be cast aside—not as false, but as a shallow introduction to things even deeper and stranger and more wonderful (and involving more dragonflies).

This second paragraph is (partly) why I read them:

A final point, disjointed but related. Many readers of children’s books are, in fact, adults. The line at any bookstore signing can tell me this. I don’t think it’s difficult to understand. Sure, some of the adult readers focus on children’s books for the same reasons that others focus on romance—they’ve developed a particular itch and they scratch it. But others are wandering the store (pickily) looking for flavors they remember from when they were kids, looking for their young eyes again, hoping to once more see the world how they used to. They’re looking for Mom’s apple pie and Grandma’s quilt. They’re looking for a kind of truth that's hard to find up at the adult table, but a truth nonetheless. Often they’re looking for something to fill that role for their own children. And sadly, they frequently bring along a bipedal lump of flesh or two—numbed by the flickering god—hoping I might have some mental-imaginative defibrillator tucked away in my book bag. Sometimes I do (and those are good times). Sometimes I don’t.

(Final caveat: my kids are, by God's grace, not numbed by the “flickering god”; they can be found reading books on the couches any given day.)

Conversation at Dinner

Son: Elizabeth has a guinea pig.

Dad: Why would she have a pygmy goat?

Eldest daughter: It's name should be Higby, the pygmy goat.

Son: Higpee, the pigby goat?

Youngest daughter: Higvee, the pygdee boat?

Middle daughter: Sounds like a cartoon.

Dad: Did you say guinea pig? I heard pygmy goat.

Mother: Laughing hysterically.

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.

Earthy, humble, ministry.

I have thought a lot lately about how I should be ministering better to the non-Christians I have contact with, as well as the Christians that I have the privilege to teach at church. The practical suggestion at the bottom of this quote from Sumpter seems right. I hope that my ministry, whether at BCS or teaching on Wednesday nights, or somewhere else will be characterized by this earthy, humble, reality.

This means that Christian ministry must have Spirit-glorified flesh. So how do we gin up the Spirit? Which songs must we sing, which liturgy should we follow, how do we get the Spirit to incarnate our words, the gospel words we speak to those around us? Part of the answer is that it’s impossible, and that we cannot “get” the Spirit to do anything. The Spirit blows where He wishes, and we do not know His plans or intentions. But we do have the Scriptures, and we know the ways that the Spirit tends to work. The Spirit likes weakness. The Spirit glorifies the humble. The Spirit carves life out of the dirt. One practical suggestion is that Christian ministry needs to embrace the weakness of human flesh. Pastors and elders and parents must learn to hug and kiss and cry and shout and plead. The Word has to sink down into our earth, our bodily earth, into our emotions, our passions, our bodies in order to spring up into newness of human life.

Read the whole thing.

The Bible on Friends

A friend speaks face-to-face. (Exo 33:11)
A close friend can be described as one “who is as your own soul.” (Deut 13:6)
A friend is expected to be loyal. (2 Sam 16:17)
A friend is expected to be loyal. (2 Chr 20:7)
Withholding kindness from a friend is as forsaking the fear of the Lord. (Job 6:14)
Bargaining over your friend is a bad thing. (Job 6:27)
Grieving for a friend is like lamenting one’s mother. (Psa 35:14)
A close friend is trusted, one who you eat bread with. (Psa 41:9)
A friend loves at all times. (Prov 17:17)
A friend sticks closer than a brother. (Prov 18:24)
Faithful are the wounds of a friend. (Prov 27:6)
A friend gives earnest counsel. (Prov 27:9)
A friend is not to be forsaken. (Prov 27:10)
A friend is the opposite of an enemy. (James 4:4)

Thank you—you know who you are!

This week, someone close enough to know some particulars about our life gave us a gift anonymously. Since we don't know who you are, we are spreading our thanksgiving.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

The fact that this person is anonymous does not diminish our thankfulness. Nor does it diminish our knowledge that the gift was given in love, love that first came from our savior Jesus Christ.

Thank you, whoever your are, in Christ.

The Abell Six

I want my kids to be educated, not trained.

Some people who know us have questioned why we home school our children. Hey, even I have. My first answer is that I want my kids to be able to think for themselves. In order to do that, I think they should be educated in critical thinking, by reading, asking questions, writing, and interacting with other great thinkers. They should learn how to diagram sentences and analyze propositions, and communicate properly whether in writing or speech. They should be able to problem solve.

On a related note, I have noticed that by God's grace, I don't really care what job my kids get when they grow up. Instead, I want them to be able to think and reason and talk and act in such a way that God is glorified and they are happy—whether they become a doctor, lawyer, or short order cook. I want my kids to be educated, not trained.

Here is a quote from Doug Wilson's recent blog post on higher education that inspired me to comment.

This unholy alliance between higher education and industry was successfully accomplished, and the system has become unquestioned, and almost unquestionable. Moreover, it has become a system that many Christian parents insist on maintaining. Even while opposing Obama's proposals for socialistic health care (because they don't want "socialism"), they insist on perpetuating the central engine of socialism (as well as the central example of it) by having their kids go to the very schools that Marx demanded of us, and got. And on top of that, when someone proposes that their older student attend a liberal arts school that is seeking self-consciously to reestablish the old tradition, the parental (and Marxist) objection is often that they "want their kid to be able to get a job." But before we think about getting a job, we need to train the next generation how to get a life.

Read the whole thing.