Sunday, December 18, 2011

Advent Thoughts

Breathless anticipation. The world waited for the promised seed of the woman--the One who would crush the head of the serpent and redeem Adam's fallen children for good. Prophet after prophet foretold what was coming: The Messiah would be born of a virgin, in Bethlehem. He would sit on David's throne. He would be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. The world waited; creation groaned, and then, in the fullness of time -- The Lord Jesus was born in Bethlehem.

As a result, every boy in that town under the age of two was murdered.

Wait - what? This story is supposed to be nice and sweet, meek and mild. What is that doing there? And what is going on after that? This child grows up and is stalked by Satan; his family opposes his mission; his friends die; other friends desert him while one betrays him unto death. He suffers the most horrible death imaginable, but worse - undergoes the full wrath of God for sins he didn't even commit.

He rose again. He ascended to heaven. He is coming again to judge the living and the dead and take his sheep to eternal pastures he has prepared for them.

Oh, but in the meantime babies are still getting murdered. My friends are suffering. My heart is often in turmoil. My sin seems to rule me so that what I do is not the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do--this I keep on doing. Who will rescue me from this body of death?

Thanks be to God--through Jesus Christ our Lord!
Whatever happens, whatever you see,
Whatever your eyes tell you has become of me--
This is not, not the end.
I am making all things new again.

(This song--and video--are really worth your time)

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Why Us?

I just finished the most challenging, fascinating, stimulating, and breathtaking book I've read in a long time: Why Us? How Science Rediscovered the Mystery of Ourselves by James Le Fanu. I knew I would like this book from the first two paragraphs:

"Wonders are there many," observed the Greek dramatist Sophocles--"but none more wonderful than Man." And rightly so for man, as far as we can tell, is the sole witness of the splendours of the universe he inhabits - though consistently less impressed by his existence than would seem warranted. 
"Men go abroad to wonder at the height of mountains, at the huge waves of the sea, at the long courses of the rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the stars," observed St. Augustine in the fifth century AD, "and they pass by themselves without wondering." 
I devoured the book, eager to wonder at the mystery of human life, the complexity of God's creation. I found that breathtaking wonder, sometimes so powerful that it brought tears to my eyes. But I also found much more. Working from the "inside," Le Fanu uses science's most recent discoveries, particularly the Human Genome Project and breakthroughs in neuroscience, to call into question the entire system of scientific materialism that has reigned supreme for the last 150 years.

Le Fanu begins the book treating Darwinism as axiomatic, so much so that at one point I put the book down and complained to my brother. "This is ridiculous. Can he really not see the flaw in this?" My brother smiled and said, "Keep reading." I did so, and discovered that Le Fanu had laid a cunning trap. Through challenging (but fascinating) discussions of science, ranging from "prehistoric" man to the law of gravity, the secrets of DNA and the human genome, the electrical activity of the brain as it perceives and interprets the world, and more, the author exposes the flaws of a solely materialist understanding of life. He builds his case calmly and rationally until you reach the end and realize that the prevailing scientific dogma has just imploded under the weight of its own findings. Darwinism is finished. Is there any chance for further scientific investigation to vindicate it? Le Fanu says, no.

I found two things striking: First, the lengths to which "Science" will go to ignore the facts. To admit that there may be a non-material reality, such as the human mind and soul, destroys the myth that Science is the sole objective and rational arbiter of knowledge about the world. To admit that something inobservable by Science might be real is to admit that Science can't have all the answers. Rather than admit that, for the last century and a half, scientists have shoved under the rug anything that doesn't fit in the Theory...scientists have failed, in other words, to be true scientists, and they continue to do so.

Second, I was struck by the incredible mental gymnastics and, to be frank, spiritual suicide undertaken by evolutionary biologists, whose thinking has become futile. They are so committed to denying the existence of anything they can't know and explain that they are willing to sacrifice their very being. One example:

...one of the most astonishing claims in the history of science--that we are not, as we appear to ourselves to be, free and autonomous agents, but are rather the playthings of our 'selfish' genes. We are, apparently, machines created by genes for their own self-propagation--like some throwaway envelope, which they inhabit temporarily for a lifetime, before moving on to the next generation.

"They [the genes] swarm in huge colonies safe inside gigantic lumbering robots [ourselves] sealed off from the outside world, communicating with it by tortuous indirect routes, manipulating it by remote control,' writes evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins. 'They are in you and in me; they created us, body and mind; and their preservation is the ultimate rationale for our existence. We are their survival machines."
After sitting through countless college and postgraduate classes where Reformed Christianity was viciously attacked for its "determinism," I am stunned to find the open and unapologetic avowal, over and over, of a much more thorough determinism - a determinism as bleak, dark, hopeless, and meaningless as you will ever find. The materialistic view of the universe is the most demeaning, personhood-rejecting, soul-crushing...oh wait, there's no such thing as a soul.

I read this book at the perfect time. Our church's theme this year is "renewing our mind" as we begin a new series studying the book of Romans. The complex nature of Le Fanu's discussion awoke my intellectual hunger, but also paired perfectly with my study of Romans 1. The glories of creation Le Fanu describes shout the glory of the Creator (though Le Fanu himself never does so). As I read about the many wonders of life, I was forcibly made aware of God's "eternal power and divine nature, being understood from what has been made." Le Fanu demonstrated without doubt that secular man has missed what is plainly before him, making this book the best illustration I know of Romans 1: 18-23:

The wrath of God is being revealed from heaven against all the godlessness and wickedness of men who suppress the truth by their wickedness, since what may be known about God is plain to them, because God has made it plain to them. For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse.
For although they knew God, they neither glorified him as God nor gave thanks to him, but their thinking became futile and their foolish hearts were darkened. Although they claimed to be wise, they became fools and exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images made to look like mortal man and birds and animals and reptiles.

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Inbox Freedom

For the first several years I had my gmail address, my mail was imported into a desktop client. Thus when I started using gmail in the browser, I had thousands of "unread" emails in my inbox. At some point I marked them all read so I could at least tell when I had new mail, but I still had an inbox that was hundreds of pages long. While I filed/deleted mail as it came in, nothing ever made a dent on those past years of correspondence. It felt like one of those closets in the cartoons - everything stuffed in there until some poor sucker opens the door, and then, avalanche.

This month I decided enough was enough. I went through and deleted/archived my entire inbox. As of this moment, I have TWO emails in my inbox. And after I finish writing this, I am going to do the tasks associated with them, and then archive them, and then I will have ZERO emails in my inbox. This is a very disorienting experience.

I feel free!


Thursday, August 25, 2011

Legacy

Every Sunday of my childhood, I would rush out of the church service and line up to shake our pastor's hand. He would smile a warm greeting, and as he took my hand I could feel something round and hard transfer from his palm to mine - a red-and-white striped peppermint candy.

Sunday afternoon we gathered to remember this man, Albert G. Edwards III, and the tables at the reception were decorated with peppermints and Al's trademark bow ties. What was missing was his warm smile...and a pun or two or three.

Albert G. Edwards

Al was a gracious and humble man who had devoted his life to the proclamation of the gospel of Jesus Christ. He asked that there be no eulogizing at his funeral. He wanted the focus on Christ, not on him, and it was. As my dad said in his prayer, the way to honor Al is to honor what Al stood for - Christ. And yet, as Al's son-in-law delivered the message, he said there was one person Al couldn't stop from eulogizing him - God himself. "Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord," God says (Revelation 14). Al was in the Lord, and the Lord calls him blessed.

The weekend wouldn't have been complete, though, without sharing stories of Al - but we had plenty of time to do that as we gathered with his family. His sister showed me pictures of him growing up in Iraq; his brother told me about the time he rigged an old telephone to a firecracker to spook a cat; the friends we drove out with shared how he had made a match between them; I shared how he once took me home from church (when I had been left behind accidentally) in his police chaplain car - a highlight of my childhood.

As I thought about it, though, I realized that the memories I have of Al are only a minuscule part of his influence on my life. He came to us in 1980, when our church was only a few years old and had recently had a conflict with its first pastor. He left a well-to-do church in New Jersey and took a 50% pay cut. It is Al who set our church on a solid foundation, trained up our leaders, and preached the gospel to us for 12 years, then helped find a strong replacement when he retired (that successor has now pastored us for 19 years and counting). It is impossible to trace the "trickle-down" impact of his ministry. The influence he had on my parents certainly affected me. Rocky Mountain Community Church has been the single most important component of my life, and what would it have been without Al Edwards? I can't imagine.

Al left a legacy even in his last days. One of his caretakers told me how no one she has ever cared for has said "thank you" so much and so sincerely until the moment he couldn't speak any more. Of all the deaths she has seen, she said, Al's was the most full of joy. And I know why. This is what we sang to close the service, at his request - Al's message to us:

Jesus lives, and so shall I.
Death! thy sting is gone forever!
He who deigned for me to die,
lives, the bands of death to sever.
He shall raise me from the dust;
Jesus is my hope and trust. 

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

The Crown of the Year

It's been Montana Driving Week. I've made three trips: to Forsyth and back (200 miles), Absarokee and back (100 miles), and Bozeman and back (300 miles). This state is beautiful. As I drive I am filled to the brim with thankfulness that I can live in such a lovely place. Right now is a particularly joyous time to drive, because I can see the land flourishing. The crops look magnificent - wheat, corn, sugar beets. The hay fields have all been mowed and are filled with dozens of giant round hay bales (one of my favorite sights is a mown hay field). Even the trains of gleaming coal cars filled to the brim with jet black fuel seem more abundant this year.

As I was sharing my delight with my dad today, he pointed me to Psalm 65, which describes the gifts I am experiencing and praises the Giver: 

 9 You care for the land and water it;
   you enrich it abundantly.
The streams of God are filled with water
   to provide the people with grain,
   for so you have ordained it.[c]
10 You drench its furrows
   and level its ridges;
you soften it with showers
   and bless its crops.
11 You crown the year with your bounty,
   and your carts overflow with abundance.
12 The grasslands of the desert overflow;
   the hills are clothed with gladness.
13 The meadows are covered with flocks
   and the valleys are mantled with grain;
   they shout for joy and sing.

It really does feel that the year is crowned with bounty and that the grasslands of our dry, arid state are overflowing. I shout for joy and sing!

Saturday, August 13, 2011

Living a Dream

I have always loved horses. This seems to be a common affection among young girls, and mine was fueled by my family's brief stint as horse-owners during my formative years. I have wonderful memories of riding my horse Misty down in the river-bottoms below our home in Shepherd, even though my little pad saddle had a tendency to slip and would dump me in the road more often than not. (Misty would stop as soon as I fell off and patiently wait for me to get up, stop crying, and dust myself off.)

In high school, long after our own horses had been sold to purchase my brother's classical guitar, I took a few months of equestrian lessons. In them, I learned how to do all those things I had been too young to do with our own horses - saddle and bridle, posting trot, canter, and even jump, all in an English saddle that never, I am happy to report, dumped me in the road. It was a sad decision to give up lessons to save money for college.

But the dream of horsemanship lingered long past any lessons, and I have always found myself longing to be around--not to mention on--horses. And yet, when my friend invited me to spend three days riding on her ranch this week, I was nervous. Maybe I didn't have the skills to ride any more. Maybe I would be too sore after the first day to survive the second and third. Maybe I had romanticized horses so much in my mind that I would be disappointed to find them as unappealing as I find most other animals.

I went despite my doubts, of course. I would have had to be very strong to withstand the siren call of six beautiful quarter horses! Over the three days I re-learned, under my friend's patient and skillful instruction, how to saddle up, how to trot, how to canter, how to discipline. I also learned, to my satisfaction, that I love horses as much in reality as I do in my imagination.


Sarah took me for miles over her beautiful ranch, through pastures full of sagebrush, down into gullies and up on ridges. The last day, I found myself cantering fast down a dirt track road with the wind singing in my ears and I felt like I had stumbled into my own dreams - only reality is far better.

Monday, July 25, 2011

Jesus Is Lord!

Yesterday's sermon on the Lordship of Christ came at the perfect time. I was reminded that Jesus reigns supreme--that God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. (Philippians 2:9-11)

Pastor Alfred challenged us in our creed. When we are asked "who is the real Jesus," do we "confess with our mouth that Jesus is Lord"? (Romans 10:9) Do we emphasize Jesus as "Savior" to the neglect of Jesus as "Lord," trying to separate what cannot be sundered? Do we think about what we are affirming when we recite the early church creeds, each of which designate Jesus as Lord?

Additionally, the sermon challenged us in our life. What if I began to live with the conscious thought that my whole life is under Jesus's supreme authority? What if my confession "Jesus is Lord" moved from a private act of the heart to a public pledge of allegiance? What if I fought the overwhelming culture of privatism that allows Jesus to be personally engaging but publicly irrelevant, and demands that we shrink him "to a little godlet around our neck."? Do I call myself a witness for Christ when I'm only a secret agent?

Today I woke up with renewed purpose. I asked the Lord to show me where in my life he says "mine" and I say "not yours." This week is a key one, containing several deadlines. I have a lot of work before me, and a lot of opportunity to give in to anxiety and distrust. Instead, I pray that I can give my work back to him, allow him to rule my heart. I aim to work unto his glory; I want the banner of his Lordship to destroy my anxieties and shape my actions and my attitudes.

There is not one square inch in the whole domain of our human existence over which Christ, who is Sovereign over all, does not cry: "Mine!" - Abraham Kuyper