Jehovah is the God of ordinary people having ordinary days in an ordinary world.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
God of the Ordinary
Why is it that we seem to need some extraordinary or unusual event to press us to the Messiah? When we hear a particularly moving testimony or a praise report of someone experiencing an unusually striking healing we may clap, shout, wave or give thanks to the Lord for his goodness.
What about all the people who don’t experience a healing from cancer? What about the true convert that Christ doesn’t release from jail? What about those who died in the car or plane crash rather than walking away without a scratch? Was God less real to them? Did they have less faith? Were they walking in some partial will of God or less than the ultimate that He had for them?
The miracle that is my breath is given to me as a gift every minute of every day that I live. At any moment God could have simply not actively desired that I exist, and I would not. The manna is laying all around us, but we’ve grown tired and accustomed to it after all these years.
Think about it as you go about your ordinary day.
Why is it that we seem to need some extraordinary or unusual event to press us to the Messiah? When we hear a particularly moving testimony or a praise report of someone experiencing an unusually striking healing we may clap, shout, wave or give thanks to the Lord for his goodness.
What about all the people who don’t experience a healing from cancer? What about the true convert that Christ doesn’t release from jail? What about those who died in the car or plane crash rather than walking away without a scratch? Was God less real to them? Did they have less faith? Were they walking in some partial will of God or less than the ultimate that He had for them?
The miracle that is my breath is given to me as a gift every minute of every day that I live. At any moment God could have simply not actively desired that I exist, and I would not. The manna is laying all around us, but we’ve grown tired and accustomed to it after all these years.
Think about it as you go about your ordinary day.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Roger l’Escrivel
I’ve been in a strange mood the last month or two, and the best way I can relate it is to mention a book I’m currently reading. A Booke of Days by Stephen J. Rivele is the translation (with some improvement on the text) of the journal of Roger l’Escrivel, one of the leaders of the first crusade in 1096.
During the course of the crusade, the writer is disappointed by men around him, disappointed by himself, and disappointed by his circumstances. He wasn’t devastated or angry or bitter…just disappointed.
Roger l’Escrivel also found the cause that brought meaning to his life, the cause that gave him hope, the cause that seemed so profound at one time…lost its luster as it grew familiar. He began to see the edges, and he began to see the flaws. Shortly into his journey, he found himself merely along for the ride.
Sometimes when we feel directionless, purposeless, and disappointed the best thing to do is just keep riding in the direction you were last pointed.
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On another (totally unrelated note) I am excited that a couple of weeks ago I bought shares of Lexar, a technology company that makes flash media. Today they won their lawsuit against Toshiba who stole trade secrets from Lexar. Also, check out Renal Care Group (RCI)...thousands of people are alive in this country only by dialysis.
I’ve been in a strange mood the last month or two, and the best way I can relate it is to mention a book I’m currently reading. A Booke of Days by Stephen J. Rivele is the translation (with some improvement on the text) of the journal of Roger l’Escrivel, one of the leaders of the first crusade in 1096.
During the course of the crusade, the writer is disappointed by men around him, disappointed by himself, and disappointed by his circumstances. He wasn’t devastated or angry or bitter…just disappointed.
Roger l’Escrivel also found the cause that brought meaning to his life, the cause that gave him hope, the cause that seemed so profound at one time…lost its luster as it grew familiar. He began to see the edges, and he began to see the flaws. Shortly into his journey, he found himself merely along for the ride.
Sometimes when we feel directionless, purposeless, and disappointed the best thing to do is just keep riding in the direction you were last pointed.
------------
On another (totally unrelated note) I am excited that a couple of weeks ago I bought shares of Lexar, a technology company that makes flash media. Today they won their lawsuit against Toshiba who stole trade secrets from Lexar. Also, check out Renal Care Group (RCI)...thousands of people are alive in this country only by dialysis.
Monday, March 07, 2005
Voltaire’s Candide
I just finished Voltaire’s classic Candide, and it has challenged some thinking while cementing some ever more solidly. Voltaire, actually named Francois-Marie Arouet, wrote Candide in 1759 as an indictment of Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz and his metaphysical ideas. Voltaire’s hatred of Leibniz and his ideas was likely rooted in the contrast of Leibniz’s faithful devotion to Christ versus Voltaire’s humanist, anti-christ philosophies. Voltaire was a precursor of all that France became with the virtual collapse of the church, the humanist revolution, and the continuing godlessness.
Candide is a naïve man who ends up traveling the world as he is subjected to one horrible circumstance and act after another. Along the way he meets a stream of people who have been beaten down and trodden on by society, and they even have contests occasionally to see who is the more wretched.
Voltaire is trying to show that the world is a horrible place with random violence, disease and corruption, and that if there was a God he would have to be sadistic to have even created such a thing as human beings. This is in contrast to Leibniz who said that the world could not be perfect because it would therefore not be distinct from God, but that the world is as good as can be without being perfect. Leibniz argued that although we may not see it, every disaster, every unpleasant thing that may befall us, every disappointment is working out God’s goodness in some way.
Voltaire ends the book with the only happy man in the entire tome. The man works hard at what is set before him (tending a garden) because it keeps him from the three evils: boredom, vice and want. The man doesn’t spend his time questioning and arguing over life, but he simply submits to his state and makes the best of it. Eventually, Candide sees the wisdom in this and ends the book by responding to a philosophical remark with “but, we must tend our garden.”
Voltaire pointed out that the only way to judge one’s misery is to find out what he values most. I agree. If I value my possessions above all else, my poverty would be my misery. If I value my health above all else, my illness would be my misery. But if I value my God above all else, how can I be miserable in any condition? Voltaire proves the point even as he misses the point. Nothing on this earth, where moths corrupt and thieves break in to steal, should be valued as God.
You may be able to take my pencil…but try taking my salvation.
I just finished Voltaire’s classic Candide, and it has challenged some thinking while cementing some ever more solidly. Voltaire, actually named Francois-Marie Arouet, wrote Candide in 1759 as an indictment of Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz and his metaphysical ideas. Voltaire’s hatred of Leibniz and his ideas was likely rooted in the contrast of Leibniz’s faithful devotion to Christ versus Voltaire’s humanist, anti-christ philosophies. Voltaire was a precursor of all that France became with the virtual collapse of the church, the humanist revolution, and the continuing godlessness.
Candide is a naïve man who ends up traveling the world as he is subjected to one horrible circumstance and act after another. Along the way he meets a stream of people who have been beaten down and trodden on by society, and they even have contests occasionally to see who is the more wretched.
Voltaire is trying to show that the world is a horrible place with random violence, disease and corruption, and that if there was a God he would have to be sadistic to have even created such a thing as human beings. This is in contrast to Leibniz who said that the world could not be perfect because it would therefore not be distinct from God, but that the world is as good as can be without being perfect. Leibniz argued that although we may not see it, every disaster, every unpleasant thing that may befall us, every disappointment is working out God’s goodness in some way.
Voltaire ends the book with the only happy man in the entire tome. The man works hard at what is set before him (tending a garden) because it keeps him from the three evils: boredom, vice and want. The man doesn’t spend his time questioning and arguing over life, but he simply submits to his state and makes the best of it. Eventually, Candide sees the wisdom in this and ends the book by responding to a philosophical remark with “but, we must tend our garden.”
Voltaire pointed out that the only way to judge one’s misery is to find out what he values most. I agree. If I value my possessions above all else, my poverty would be my misery. If I value my health above all else, my illness would be my misery. But if I value my God above all else, how can I be miserable in any condition? Voltaire proves the point even as he misses the point. Nothing on this earth, where moths corrupt and thieves break in to steal, should be valued as God.
You may be able to take my pencil…but try taking my salvation.
Saturday, March 05, 2005
Judgment is Death
Today, I finished Children of the Alley by Naguib Mahfouz.
There were two specific things that I took from the story. First, evil is like darkness. It is always present and immediately able to fill the void when light or goodness fails. No training, little time, and no practice are needed in order to have a moral vacuum filled with evil. Unlike the way cold slowly creeps in when heat is removed, evil immediately fills a void the way darkness fills a room when the light is put out.
Second, goodness or progress is made possible only by the extreme effort of strong men or women. Justice and goodness can never be built in to a system or an organization; rather, it must be taught to the young. When we entrust a system, we have a tendency to not train our children, and the system quickly degenerates.
Finally, a last bit of wisdom from Mahfouz ---- Rumor is truth. Truth is Judgment. Judgment is death.
Today, I finished Children of the Alley by Naguib Mahfouz.
There were two specific things that I took from the story. First, evil is like darkness. It is always present and immediately able to fill the void when light or goodness fails. No training, little time, and no practice are needed in order to have a moral vacuum filled with evil. Unlike the way cold slowly creeps in when heat is removed, evil immediately fills a void the way darkness fills a room when the light is put out.
Second, goodness or progress is made possible only by the extreme effort of strong men or women. Justice and goodness can never be built in to a system or an organization; rather, it must be taught to the young. When we entrust a system, we have a tendency to not train our children, and the system quickly degenerates.
Finally, a last bit of wisdom from Mahfouz ---- Rumor is truth. Truth is Judgment. Judgment is death.
Wednesday, March 02, 2005
Children of the Alley
Naguib Mahfouz (of Egypt) is one of my favorite authors, mainly, I think, for his intergenerational approach to storytelling. I am currently finishing his Children of the Alley in which he traverses something like 10 generations as he retells the story of humanity from a decidedly Egyptian local perspective. Michener and Uris do some of the same in their works.
I am keenly aware of the importance of raising godly children and the fact that each of these generations leaves only their children and their children’s values behind them, and these intergenerational stories subtly emphasize this point no matter who writes them.
My wife and I have no children of our own nor can we have any of our own. Before I get 100 responses telling me to wear boxers and telling us to relax, I should explain. First, our “complications” are not that simple. Second, we chose long ago (we knew this well before we married) to accept whatever hand we were dealt in life trusting that God had a design for our life. We chose to submit rather than spend all of our time, emotions, and passions fighting for what we want. I’m not saying that those who choose otherwise are wrong just that this is what we’ve chosen.
It could be that this is why I’m a pastor and Jennifer is a kindergarten teacher. Jennifer treats her students as her own children. I think part of the reason is that she doesn’t have the stress of going home to take care of her own kids after school. We are also very free to follow where ever the Lord leads. I don’t have to worry about even leaving an inheritance. We could move across the country tomorrow upon the Lord’s command with little implication.
I should note that there is D’Montiz. He lives with his great-grandma, and has been “hanging out” with us for about a year and a half. He says we treat him like a son, and sometimes I feel like that. Sometimes I wonder what I’m leaving in him for the future. It is also painful to be that close to a 10 year old, but not be able to actually call him your son. You always have to be ready for him to be gone from your life.
In closing, there are two tendencies that being childless create. First, I tend to despise the taking of children for granted and not spend time with them or especially putting them in daycare. Second, I tend to be very sensitive to how children are raised, what they are taught and how they are disciplined. I look at families, and think about how different I would feel if I were in their situation. It is the lack of the child that shows just how much more important the children are.
The truth is that if I had children, I’d probably be much more casual about this topic, but all I can do is know and understand that I haven’t walked in the shoes of the parent.
Naguib Mahfouz (of Egypt) is one of my favorite authors, mainly, I think, for his intergenerational approach to storytelling. I am currently finishing his Children of the Alley in which he traverses something like 10 generations as he retells the story of humanity from a decidedly Egyptian local perspective. Michener and Uris do some of the same in their works.
I am keenly aware of the importance of raising godly children and the fact that each of these generations leaves only their children and their children’s values behind them, and these intergenerational stories subtly emphasize this point no matter who writes them.
My wife and I have no children of our own nor can we have any of our own. Before I get 100 responses telling me to wear boxers and telling us to relax, I should explain. First, our “complications” are not that simple. Second, we chose long ago (we knew this well before we married) to accept whatever hand we were dealt in life trusting that God had a design for our life. We chose to submit rather than spend all of our time, emotions, and passions fighting for what we want. I’m not saying that those who choose otherwise are wrong just that this is what we’ve chosen.
It could be that this is why I’m a pastor and Jennifer is a kindergarten teacher. Jennifer treats her students as her own children. I think part of the reason is that she doesn’t have the stress of going home to take care of her own kids after school. We are also very free to follow where ever the Lord leads. I don’t have to worry about even leaving an inheritance. We could move across the country tomorrow upon the Lord’s command with little implication.
I should note that there is D’Montiz. He lives with his great-grandma, and has been “hanging out” with us for about a year and a half. He says we treat him like a son, and sometimes I feel like that. Sometimes I wonder what I’m leaving in him for the future. It is also painful to be that close to a 10 year old, but not be able to actually call him your son. You always have to be ready for him to be gone from your life.
In closing, there are two tendencies that being childless create. First, I tend to despise the taking of children for granted and not spend time with them or especially putting them in daycare. Second, I tend to be very sensitive to how children are raised, what they are taught and how they are disciplined. I look at families, and think about how different I would feel if I were in their situation. It is the lack of the child that shows just how much more important the children are.
The truth is that if I had children, I’d probably be much more casual about this topic, but all I can do is know and understand that I haven’t walked in the shoes of the parent.
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