“There, but for the grace of God, goes John Bradford.”
In the middle of the 16th century, a Protestant, English roving chaplain named John Bradford had occasion to watch several criminals led to the gallows and executed. As the criminals were led up to the scaffold, Bradford uttered the famously quoted, albeit generically, saying. Bradford’s words are well known, but they are not well understood.
Without the God of the universe acting in particular on my own heart… Without Jehovah God opening my eyes to see the truth and opening my ears to hear and understand… Then I am like the disciples on the road to Emmaus. Who were blind, and although the Lord Jesus stood before them, walked the same dirt path, talked with them, even ate with them and discussed scripture with them, were unable to comprehend Him.
We are blind and stupid. We suppress the truth in unrighteousness. We are all criminals against God. We assert our own right to be like him, judging for ourselves what is right and wrong. We desire to be the determiner of our own destiny. We fight for the right to let our will be done. We are sinners. We deserve the gallows and much worse. There is no righteousness in us. It is filthy rags.
But, Christ opened my eyes, just like He opened the eyes of the disciples on that road. He changed me, revealed himself to me, and I in return could naught but bow my head and humbly submit to the King of Kings.
Without Him changing me in particular, I could never see Him. Once my eyes were opened I could not help but see Him. Without God’s particular grace towards me, I was lost. All that I am is because of His condescension towards me.So you see… “There but for the grace of God goes Joe Graber.”On January 31, 1555, John Bradford was burned at the stake as a heretic, in opposing the papacy, by the Roman Catholic Queen Mary. It was written that he endured the flame "as a fresh gale of wind in a hot summer's day, confirming by his death the truth of that doctrine he had so diligently and powerfully preached during his life." I should note that William Bradford, who came to the New World aboard the Mayflower and was governor of that settlement for 30 years, was likely a relative of John Bradford.
Update: Upstairs Music
Ok! Ok! I couldn’t take it any more.
At 10:30 PM, I was trying to go to bed, but the beat of the music just went on and on. Finally, I got up, put on my jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. I put on my shoes and grabbed my stainless steel, 40 caliber, Taurus Millennium. I strode quickly and confidently outside. I almost couldn’t hear the music at first, but then when I got up the stairs and stood in front of the door. The beat was coming right through the door, and I hammered my fist against the door, the gun in my other.
The music instantly ceased. I waited impatiently. Finally, the door opened, and the little man stood before me. “Yes?”
“I’m from down stairs, and…well…we’re going to bed now.”
“Oh, we’ll turn it down.”
From behind him I hear, “Is it too loud?”
“We’ve been listening to it since 5 O’clock.”
“Ok”
“Thanks.”
Then, I went down and went to bed
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I was thinking that I should apologize to them later… What do you think?
THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!
Just a special little "thank you" to the homosexuals living in the apartment above us for playing their music really loud at certain times. Lord knows what sounds we'd hear if they didn't play the music. Ewww!
Examine yourselves, whether ye be in the faith; prove your own selves. Know ye not your own selves, how that Jesus Christ is in you, except ye be reprobates? But I trust that ye shall know that we are not reprobates. Now I pray to God that ye do no evil; not that we should appear approved, but that ye should do that which is honest, though we be as reprobates. For we can do nothing against the truth, but for the truth.
(2Co 13:5-8)
It is much easier, and much more appealing to our humanity to portray the appearance of something rather than create the true. For instance it is much easier to portray substance, either in business or personally than it is to create real substance. It is often much easier to give the appearance of knowledge or skills than it is to actually develop such skill or acquire such knowledge.
We went to a minor league sports game the other day, and the arena was posh with expertly designed decorations, exciting displays of fireworks and flame as well as all sorts of themed accoutrements. Before the game began, the setting was truly awe inspiring and gave a sense of magnificence. Unfortunately, the teams took the field, and we all quickly discovered that the home team was amateurish. They were severely beaten, pounded, rather rubble-ized. It was embarrassing. The truth took about 30 seconds to be discovered on the playing field.
We all attempt to generate appearances on a personal basis. We all, either consciously or sub-consciously, want others to think about us in a certain way. What way is it that you try to fool people about yourself? Most of us want others to believe that we are of the highest moral integrity. We want others to think that we are productive and generous. We want people to admire our wealth generation abilities, or perhaps our self control. There are a myriad of ways that we try to keep up appearances, as the British comedy television show lampoons so well.
Paul wrote to the Corinthians that we should pray to God that we would do no evil, not in order to keep up appearances but to be honest and live truthfully.
What is it that most children who are raised in the church and then leave say? They tired of the appearances, the hypocrites, the deception. We put on masks and become actors, but we don’t understand that everyone sees through it. It takes about 30 seconds of reality before everyone knows exactly who you are.
Roy Williams, the world’s leading advertising guru, says that my generation that the next want one thing…reality. We are disgusted with the hype, the flash, the perfect appearances. Give us reality. Maybe the church should listen. Glitz is out. Real is in.
Capitalism of the Socialists
I recently had the honor (hmph!) of covertly observing two men, one young and one old, conversing in a coffee shop.
The young man had a Verizon cell phone which he used several times during the hour or so I watched them. He had a brand new, top of the line HP laptop computer decorated with pretty stickers from coffee shops he frequents. He was wearing a suit coat and a dress shirt with terribly worn blue jeans. Birkenstocks adorned his mostly hidden feet. He had gelled his hair and took great pains to look a certain way with his necklace and $200 backpack computer case. The young man, a boy really, was reading Erich Fromm’s The Same Society published by Henry Holt and Company, Inc. He probably bought it from Barnes and Nobles. He was smoking Camels and drank tea made by the Lipton Company.
The older man, who left first, was using a sleek new Dell computer and wore a posh wind breaker. He wore a newer ball cap with some kind of symbol on it.
The young man noticed that the man had a socialist newspaper sitting next to him, and struck up a conversation. It turned out that they were both hard-core socialists who detested the modern capitalist state and all it represents. They opposed the war in Iraq and discussed what demonstrations they had been to. They discussed various socialist writers and lamented the demise of the socialist party in America.
Finally, the man said goodbye, packed his things, put on his Kenneth Cole sunglasses and made his way out of the coffee shop to his awaiting Subaru B9 Tribeca. UPDATE!We went to a professional sporting event last night, and, as truth is stranger than fiction, we ran into the older man from the coffee shop. This professed socialist critic of all that is capitalistic was scalping tickets in front of the stadium. He actually asked me to buy and then asked if I had tickets to sell. What a country! (Could I make this up?)
A Confederacy of Dunces
I recently finished reading John Kennedy Toole’s masterpiece, A Confederacy of Dunces. The comedy of the book is rivaled only by that in Catch 22, another all-time great novel.
I find myself identifying with the writer as he observes the asinine logic and twisted fates of those around him. Every character, Ignatius, Myrna Minkoff, Irene Reilly, the woman named Santa and the accidental police hero.
On a serious note, Ignatius does represent our personal duality of abhorrence and fascination with evil and moral turpitude. He loudly decries nudity, debauchery in every form, but he also partakes heavily in all of these. He is also propelled forward in life by an intense hatred towards Myrna Minkoff; yet he is oddly seeking her satisfaction. He detests the demon which he must feed.
The marriage of the Levy’s has degenerated to a battle of personal pleasures. Mrs. Levy adores bludgeoning her husband’s ego at every opportunity, and Mr. Levy retaliates by scorning and deserting her at every possibility. As usual the kids are caught in the middle as the parents battle for their affections.
The rollicking fun by which this story is unrolled is gut wrenching. Tears of laughter make the book difficult to read at times. Reading of the lumbering Ignatius in his half hotdog vender/ half pirate outfit pushing a paradise vending cart down the street , and the reaction of society women horrified at the sign “12 inches of paradise” taped to the front is just too much. Officer Mancuso’s daily disguises as he attempts to root out evil on the streets of New Orleans and his eventual relegation to a public restroom for weeks in search of a criminal is just tearful hilarity.
Ignatius’ filing system which he institutes at Levy pants is truly revolutionary. He was a man before his time!
Read the book. I guarantee you’ll love it.
I should note that the book was published 12 years after John Kennedy Toole’s death. Toole was depressed with his lack of literary success, and the book probably contains some of that depressed view of life, and he committed suicide at age 32. His mother pressed the book on Walker Percy for years, and he ended up championing its publication in 1980. Such a sad story.
