Saturday, December 12, 2015

Reflections on Advent

​As I get old enough to remember my hometown being slightly but permanently different than it is now, I find that a growing number of my memories happened in places that no longer exist. These are important, formative, and gut-wrenching memories- things that shaped who I am and how I see the world- and I can’t ever go back. A. E. Housman wrote it this way:

Into my heart an air that kills
From yon far country blows;
What are those blue remembered hills
What spires; what farms are those?

It is the land of lost content
I see it, shining plain
Those happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.
Sometimes the places I remember become other places. The classroom of an English teacher I had in high school is now a fifth grade classroom, with colorful posters of tips and tricks for math and grammar. I can technically go back, but it’s not the same. I remember how the wind would get caught in the narrow alley between the two modular buildings and sound a mournful retreat as it escaped, and if one had recently read a ghost story, it wasn’t difficult to imagine someone as trapped in loneliness as I was inhabiting the sound.
But even when the location hasn’t changed, I have. So it isn’t really the same anyway.
I find a similar feeling creeping in when I think of Christmas. It’s as though I remember walking through a pristine forest, with dark green trees and white snow and a Narnian lamppost, but when I return I find that the place has been leveled and a strip mall built.
The commercialization of Christmas is a perennial complaint. I heard it all growing up. And as amusing as it is for some of you who know that I’m only twenty-eight to hear me wistfully recall my younger days, remember that even in that short time, huge changes have taken place. Since my childhood, the internet has risen to prominence in American commerce, causing retailers to raise their advertising efforts to fever pitch. In addition, social media has provided a constant stream of images, not of strangers modeling the newest fashions, but my own friends and neighbors displaying a carefully curated exhibit of their “best life now.”
I recently heard a minister make the comment that television’s sole aim is to create discontent. Think about it: how does every commercial go? A task or state of being is described that is uncomfortable or undesirable, and a need is created. Then the product or service being advertised swoops in to fulfill that need, and all they want in return is a few dollars. Is it any wonder that we never seem to catch up? We’re constantly surrounded by discontentment propaganda. As Wordsworth said:
The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;-
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
we have given our hearts away. A sordid boon!”
The temptation to sin is like an advertisement. It takes a need that you feel, real or perceived, and it advertises itself as the only solution.  Over the last century or so, the most common besetting temptations known to mankind have been given a psychological and scientific backing. Lust is now psychosexual development. Self-actualization reigns supreme. And all the while, as Dave Ramsey puts it, we go deeper and deeper into debt to buy things we don’t need with money we don’t have to impress people we don’t even like, and while we shell out more and more money to endless therapy sessions and self-help literature, the real needs of our souls go unfulfilled.
Every human spirit is suffering from being disconnected from its source: the love and holiness of their Creator.
St. Athanasius put it this way:
“The presence and love of the Word had called them into being; inevitably, therefore when they lost the knowledge of God, they lost existence with it…”
That lofty sounding existential problem is brought down to earth by St. Augustine: “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you."
The only hope for the human soul is to be reunited, to be grafted back into the vine. A rose can survive in a vase for a little while, but it won’t grow and thrive unless it’s being nourished by the plant it sprang from. Inevitably, the petals wither and fall to the ground.
Knowing all this, God sent his one and only Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, down to the earth in human form. He lived the life we should have lived, and died the death we should have died, so that by putting our trust in Him, we may gain eternal life.
Christmas, once the celebration of the birth of our Lord Jesus, has descended into an orgy of “stuff.”
Now, I know that the true meaning of Christmas cannot be compromised. But as I get older, I find that my soul rejoices in the celebration, not of Christmas, but of Advent. In the season of Advent, we live in remembrance of what is past, and eager and exhausted anticipation of what is coming. The French resistance doesn’t make any sense without D-Day. The martyrs beneath the alter cry out, “How long, O Lord?”
There’s a tension in the words of our Lord while He walked among us: we are to live not only as slaves whose master’s return may be long delayed, but also as slaves whose master’s return may be imminent.
A definition of faith that’s been helpful to me is “living one’s life in the light of the promises of God.” Advent allows us to acknowledge and wrestle with the immense difficulty of living in the tension between the “already” and the “not-yet.” We can cry out “how long, O Lord?” when drugs, violence, depression, and the petty pace creeps in from day to day. We can also joyfully proclaim that the year of the Lord’s favor has come.
It’s okay to be sick and tired of being sick and tired. And it’s okay to be hurting and confused and lost. But the day is coming when every tear will be wiped away, after every knee has bowed and every tongue confessed that Jesus is Lord.
Even so, come, Lord Jesus.
Amen.




Links:



Housman:


Wordsworth:


Athenasius:


Augustine:


Scriptures:

Saints beneath the altar:


Live as slaves:


The year of the Lord’s Favor:


Even so, come:


Wednesday, September 16, 2015

How to Win at Life



Win at people, win at life. 


God is a person. Humans are people. According to the Westminster confession of faith, the purpose of life is to glorify God and to enjoy Him forever. Your  raison d'ĂȘtre is a relationship. So the better you are at relationships, the better you are at life. 

My hope for this post is that it encourages you to take your relationships more seriously. The vertical one, which is vital, and the horizontal ones, which allows the life and love you get vertically to flow out to everyone around you. 

As Christians, we are a nation set apart; a holy priesthood. What do priests do? They mediate the grace and glory of God to everyone else. 


We're the hands and feet of Christ in the world. 

We can't do our jobs properly unless we maintain a supply line to the grace and truth of our Lord through the Holy Spirit. There are certain things that act as exercises for us to keep that connection strong. 

Prayer, reading and meditating on scripture, acts of service, corporate worship, charitable giving, and other good works don't get us "in", but they are signs that an inner transformation has taken place. 

If you're sick to your stomach, you check what you've eaten. If you feel spiritually dry, you check your pipeline to the source, and you repair any leaks. 

Ask the Holy Spirit to reveal to you any unrepented sin in your life that's clogging the pipeline. He's faithful to forgive you and cleanse you of all unrighteousness, and restore your relationship as though it had never gone wrong. 

Recognize all the good gifts you've been given, and thank the Lord for them. 

Memorize some scriptures to act as shields from temptation. Your weapon isn't useful if it's out of ammo. Fill your magazine with truth bullets. 

Any more thoughts to add?

Monday, August 24, 2015

From Purpose to Providence

When I was in my late teens, making important decisions about my career and life goals, I remember waiting with eager anticipation for the moment when the clouds would part and I would receive a divine revelation of what my path would be. I believed that there was a God, that He had a wonderful plan for my life, and that if I sought after Him then the plan would be revealed.

I also believed, deep beneath the patina of religion, that the longings of my heart would be satisfied by a challenging, rewarding career and a perfect wife, and that any residual angst would be mopped up by a Mercedes-Benz convertible.

When my fervent prayers for guidance seemed to fall on deaf ears, I would vacillate between anger and fear. See, the deal I had with the Almighty was that if I did things He liked, then He'd do things I liked. Anger that God wasn't holding up His end of the bargain, and fear that I didn't (and couldn't) fulfill my obligations, were things that I stuffed down so that I could focus on school, work, and a social life. 

A sense of injustice is the first step on the road to victimhood. It keeps the question of one's own responsibilities on the back burner. "Hope deferred makes the heart sick," says the Proverb. My hope for stuff was deferred for a long time, and I was nauseated. The problem was, my hunger for stuff was based on a faulty premise- that stuff would satisfy. Here's a hint- it doesn't. 

Giving my longing for stuff a religious window dressing didn't help much. Not only did it conceal the problem- longing for 'purpose' was biblical, right?- but it was offensive to the One who had already freely offered the most precious gift of all: Himself. It reminds me of Tim Keller's conversation with a little girl in his congregation. When he asked, "don't you know that the king of the universe suffered, died, and rose again so that you could be together with Him forever?" And she responded with "well, yeah, but what good is that if you can't get a date?"

C.S. Lewis makes a similar point: 

"It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased."


What would our lives look like if we really, truly grasped the awesome reality that we are the redeemed of the Lord? That we are ever before Him, and that our names are written on His hands?

That's why I've given up on praying for God to reveal my purpose. It's too much. I wouldn't understand it if it was revealed. And if I didn't find it to my liking, I would almost certainly work to undermine it.

What am I doing instead? I'm praying that the Lord would use my experiences, my reading, my study of scripture, my relationships, and all the other things that constitute a life, to form me into a man after His own heart. Psalm 105 says "look to the Lord and His strength; seek His face always." Our Lord Himself said "seek first the kingdom of heaven, and all these things will be added to you."

Instead of asking the Lord for the tools and resources to be my own boss, I'm asking for a change in my heart that makes me more receptive to His authority.

What does a recon marine need more: a "situation room", with maps, video screens, live intelligence, and fast access to world leaders and analysts, or his rifle and radio?

All that stuff is necessary to his success, but it's not realistic for him to carry it all with him. It's too bulky to deploy on the front line. The vital thing is his ability to defend himself and take the fight to the enemy, and his link to his HQ. That means his two most important tools are his rifle and his radio.

As believers, our offensive and defensive capability is our knowledge and application of scripture to our thoughts, words, and actions. And our radio is prayer. Do those two things better and you'll get a lot closer to "purpose" than you realize.

That's short shrift, I know. But I hope to expand on those things at a later date, Good Lord willing.

Until then, give this some thought and comment or argue if you want.



Saturday, July 18, 2015

No More Raids

As I read my Bible this morning, I came across the life of Elisha in the first part of 2 Kings. The story that grabbed me was about an army that was sent up to attack Israel.


14 Then he sent horses and chariots and a strong force there. They went by night and surrounded the city.
15 When the servant of the man of God got up and went out early the next morning, an army with horses and chariots had surrounded the city. “Oh no, my lord! What shall we do?” the servant asked.
16 “Don’t be afraid,” the prophet answered. “Those who are with us are more than those who are with them.”
17 And Elisha prayed, “Open his eyes, Lord, so that he may see.” Then the Lord opened the servant’s eyes, and he looked and saw the hills full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha.
18 As the enemy came down toward him, Elisha prayed to the Lord, “Strike this army with blindness.” So he struck them with blindness, as Elisha had asked.
19 Elisha told them, “This is not the road and this is not the city. Follow me, and I will lead you to the man you are looking for.” And he led them to Samaria.
20 After they entered the city, Elisha said, “Lord, open the eyes of these men so they can see.” Then the Lord opened their eyes and they looked, and there they were, inside Samaria.
21 When the king of Israel saw them, he asked Elisha, “Shall I kill them, my father? Shall I kill them?”
22 “Do not kill them,” he answered. “Would you kill those you have captured with your own sword or bow? Set food and water before them so that they may eat and drink and then go back to their master.” 23 So he prepared a great feast for them, and after they had finished eating and drinking, he sent them away, and they returned to their master. So the bands from Aram stopped raiding Israel’s territory.


There's a pattern to be detected here, I think. Soldiers in the employ of an enemy power came to cause trouble, but they were struck blind. Then they were lead by a prophet of God to the very heart of the stronghold of their enemy, and it was revealed to them. What must that moment have been like? An "oh, crap" moment for the ages. The giddy king wants to kill them all, but the prophet chides him, and the king listens, and prepares a table for them in the presence of their enemies.

The conversation between the soldiers and their king isn't recorded, but I'd love to have been a fly on the wall. "So, those people you sent us to capture? Well, they captured us, then marched us to their capital..." at which point the king says, "Then how are you still here?" "That's the thing, boss. They took us to Golden Corral, on steak and shrimp night, and sent us home."

Isn't this the gospel in microcosm? We, enthralled to the prince of the power of the air, are lead, in our blindness, to a feast, and cease our hostility from then on?

Jesus is everywhere in the OT. It's really fun to discover him in places you didn't expect.





Saturday, June 06, 2015

Musings from the "Notes" folder on my Phone

The more I learn about the moving parts that make up our souls, the more I discover that I don't know. We're all singularities, from which no light escapes. Who could plumb our depths but the one who fashioned us, and plunged headlong into Sheol to get us back?

Someone who could see us for who we really are, and know us better than we can know ourselves, and see our awful words and thoughts and actions stretched out on a noxious tapestry, and still suffer hideously so that he could destroy sin and death without destroying us, has to be a being of pure love.





Tuesday, May 05, 2015

Be a Life Person

Are you a “life” person?

Everyone remembers being in high school and taking a subject they just didn't get. whether it was math, science, history, or English, you hit a wall every single time. at my high school, at least, and maybe yours, too, there arose a convenient fiction to serve as an explanation: some people are just “math people.” they walked into Algebra II and everything clicked. the clouds parted, the angels sang, x was found and graphs were plotted like nobody’s business- meanwhile, the rest of us dully wandered in problem purgatory, burdened with a sinking feeling that our futures rested on a skill that some of us had and some of us didn't.

Others, like me, were history and English people. We made similes our servants, mastered our metaphors, and panned for themes and motifs in everything: books, commercials, and cereal boxes. No text was too obscure; no historical date too meaningless- while all the “math people,” starving for something concrete and more frustrated each day, finally asked: “why are we reading so much into this?! The author didn’t mean all that, or she would have just said it!” or “Who cares who invaded who? It was a thousand years ago!”

Initially, when we heard that magic phrase- “oh, she’s just a math person”- it was a great relief. We weren’t stupid, or lazy, or rebellious- we had just lost an arbitrary genetic lottery that had given some of us special powers and left the rest to fend for themselves. Our anger shifted to the authorities. “Why are ‘they’ making math people do history? Can’t ‘they’ see that ‘they’re’ wasting everyone’s time?”

Human nature is to set up categories, and decide who’s ‘in’ and who’s ‘out.’ Shrinks call it “Heuristics-” google it if you have an hour to kill- and it’s a powerful force. Sometimes this is based on natural abilities, or skin color, or whatever ‘beauty’ happens to mean this decade, but whatever the arbitrary criterion, it shifts responsibility from people, who make choices, to groups, systems, and the dreaded “they.”

Winning a genetic lottery is nice, as is being born in certain places into certain circumstances. But the temptation to throw in the towel and give in to bitterness because “they” are out to get us- no matter who “they” are- must be resisted with all of our might.

Which of us, when we were first born, were “word” people? We bubbled and gurgled and sputtered for months before we even managed syllables, much less words. But now we speak English, which is among the most difficult languages to learn. Or which of us were “walking” people? Toddlers didn’t earn their name for being steady on their feet. But now most of us hop, skip, and jump without a second thought. Eating, drinking, bathing- I could go on. But the point is that every one of us already has a rather impressive track record of overcoming obstacles and mastering difficult tasks, simply by remaining alive.

I wasn't born yet when President Kennedy made his great speech announcing the program to put a man on the moon, but thanks to the internet I got to hear something incredible: “We choose to go to the moon in this decade, and do the other things not because they are easy, but because they are hard.”

So to everyone who’s not a ‘health’ person, or a ‘book’ person, or a ‘rich’ person, or a ‘leadership’ person, or a ‘Jesus’ person, I say be a ‘life’ person. Do things not because they are easy, but because they are hard. Remember all the hard things you've already done, and let those memories give you strength. “Do not ask what the world needs,” writes O.S. Marsden. “Ask what makes you come alive, and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”

Saturday, March 07, 2015

Reflections on Philosophy

Philosophers, like most college students, spend a lot of time contemplating busts, but unlike most college students, the busts they contemplate are marble, and resemble old men.

A philosopher is someone whose brain stays in all-time 4-wheel drive. They make a lot of noise on the highway, but they can pull you out if you’re stuck in the mud.

-You’re probably a philosopher if you can’t stop thinking about why you think stuff. Your core assumptions about the world and how it works are constantly under scrutiny, none more withering than your own, and you live with the deep-seated arrogance of only believing things that really make sense and also the constant paranoia that comes from your intimate knowledge of how fragile anyone’s grasp on reality really is. You’ve seen firsthand a strong foundation crumble, and you’ve seen a supple twig break- so you’re either humble before the abyss of ignorance over which every human being is suspended and the vast gulf between us and truth, or you’re whistling in the graveyard, tooting your own horn to stave off the silence- or worse, the music- of a mysterious universe. It’s probably a little of both.

J.D. Salinger wrote that “The worst thing that being an artist could do to you would be that it would make you slightly unhappy constantly.” He might have been talking about philosophers, as well.
Philosophy is like a hydroelectric dam. Ideas flow in, and are transformed by complex and powerful machinery into usable energy. When the river runs dry, the generators fall silent. When it overflows, they do the best they can to contain and process the flow, worrying all the while that the dam will break.
Philosophers are like 911 operators or ER nurses coming off a long and difficult shift. After having been confronted face to face with the fragility, agony and ecstasy of the human experience, they stumble into a diner to eat a quick meal before they go home to crash, and all around them are people just going about their lives, oblivious to the life-and-death struggles going on all around them. They want to grab the people by the shoulders and shake them. “Don’t you see? Aren’t you afraid that there might not be any meaning to our lives? Don’t you realize that we might not be free at all? Haven’t you been thinking?”
Sharing ideas is a way to exercise courage. The risk you take is that your ideas will be rejected, either because they don’t make sense, challenge people’s assumptions and make them uncomfortable, or both.


Sunday, February 22, 2015

Why Theology Matters

J.S. Mill wrote at the end of the 19th century that, since religious claims cannot be empirically verified, the best public policy option is one of agnosticism and pluralism in public, with piety and conviction being relegated to private life. This has become the prevailing notion in contemporary America.

Alongside Mill's idea has arisen the postmodern idea that truth is relative, and that truth claims are power plays meant to subjugate people. Throughout history, people who claim to know the truth tend to follow Al Capone's famous maxim: "you can get more with a kind word and a gun than you can with just a kind word." Theology, then, on a postmodern account, is just a power play, designed to give an elite class privileged status, or else merely an exposition of one's subjective ideas.


Standing over against this view is the orthodox Christian belief that Truth exists, is knowable, and is communicable. If Truth exists, and if God exists, then Theology is a category of non-fiction; that is, it describes, and attempts to describe accurately, something that actually exists. 


Suppose you were writing a travel guide to a fantasy world. If the world was a product of your own imagination, then by definition whatever you said about it would be true. But if you're describing an actual place, like London, then your descriptions of it are either true or false. The statement "Piccadilly square is painted green" either accurately described Piccadilly square or it doesn't. 


But now suppose that there are no boats capable of bearing us across the Atlantic and so nobody we know has ever been to London. Who can tell us what it's like? 


The book of Job, the earliest book of the Bible, records what mankind has been wondering about God ever since the beginning:


"If only I knew where to find him;

if only I could go to his dwelling!"

"If only there were someone to mediate between us,

someone to bring us together..."


But the gospel of John tell us that even though no one can travel to where God is, there is One who came to tell us everything we need to know:

"No one has ever seen God, but the one and only Son, who is himself God and is in closest relationship with the Father, has made him known."

"No one has seen the Father except the one who is from God; only he has seen the Father."

And in 1 John it all comes together:

"Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God...this is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins...no one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us.

This is how we know that we live in him and he in us: He has given us of his Spirit. And we have seen and testify that the Father has sent his Son to be the Savior of the world. If anyone acknowledges that Jesus is the Son of God, God lives in them and they in God. And so we know and rely on the love God has for us.
God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them." (1 John 4:7-16) 

Jesus claims to bring a firsthand account of London. Should we believe his claims? What should we make of them if we do?

That's Theology, the Queen of the Sciences. And if you've ever caught yourself wondering, "What's the point?" then nothing could be more relevant, or more timely. 

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

Getting with the Program

Socrates is on the record as having asserted that "the unexamined life is not worth living." One of the reasons for this is that unrealistic ideas can often survive for far too long if they remain insulated from reality. Sometimes the kindest thing we can do for ourselves and the people around us is to reveal to them, gently, the unrealistic nature of their desires. 

When I was a teenager, I wanted nothing more than to drive a Mazda Miata when I got my license. I was on the soccer team and fairly athletic, but I was also 6'1" and 250 lbs, and the Miata, to put it kindly, was not designed with those particular dimensions in mind.  When my dad commented that he wasn't sure it would be big enough, I didn't listen, and after months of pining away over the smooth lines, canvas convertible top, and racing stripe, he finally took me to the Mazda dealership. The salesman didn't do as well as my dad at hiding his good-natured incredulity, and when I finally climbed in, everything became clear. 

My legs were too long to work the pedals (and I couldn't yet drive a manual, to boot), my shoulders were too broad for me to buckle the seat belt, and when I tried to get out, I suddenly understood why ejector seats in airplanes were rocket powered. We almost needed the jaws of life. Needless to say, my dreams had to adjust to reality. There was a period of mourning, as there always is, but in the end I wound up in a Jeep- which, as any Jeep owner will confirm, is always a good decision. 

So what does old Socrates have to do with any of that, you ask? Well, part of examining your life is assessing how realistic your goals are, certainly. Big dudes and tiny cars don't mix. But how do we keep ourselves from despair when a dearly held dream is dashed by the cold smack of reality?

We've all had it happen, and some of us fare better than others. But Christian believers have resources available to them that keep them from giving up hope. Ephesians 2:10 reads: "For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do." 

That's an incredible statement. It means that if we'll submit ourselves and 'get with the program', we become part, not only of a cosmic dance that steps through the centuries and connects us to countless generations of believers, but of the consummation of our own story. 

Ask yourself: why would the One who loves you enough to die for you, who formed your innermost being and knit you together in the depths of the earth, make your life's work something with which you are incompatible, or, what's worse, something you hate? Sure, maybe you're stuck for the moment in something lousy, but it's changing you, in ways you'll only recognize much later, into a creature who is better able to reflect the glory of your Creator. Philippians 2:13-16 reads: 

...for it is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill his good purpose. Do everything without grumbling or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, “children of God without fault in a warped and crooked generation.”Then you will shine among them like stars in the sky as you hold firmly to the word of life.

Whenever you feel the sting of defeat; whenever the sharp crack of a door slamming shut is ringing in your ears- remember the words of Moses in the desert, the horsemen of Pharaoh in hot pursuit: 

"The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still."


The same spirit that led the heroes of old will lead us, too, and will use the circumstances of our lives, even wicked betrayals and pitiful disasters, to mold us into what we were always meant to be.

"The one who calls you is faithful, and he will do it..." for "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever."




Monday, January 26, 2015

What Should I Read?

We've all heard that "you are what you eat," and Jefferson Airplane reminds us to "remember what the dormouse said: feed your head." 

I've heard it said that, in five years' time, a person will be just the same as they are now, except for the people they meet and the books they read. If that's true, then what you feed your head should be chosen with some care, since reading has a direct effect on the way we think, much as food has both an immediate and a long-term impact on the way our bodies feel and function. We find in the book of Proverbs that "as [a man] thinketh in his heart, so is he," and Marcus Aurelius reports in his Meditations that “The mind will be like it’s habitual thoughts; for the soul becomes dyed with the color of your thoughts.” So, if one's reading choices will leave an imprint on one's very soul, then it's important to choose wisely. But how?

Matsuo Basho, a 17th century Japanese poet, gives the following advice: "Do not follow in the footsteps of the old masters. [Rather,] seek what they sought." In other words, we should choose what we read based on what it is that we seek. Want to be knowledgeable in your field? seek out the literature. Want to improve your skills? Seek out books about the things you want to master. You'll get better by the act of adding to your knowledge and contending with a different perspective.

But it goes deeper than that, I think. To know what we seek is one thing, but what is it that we ought to seek? St. Thomas Aquinas, the great Catholic theologian, taught that “Three things are necessary for the salvation of man: to know what he ought to believe; to know what he ought to desire; and to know what he ought to do.” Leave the salvation piece aside for the moment, and notice the three areas of importance: beliefs, desires, and actions. All three shape who we are, and are tremendously important in every area of life, so they can guide our search for what to read.

I'm suggesting here that we allow what we believe, what we want, and what we do determine our reading choices, but the joy of reading is that it becomes a sort of precipitation cycle, in which what you read influences what you think, and that color dyes the soul. 

It's also very important to bear in mind that the soul is nurtured by Truth, Beauty, and Goodness, and, consequently, will begin to wither without them. Be intentional about seeking out what is true, beautiful, and good, and you'll be surprised how much vitality it can add to not only your inner landscape but also to your life and the living of it. 

So, how do we choose what to read?

1. Choose with great care, for you're choosing what stains your soul

2. Choose to expand your knowledge, hone your desires, and empower your actions

3. Actively seek out the true, the good, and the beautiful


I've read some good ones lately. Find my Goodreads profile here.

Sunday, January 18, 2015

Book Review: "Can I Know God?" and Other Sermons

"Can I Know God?" and Other Sermons

W.E. Sangster was, I gather, a Methodist minister in Britain with a great deal of homiletical skill, having written several volumes on the subject. There were three things I enjoyed about his book of sermons. 

First, I like reading conservative mainliners. Their liturgy and their traditions give them a sense of grandeur- I think John Piper would call it "earnestness"- that evangelicals often lack, the latter having been brought up in brass and pastels and singing Hillsong and the Newsboys since grade school. That grandeur, combined with a respect for the authority of scripture, is a powerful duo, and can result in some very summoning rhetoric.

Second, I like reading the work of seasoned pastors. D.A. Carson advises that any scholar spend at least some time on the 'front lines' of gospel ministry, and among the reasons why is this: unhelpful or overly lofty theological reasoning doesn't survive contact with a working class congregation for very long, and what remains after the dross is burnt off is good, nourishing broth. 

The English is the British English of the mid-20th century, and is mostly better than ours today, but some allusions and examples sailed right over this American's head. This isn't a book of apologetics, but simple, frank appeals are made for people to come and see what all the fuss about Christ is about for themselves, and that's a good thing. 

Third, the sermons were the perfect length for reading before bed- longer than a one-page devotional, but not so long that there's no hope of finishing before lights out.