Dead Men's Voices

A Clearer Picture

2009-11-10T22:09:00.003-07:00

Reflective images in other's pools
Do not the true form know.
Stay your course and person keep;
When waters still with time,
They a clearer picture show.

--Deanna McIntyre

These are the words of my mother, and, no, she is not dead, as are most I quote. Our life, our worth, our meaning, our purpose are not hidden in the opinions of men. They are hidden and preserved in Christ. Now we see through a glass dimly, or reflective waters if you will. Soon, we shall behold the face of Christ and be changed to be like Him. Then, and only then, will the question "Why?" finally be answered utterly and completely. Meaning will course through our souls as blood once coursed through our veins. The longing in our spirit will be fulfilled. We will find what we have been looking for. We will be at peace.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Underestimating Your Adversary

2009-10-08T19:50:00.004-06:00

"There is a God."

--Anthony Flew

I recently read Dr. Flew's book, entitled as the quote above. To be clear, Flew is not a Christian. He does not claim to be. He is a sort of deist, I suppose, or, perhaps, a theistic agnostic. The book is not so much a series of compelling arguments for the existence of a supreme Mind, but more of an autobiography of his "conversion." It recounts the circumstances and basic ideas that caused him to change his mind. Many in the atheist camp are quite upset at this apostasy, although I really do not understand why. The fact that Dr. Flew is a theist does not, in and of itself, mean anything in reference to the merits of the debate or the truth of the matter of theism. One could just as easily produce former theists that have defected the ranks of the faithful. However, I think the reaction reveals a fundamental problem at the heart of the current debate, which is a lack of respect on the part of the atheists for their theist counterparts, a lack of respect that is, from my experience, not often reciprocated. When you read "new atheists," you get the impression that believing in a Supreme Mind or Being is like believing in unicorns, fairies, and pixie dust. Only a complete dolt could be a theist, after all. This is so manifestly absurd it is nothing more than annoying. I am no prophet, but I think this prejudicial, arrogant attitude will be the ultimate downfall of the "new atheist" movement. The God question will not go away. It never will. There will always be good arguments for theism which will be held by extremely intelligent and accomplished scholars. The atheists may argue that they do not find these arguments compelling, but their condescending dismissal of theism and their belligerent antipathy toward their theist colleagues simply will not stand the test of time. Underestimating your adversary is a fundamental strategic and tactical error that rarely produces the results desired. Of course, as a minister/theologian, I run into this often. Someone will claim that I may as well believe in Santa Clause. This is understandable when it is uttered by an ignorant amateur who has not even begun to consider the profound philosophical questions he claims to have resolved. It is inexcusable in academia or among thoughtful people.

I Wish They Were Self-Evident

2009-07-07T16:06:00.002-06:00

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. — That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, — That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.

--From The Declaration of Independence

Along with many Americans, I love the Declaration of Independence. However, I must admit, and have come to discover only recently, that there is a fundamental flaw in the crucial sentence quoted above. The truths, namely, the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, the nature of governmental power as being derived from the consent of the governed, and the right of revolution are, alas, not self-evident. It almost sounds treasonous to say that, but I think if we are honest with ourselves, we must admit the truth. A self-evident proposition is one which needs no additional evidence to support its factuality. For instance, the statement 2 + 2 = 4 is self-evident. This does not mean that is it obvious. The statement may appear obvious, it may even be obvious, but not all self-evident statements are obvious. A complex mathematical equation, if true and properly executed, is self-evident, but it is by no means obvious or easily understood, especially to one mathematically challenged, such as myself. We must ask ourselves, is it really self-evident that men are created with specific rights? Is it really self-evident that governments derive their power from the consent of the governed? Is it really self- evident that the people have a right to violent revolt when governments become destructive to the stated ends? Do those who disagree, and there are many, have some sort of serious malfunction in their grasp of logic and reality? Of course not. Obviously, many of the British did not see all of these things as self-evident in the least, yet I suspect no one would consider them a rag tag lot of intellectual dolts. The fact is these propositions are not self-evident. They are reasonable propositions based on arguments from other propositions, entailing such notions as the existence of a personal Creator, the fundamental goodness of that Creator, the willingness of that Creator to endow His rational, created beings with definable rights, the greater ontological status of the divinely created individual over the artificial, humanly created, collective institution, and many others. One could argue that all, most, many, or some of these notions are self-evident, but, even if so, the self-evidential nature is not necessarily commuted to derived deductions. The fact is the Declaration propositions are the product of a long, historical development of political science, with direct, profound, and necessary influence from certain religious and philosophical presuppositions and assertions. Interestingly, many do not know that the term “self-evident” was not what Jefferson originally penned. Originally, he claimed that such rights were “sacred and undeniable.” In my humble opinion, the young American Congress should have stuck with the original. The propositions are not self-evident, but they are sacred, for they are derived from the principles of true religion. They are undeniable, not because they are self-evident, but because they are based on higher principles of natural law, divine revelation, and even pragmatic desires, which cannot be denied without wreaking havoc within the human condition. Now, my patient reader may be beginning to wonder where I am going with this, that is, what is my point. Well, I am glad you asked. My point is not to deny the objective existence of the rights in question, for I do believe them to be sacred and undeniable. My point is to remind us that our ideals do not stand in a theological and philosophical vacuum. One does not have to hold to any specific theological or philosophical principles, at least not directly, to realize that 2 + 2 = 4. However, one does have to hold to certain theological, philosophical, and even anthropological principles to believe in such a thing as unalienable human rights. I wish such rights were self-evident, for then it would be highly unlikely that they would be trampled upon by even remotely reasonable people. But, alas, it is not so simple and easy. If the supporting principles are eroded, the ideals, the rights, will erode as well. If the intellectual underpinnings and buttresses are removed, the ideals will fall like a building without a foundation. Many today fancy that they can throw out what they perceive to be the bathwater and keep the baby. Unfortunately for them, the analogy does not hold, for the principles they would eschew are not to our American ideals as used bathwater is to a clean baby. The principles are to our American ideals as the womb is to the fetus.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Die Religion Die?

2009-05-22T16:30:00.002-06:00

I'll testify!
It’s time to see religion die!
The truth can’t lie!
It’s time to see religion die!
Who cares? Who's right?
It’s time to see religion die!
I'll crush the fight!
It’s time to see religion die!

--Brian "Head" Welch from the song "Die Religion Die"

But to each one of us grace was given according to the measure of Christ’s gift. Therefore He says:

“ When He ascended on high,
He led captivity captive,
And gave gifts to men.”

(Now this, “He ascended”—what does it mean but that He also first descended into the lower parts of the earth? He who descended is also the One who ascended far above all the heavens, that He might fill all things.)

And He Himself gave some to be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, and some pastors and teachers, for the equipping of the saints for the work of ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ, till we all come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to a perfect man, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ; that we should no longer be children, tossed to and fro and carried about with every wind of doctrine, by the trickery of men, in the cunning craftiness of deceitful plotting, but, speaking the truth in love, may grow up in all things into Him who is the head—Christ— from whom the whole body, joined and knit together by what every joint supplies, according to the effective working by which every part does its share, causes growth of the body for the edifying of itself in love.

--St. Paul (Ephesians 4:7-16)

The expressly ecclesiological passage of Scripture quoted above and the excerpt from Brian Welch's rather angry song seem to clash violently. Brian "Head" Welch is a former member of the rock band Korn who recently converted to Christianity. Now, I certainly do not call into question the validity of his conversion, for it is not my place to judge his experience and his status in the eyes of God. I consider him a brother in Christ, as long as he maintains his profession of faith. Nevertheless, I cannot help but conclude that he is woefully immature, spiritually speaking. One may object that he is simply condemning hypocrisy, which may be true. Who would argue with that? In fact, I am willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and admit that this is probably his intention. However, the glaringly obvious problem is "hypocrisy" and "religion" are not synonymous terms. Religion is a word that, when applied to Christianity, describes its organized nature. The Scriptures clearly and unambiguously reveal that Christ came to establish an organized religion, complete with structure, identified, official leadership, meaning, vision, and purpose. We often hear specious, pseudo-pious pronouncements in our culture such as, "I hate religion. I just love Jesus." Unfortunately for those who adhere to this confession, whatever their intentions, they just cannot have it both ways. To hate "religion" or organized Christianity is to hate the Body of Christ. It is to hate the actual fellowship of brothers and sisters in Christ while claiming to love the God whose image they bear, while claiming to love some sort of invisible ideal. The same God who commands us to love Him and our neighbor (Matthew 22:37-40) also commands us not to forsake the assembly of the saints (Hebrews 10:25). The same Christ all Christians claim to love identifies Himself so intimately with His organized church that it is referred to as His bride. Indeed, as His body, it contains His members, His people, His children, His servants, His sheep, His friends, His beloved. To call for the death of organized Christianity is to call for the death of Christianity itself, at least the kind of Christianity founded on the apostles and prophets. It is to issue a death warrant for the bride of the King of kings, and to call for her head on a platter. There will always be pretending impostors who claim to be children of the bride, among which are hypocrisy, self righteousness, petty moralism, and downright stupidity. If we want to place them before the firing squad, so be it. But, let us set our sites carefully, lest we take aim at the mother herself.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

The Sight of the Martyr

2009-05-12T16:10:00.001-06:00

For though I am alive as I write to you, still my real desire is to die. My love of this life has been crucified, and there is no yearning in me for any earthly thing. Rather within me is the living water which says deep inside me: "Come to the Father." I no longer take pleasure in perishable food or in the delights of this world I want only God's bread, which is the flesh of Jesus Christ, formed from the seed of David, and for drink I crave his blood, which is love that cannot perish.

--St. Ignatius of Antioch

When one begins to understand Christianity, truly to understand it, one is awestruck by the theme of love that permeates every aspect of its teaching and way of life. This theme of love is too often abused and classified by well meaning theologians as some sort of spineless, unmanly, ungodly, tolerant acquiescence to the way of destruction and lies. This turns our religion into little more than a 60's hippy song, and we start to wonder if it the true prophet of the faith should be John Lennon rather than Jesus Christ. In fact, the love which permeates Christianity is a love of truth, a love of righteousness, a love, in short, of God. This love seems purest in the heart of the martyr. Of course, there is nothing new or unique about one prepared to die for one's religion. In fact, we see horrible examples of this disposition everyday on the news, as fanatical terrorists enter their eternal state after leaving death and destruction in their wake. Eastern mystics will literally starve themselves to death as they seek nothingness, emptiness, and a complete loss of self. Yet, the Christian martyr is far different. The Christian martyr seeks not celestial virgins, obliteration of consciousness, or any such thing. He seeks love, divine love, a love that, while present in the state of the flesh, is somehow obscured and hidden by earthly desires. When once that fundamental, primary, and primal desire for survival is surrendered, the martyr often sees in full that which we only see in part. He attains to a state that is for us a dream. Calling to mind the experience of St. Stephen, it is as if their faith has already become sight.

Ants Without a Queen

2009-04-06T16:19:00.003-06:00

Go to the ant, you sluggard!
Consider her ways and be wise,
Which, having no captain,
Overseer or ruler,
Provides her supplies in the summer,
And gathers her food in the harvest.

--Proverbs 6:6-8

I have always been morbidly fascinated by ants. I had a number of Ant Farms when I was a child. My second eldest son recently acquired one for his birthday, and it probably brings more joy to his father than it does to him. They slave away above the refrigerator, day by day, digging tunnels, constantly on the move, always diligent, and rarely resting. Of course, in the wild, the ant's sole purpose is to ensure the survival and expansion of the colony. The life of the collective is the end and the means to the end. Though the purpose is self-contained, cyclical, and temporal, there is a certain charm to it. Moreover, their greater purpose is to glorify God's incomprehensible attention to detail and the intricacies of His profound wisdom. Now, the captured ant in the Ant Farm is something else entirely. There is no queen, no propagation of the species, no means of continued survival. These ants will dig their tunnels and die. There is no purpose, it is all utterly futile, yet, as we all know, ants are too stupid to realize this. You never see one of these little gals throw up their antennae, say "What is the point...the horror, the HORROR!" and remove their head from their thorax with their sharp mandibles. After all, if I were one of them, that is what I would do. In my rather warped mind, with my tongue in my cheek, I could not help but draw an analogy between these poor creatures and the modern nihilist. Within their philosophical framework, the nihilist is like a captured ant with no queen, no objective ideal. They slave away through life in their artificial, self-created, unnatural prison, they dig their tunnels, as it were, yet there is no point, no meaning, no purpose. Of course, with an ant, it is humorous and charming. With a human, it is sad and tragic, for we are creatures who are painfully able to comprehend futility and the horror of the absence of meaning. Thus, though I may wonder why the ant does not just end it all, I wonder more about the nihilist. Thank God for intellectual inconsistency, I suppose, for it is a most merciful gift to the unbeliever.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Inconvenient Ideals

2009-02-28T20:09:00.003-07:00

"In times like these, it helps to recall that there have always been times like these.”

-- Paul Harvey

I was saddened to hear that Paul Harvey died today. I have often enjoyed his commentary and his wit. After I heard, I searched for a quote on which to springboard a post and stumbled upon this gem. Though obvious, it is said as only Mr. Harvey could say it.

We would do well to remember this simple truth as we continue to see our economic system unravel. It is not the first time, neither will it be the last time that such a thing has occurred. Although I am as concerned as anyone else about the economics, especially families surviving layoffs and retirees watching their IRAs dwindle to nothing, I am far more concerned about something that took me, I must admit, completely by surprise. Those of us who indulge in philosophical musing, and, perhaps naively, marry our musings to current events, often speak of American pragmatism. However, over the past few months, it has finally dawned upon my rather slow mind that pragmatism is the heart and soul of our culture. It comes as naturally to the American as barking does to a dog. When hard times befall us, we are willing to drop our ideals and ideology faster than a hot coal. "We have to do something", we are told, even if doing "something" means flushing our national heritage as despised refuse. We are told this is not a time for ideals, it is a time for solutions. Again, to the American, this sounds patently obvious, almost axiomatic. Yet, as we slow down, step back, and take a deep breath, I wonder how the integrity of a nation can be preserved if ideals are not upheld during difficult circumstances. After all, free speech, for instance, must be protected only when the speech in question is not to our liking. Popular speech needs no protection. Subversive speech does. Or, as another example, the principle of the free exercise of religion can only be considered a moral, political ideal if it applies to religious practices which cause us a bit of angst. Tame, polite religion and the religion of the majority need no protection. This is likewise true of our idealistic heritage of small, extremely limited government. It is when times are tough, when it looks like we need a savior, when the baser part of our nature calls for the state to come to our rescue, that we must hold our ground, shod our feet, and withstand the onslaughts of misfortune. That is simply the natural cost of liberty. If we are going to be a free people, then we must be willing to be a people that will weather storms by our faith, our ingenuity, our spirit, and our resolve. If we, as a people, run to the shelter of the state, we may be a bit warmer and drier, for a time, but we will all be lesser men for it. Many years ago, a man named Esau sold his divine inheritance for a pot of porridge. He was hungry after all. What good would a blessing do to fill his stomach? Blessings are just words, just ideas, they don't solve any real problems. Of course, what he didn't bother to understand was the "useless" blessing was the most precious spiritual treasure of the ancient world. For all time, he is remembered in Judaism and Christianity for his profoundly ignorant foolishness. I cannot help but wonder if Esau was really an American born in the wrong century and the wrong continent.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Scribbling on a Cell Wall

2009-02-09T17:50:00.000-07:00

A man can no more diminish God's glory by refusing to worship Him than a lunatic can put out the sun by scribbling the word, 'darkness' on the walls of his cell.

-- C.S. Lewis

One of the hardest lessons to learn in life is that we are not the center of reality. We cannot define the terms. We cannot define the limits. We cannot shape things as we see fit. The determination of that which is true and that which is false has nothing whatsoever to do with our subjective opinion. We fancy ourselves judges of the divine, islands unto ourselves, captains of our own destiny. Yet, in reality, we will stand before the throne of God and give an account of ourselves to Him. He will judge us in accordance with His good pleasure and deal with us as He sees fit. Our opinions will mean nothing. Our objections will mean nothing. Though many will go into eternity weeping and gnashing their teeth in rebellion against the Divine, it will mean nothing. Their situation will not change, for all are under the complete, total control of the Living God. Like a man thrown into the sea with an anvil securely tied to his feet, so will many follow the will of God to their destruction. In the end, we will all glorify God. If we build our house upon the rock that is Christ, we will glorify the mercy of God, for our foundation is solid and will withstand the storm of light. If we do not, we will glorify the justice of God, for the rock that is Christ will crush our house to powder. Most think they can choose an alternative of their own making. That is, most think they can live independently of God, forging their own eternal path. Such is folly and a chasing after the wind. Whatever man may imagine in his heart, there is no eternal Plan C. We can scribble nonsense on the wall of our cells for centuries on end, but in the cell, we will remain. Many will complain that God is, therefore, harsh. He is not harsh. He is true. He is immutable. He is to the rebellious as reality is to the insane.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

The Power of an Idea

2009-01-09T21:38:00.001-07:00

Inspired by the return to the blogosphere of a friend of mine, and fellow minister, over at Wheat and Chaff, I have returned to Dead Men's Voices. I apologize for my absence.

Neither man or nation can exist without a sublime idea.

-Fyodor Dostoevsky

Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God.

-Saint Paul (Romans 10:17)

The quote from Dostoevsky seems intuitively obvious to the reflective mind. However, I often wonder how many people actually have a sublime idea by which they live their lives, a sublime idea that allows them to transcend the mundane and soar like a falcon on the winds of truth. But many would doubt the practicality of ideas and prefer to find meaning in the things of the world, the material that makes up the physical universe. Pragmatism, though an ideal itself, has, ironically, convinced many modern men that the realm of the ideal is useless at best, if not utterly illusive and deceptive. Unfortunately, the church is not exempt from this philosophy. In fact, it is arguable that many members of the modern church, at least in the more affluent western nations are the most thorough pragmatists. After all, the complete unbeliever falls back on pragmatism by default, for if reality is bound within the confines of nature and the material, it would make perfect sense to seek that which works in the material world, to foster that which allows one to manipulate material by material, thereby gaining the materialistic end desired. If there is nothing eternal, at least nothing eternal that has anything to do with the temporal life of man, then let us eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die. In the church, however, pragmatism takes on a different persona, a nature much more destructive and contrary to the supposed end desired. Admittedly, it baffles the mind how one can presume to grasp the eternal by means of the pragmatic, how one can apprehend God by the manipulation of matter. One is forced to ask the question: How do we apprehend God? Do we apprehend Him by sight? I would hope not. If one did, I would call into question his sanity. Do we apprehend Him by experience? Again, I hope not, for if we do we more likely worship a figment of our own imagination, a god of our own making, a god which works in accordance with our earthly agenda. The Holy Scriptures reveal that we apprehend God by faith. They also reveal that faith comes not by sight, not by experience, but by hearing, and that by the Word of God. Thus, in essence, I ask again, how do we apprehend God? Yes, I think the light is dawning upon your mind.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Agnus Dei

2007-08-03T20:18:00.000-06:00

O Lamb of God that takest away the sins of the world,
Have mercy upon us.
O Lamb of God that takest away the sins of the world,
Have mercy upon us.
O Lamb of God that takest away the sins of the world,
Grant us Thy peace.

--The Agnus Dei

Dona Nobis Pacem. There probably is no simpler or more beautiful prayer in all the world. In the first two verses, we beat our breasts in shame. In the last verse, we raise our eyes to heaven with joyful anticipation. Without your mercy, O Lord, I am lost. Without your peace, O Lord, I am broken. This ancient prayer represents Christianity in its basic form. It is the prayer of sinners, yet the prayer of the redeemed. It is the prayer of the brokenhearted, yet the prayer of those made whole. It is the prayer of those once dead in trespasses and sin, yet the prayer of eternal life. Have mercy, O Lamb of God, have mercy, and grant us your everlasting peace. If these were the last words to pass my lips of clay, I would die safely and content in the love of Christ.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Changing Wine Into Water

2007-06-14T20:40:00.000-06:00

For our times are not satisfied with faith and not even with the miracle of changing water into wine--they "go right on," changing wine into water.

--Soren Kierkegaard

There is a lot of folly in Kierkegaard's writings. However, there are also many nuggets of truth if one has eyes to see. The times have really not changed as much as we often think. As it was in Kierkegaard's time, the Gospel is offensive. Its call to radical commitment is unseemly. Its talk of heaven and hell is embarrassing. Its references to blood sacrifices, divine wrath, absolute exclusivity, and so many more "barbaric" notions are unacceptable to the modern or postmodern palate. For all of our vaunted interest in the supernatural, we really do not like it when we see it, when it confronts us, when it calls us to action. We prefer a natural religion, one which fits nicely and conveniently into our mental categories, one which we can meld into our daily exercise routine, one which improves our self image, one which causes us to feel warm and cozy, one which leaves us lethargically and comfortably in our sin and materialistic, pathetic groping for a meaning that mysteriously, inevitably, incessantly alludes us. We don't want the message from heaven to be broadcast upon the earth. We would much prefer to bind heaven in words of human folly. We want the bland, the benign, the non-intrusive, the innocuous. Yet, it is that message from heaven, that truth, which gives us life, that truth which is the lifeblood of our spiritual nature, causing us to rise above the mundane circumstances around us and behold the brightness of divine glory. If we would but once submit and partake of that cup, that heavenly wine, we would taste of enlightenment, freedom, and peace. We would drink the jars to the dregs.

Ah, but there is a catch. Once this wine is tasted, nothing in this world will satisfy again. Once tasted, the bland waters of worldly pleasures, the lusts of the eye, and the pride of life, will no longer quench our thirst, for we live as if suspended between two worlds. Once eternity is implanted in the soul, it leaves a longing in the heart, an aching of the soul, that will not be fulfilled until we behold the face of Christ. So, drink the cup of the grace of Christ in a hunger and thirst for righteousness, partake of the draught of life, receive its eternal blessings, but be forewarned--it has a bite to it.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Boyish Boundaries

2007-05-13T15:11:00.000-06:00

Of course what we have a right to expect of the American boy is that he shall turn out to be a good American man. Now, the chances are strong that he won't be much of a man unless he is a good deal of a boy. He must not be a coward or a weakling, a bully, a shirk, or a prig. He must work hard and play hard. He must be clean-minded and clean-lived, and able to hold his own under all circumstances and against all comers. It is only on these conditions that he will grow into the kind of American man of whom America can be really proud.

--Theodore Roosevelt

There is much talk these days about bullies and their supposed detrimental effect on the psyche into adulthood. It is a problem today, granted, but it is certainly not as if the problem is new. In fact, it has existed for time immemorial. I have always been relatively thin and small in stature, although, I pefer the term "medium-built." As a result, I was subject to some bullying as a child. I would take quite a bit of verbal abuse, but when it came to physical contact, there was no compromise. In years past, many bullies have felt the imprint of my knuckles upon their unexpecting cheeks and modestly spilled their blood as a result of my natural inclination toward self defense. Admittedly, I did not win every fight in which I engaged as a child, but I can fairly say that I never had to repeat one. One of my children recently had the unfortunate experience of being bullied. He asked what he should do if a bully called him names. I said he should ignore him. He then asked what he should do if a bully hits him. Through my mind flashed the faces of the forgotten bullies of forgotten days, the schoolyard confrontations, the satisfaction of a good throwing of the hands and the closure that it brings. I smiled with a boyish grin and said "Hit him back."

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

On Medicine that Does Not Heal

2007-04-22T18:47:00.000-06:00

It is true, brethren, as you well know, that in our day it is common for people to say, “Emphasizing doctrine so much only harms and hinders the kingdom of God, yes, even destroys it.” Many say, “Instead of disputing over doctrine so much, we should much rather be concerned with souls and with leading them to Christ.” But all who speak in this way do not really know what they are saying or what they are doing. As foolish as it would be to scold a farmer for being concerned about sowing good seed and to demand of him simply to be concerned about a good harvest, so foolish it is to scold those who are concerned first and foremost with the doctrine, and to demand of them that they should rather seek to rescue souls. For just as the farmer who wants a good crop must first of all be concerned about good seed, so the church must above all be concerned about right doctrine if it would save souls.

--C. F. W. Walther

I have never quite understood the antipathy for doctrine so prevalent in many modern, evangelical circles. The only way I can explain it is to assume that the "Gospel" in these circles is not about truth. It is solely about existential encounter. It is not about marriage or covenant. It is about a one night stand, a romance that is not meant to last, built upon sensations rather than solemn vows. I suppose I do not understand it, fundamentally, because I know what I need as a religious person, as a sinner, as an otherwise lost soul. I do not need gentle, pale Jesus, meek, and mild to make me feel better about my misery. I do not want to feel better about my misery. I want to be saved from it. I do not need a celestial buddy, and I most certainly do not need or wish to have a boyfriend to whom I can sing sentimental love songs. I need a loving Priest, a Savior, a Redeemer who is willing and able to save me from my sins, to save me from the judgment that surely awaits me, to intercede on my behalf before an all knowing and perfectly just God. I need a wise Prophet who deposits truth, tangible truth, communicable truth, in the context of a historical movement, which is the only vehicle able to protect this treasure over the shifting sands of time. I need a clarion call of reality, ringing like a pure note even amid the chaotic, ear piercing clanging that is worldly speculation. I need a manly, heroic, fell, and powerful King who is able to command respect and bring all things to their proper place and end, a King who is over all natural and moral law, while being Himself subject to nothing and no one. Anything less than this is a chasing after the wind. It may feel good, but, like romance, it is here today and gone tomorrow, a vapor.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

The Horizon Ever Before Us

2007-04-14T15:58:00.000-06:00

Education is a progressive discovery of our own ignorance.

--Will Durant

Will Durant is a wonderfully enjoyable philosophical character. I especially appreciate the humility he acquired toward the end of his life. Although he never regained his Christianity, he did assume a great deal of respect for it and repudiated his earlier hubris. Thus, I think he really believed what he is quoted as saying above. After all, it is true. The more we learn, the more we seek to buttress our own philosophy through erudition, the more we realize that there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our imaginations, more things than we can comprehend, more nuances and difficulties simultaneously narrowing and widening the path of enlightenment. The horizon is ever before us and never overtaken. We reach a cleft in the mountain for respite only to find that the summit is still out of reach. Perhaps this is why knowledge will pass away when the end of all things is upon us. Perhaps this is why perfection of knowledge is ultimately found not in books but in the face of the Living Christ.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

The Bells Are Silenced, Glory Be to God!

2007-04-08T18:11:00.000-06:00

I
Hear the sledges with the bells-
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In the icy air of night!
While the stars that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
II
Hear the mellow wedding bells,
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
From the molten-golden notes,
And an in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the Future! how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells,bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!
III
Hear the loud alarum bells-
Brazen bells!
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells!
In the startled ear of night
How they scream out their affright!
Too much horrified to speak,
They can only shriek, shriek,
Out of tune,
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire,
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire,
Leaping higher, higher, higher,
With a desperate desire,
And a resolute endeavor,
Now- now to sit or never,
By the side of the pale-faced moon.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of Despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the bosom of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear it fully knows,
By the twanging,
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows:
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling,
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells-
Of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells,bells,
Bells, bells, bells-
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!
IV
Hear the tolling of the bells-
Iron Bells!
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels!
In the silence of the night,
How we shiver with affright
At the melancholy menace of their tone!
For every sound that floats
From the rust within their throats
Is a groan.
And the people- ah, the people-
They that dwell up in the steeple,
All Alone
And who, tolling, tolling, tolling,
In that muffled monotone,
Feel a glory in so rolling
On the human heart a stone-
They are neither man nor woman-
They are neither brute nor human-
They are Ghouls:
And their king it is who tolls;
And he rolls, rolls, rolls,
Rolls
A paean from the bells!
And his merry bosom swells
With the paean of the bells!
And he dances, and he yells;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the paean of the bells-
Of the bells:
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the throbbing of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells-
To the sobbing of the bells;
Keeping time, time, time,
As he knells, knells, knells,
In a happy Runic rhyme,
To the rolling of the bells-
Of the bells, bells, bells:
To the tolling of the bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells-
Bells, bells, bells-
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells.

--Edgar Allan Poe, "The Bells"

Life is about time, if nothing else. There is a time for merriment and laughter. There is a time for great joy and expectation. There is a time for dread and alarm. There is a time for death and the end of all things. This is fact. Yet, though it is fact, it does not follow that we should like it. I, for one, hate death. It should not be and should never have been. When the apostle mockingly proclaims "Oh Death, where is thy sting? Oh Grave, where is thy victory?" my heart joins the derision and rings forth with resounding, jubulant laughter. Christ is risen! Death has been slain! It is conquered! Damn the laughing and the scorning of the bells!

And you too can hear the bells--
Cursed bells!
In your heart of solitude, pure terror surely swells!
By your lonely bed at night,
In the darkness without light,
As you breathe in your despair an horrid moan!
Every day that passes,
(They roll in endless masses)--
Monotone.
Oh the mistakes, and the regrets,
A true repentant heart besets,
Were it stone.
But their pealing, pealing, pealing,
Like a deep, incessant drone,
Succeed well in this their sealing
In our hearts a hopeless groan.
Thus they discharge with no reprieve
A rotten emptiness they leave--
Damn them all:
Damn their clatter and their clang
As they bang, bang, bang,
Bang
Those wicked, evil bells!
Of our ruin each foretells
Damn the clanging of the bells,
Sounding spiritual death knells;
Sounding death, death, death,
With each issue of their breath,
Damn, the sneering of the bells
Of the bells:
Sounding death, death, death,
With each issue of their breath
Damn the jeering of the bells
Of the bells, bells, bells—
Damn the laughing of the bells;
Sounding death, death, death!
And their knells, knells, knells,
With each vomit of their breath,
Damn the mocking of the bells
Of the bells, bells, bells:
Damn the hatred of the bells
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells--
Bells, bells, bells—
Damn the scoffing and the scorning of the bells.

God and No Other

2007-04-02T21:26:00.000-06:00

Unthinking respect for authority is the greatest enemy of truth.

--Albert Einstein

One often hears this quote, or something like it, thrown about in derision of appeals to authority. Yes, things like this are said with a guffaw in haughty dismissal of Christian claims, as detractors unthinkingly assume that there can be no such thing as a thinking respect for authority, as if authority in and of itself were irrational, as if unthinking disrespect for authority were a superior alternative. It seems to me that the first adjective in the quote above is rather irrelevant, rendering the remainder of the statement patently false. Whether or not the respect afforded results from thoughtful reflection or mere submission, the truth, as object, of any matter is not affected. The real question is whether the authority is true, thus commanding respect as a rational response, or usurped, thus deserving no respectful deference whatever. In fact, it would appear, the truth of Christianity does not stand or fall on the thoughtfulness of its adherents. It stands or falls on the authority of the Divine. The detractor can, therefore, find no solace in the human frailty of his opponent. It is with God that he has to do. It is with God that he must wrestle. God and no other.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

The Numbered Days of Meaninglessness

2007-03-27T20:19:00.000-06:00

“For it seemed to me that there was no ultimate goal for man. Man was beginning a grotesque and bewildered fight with nature—nature, that by the divine and magnificent accident had brought us to where we could fly in her face. She had invented ways to rid the race of the inferior and thus give the remainder strength to fill her higher—or, let us say, her more amusing—though still unconscious and accidental intentions. And, actuated by the highest gifts of the enlightenment, we were seeking to circumvent her. In this republic I saw the black beginning to mingle with the white—in Europe there was taking place an economic catastrophe to save three or four diseased and wretchedly governed races from the one mastery that might organize them for material prosperity."

“We produce a Christ who can raise up the leper—and presently the breed of the leper is the salt of the earth. If any one can find any lesson in that, let him stand forth.”

“There’s only one lesson to be learned from life, anyway,” interrupted Gloria, not in contradiction but in a sort of melancholy agreement.

“What’s that?” demanded Maury sharply.

“That there’s no lesson to be learned from life.”

--From The Beautiful and Damned, by F. Scott Fitzgerald

I like Fitzgerald. That is, I like his work. This exchange is rather telling. For all of its gut wrenching pessimism, its unapologetic racism, and its godlessness, at least it sets forth Darwinism and nihilism, two sides of the same tarnished coin, consistently. In the beginning of the modern world, men proudly found meaning in meaninglessness. They paraded their self perceived intellectual skills by arrogantly denying all that is good, decent, and respectable, anything that smacked of that pale faced Galilean. Men of mental capacity, you see, dwarfed the feeble minds of the leper race, the credulous masses, the ignorant faithful. But, then, when their "meaningful meaninglessness," at first but a mere idea, morphed into an evil force, it produced two world wars, the potential for world annihilation, and, in short, the bloodiest century the world has ever witnessed. So, they retreated to a higher hill and turned on their one time idol. Now, the would be god almost personified. No longer a mere idea, he took on form. Meaninglessness, the captain of horror, was the enemy, mercilessly attacking their right flank, even as Christianity attacked from the left. Some rallied to support the right with the armies of existentialism. When these failed, they brought in their reinforcements in waves. Hedonism, socialism, relativism, deconstructionism, scientism, postmodernism, among others not worthy of naming, all sallied bravely forth, but all plummeted headlong into the dark trenches awaiting them. That great demon, whose mighty claws never relinquish their victim once allowed to find their grasp, gives them no reprieve, no rest. Yet, in all of this, the children of modernity have neglected their left flank. The armies of Christianity were considered too weak, too silly, too irrelevant, too anachronistic to require thoughtful resistance. It was enough to catapult an occasional, irrationally and crudely placed boulder when the clamor became too loud or intolerable. The riffraff, after all, deserve no better. But, through it all, the numbers have grown and the ranks of Christianity have swollen. Even now, perhaps inadvertently, the faithful lines advance against the gates of hell only to find that the gates are not manned. The flank is broken, the post is abandoned. The once proud army that sought to build its edifice to the heights of heaven, to invade the Divine court and remove the crown from the Blessed Head, lies drunk within the comfort of its exposed encampment, unwilling to fight, proclaiming "Peace, peace!" when there is no peace, proclaiming "Truth, truth!" when they do not believe in truth, proclaiming victory even on the eve of war. They are indeed a hoard now, a disconnected, disorganized group of ruffians ripe for defeat. Yet, the children of modernity are a mere obstacle, a prelude to and victims of the real enemy, that ancient demon who has been given such reign over the hearts of men. It is he who must be slain, and slay him we will, for the fell Champion of Truth, the One who is Himself death's bane, will find no equal on the field of battle.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

A Raw Deal?

2007-02-03T13:00:00.000-07:00

I know, I know. We are Your chosen people. But, once in a while, can't You choose someone else?

--Spoke by the character "Tevye" in Fiddler on the Roof, written by Joseph Stein

The above quote is without a doubt my favorite line in the Fiddler on the Roof. The silent, yet ever present, character in the play and film is God, and Tevye's constant interaction with Him is humorous yet profoundly insightful. Tevye understands a biblical truth that many modern evangelicals refuse to accept. One might intuitively think that being among the chosen people of God, namely the church, from a New Testament perspective, would bring about health, wealth, and happiness. In fact, some preach this as if it were the Gospel. Yet, alas, more often, it brings about pain, ridicule, suffering, persecution, even martyrdom. We American evangelicals easily understand and apply the idea of victory in Christ. We have no problem fully accepting triumphalism in all its glory. However, we tend to ignore those passages which speak of serving the saints, even as Christ did not come to be served but to serve and to give His life as a ransom for many. We tend to forget that it is written that those who confess Christ should expect to suffer as He did. We tend to forget that the world will hate us even as they hated and despised our blessed Lord. Yes, when the suffering and persecutions come, we are often tempted to wonder why God just couldn't choose someone else and leave us alone. But, then, we are reminded that all the promises of God are yes and amen in Christ our Lord. We are reminded that the sufferings of this world do not begin to compare with the glory that awaits us. We are reminded that the health, wealth, and happiness of this world are but a vapor, like the grass of the field, it flourishes today, but tomorrow it is blown away as chaff. We are reminded that our heavenly Father could no more turn his attentive hand of discipline from His beloved elect than a loving, earthly father could neglect his children. Indeed, being the covenant people of God is not always easy. Sometimes, from a temporal, human, and selfish perspective, it seems like a raw deal. But I, for one, will take it.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

New Rooms in a Stately Manor (Second Post)

2007-01-30T20:29:00.000-07:00

The subject of evangelism recurs often in evangelical circles. I must confess that I often wince at the thought of another round of well meaning sales pitches and pseudo-sacramental prayer encounters. We have become so existential in Evangelicalism that we have lost touch not only with the faith of our fathers but even their way of thinking and articulating the faith once for all delivered unto the saints. Our lust for all things contemporary has ousted our wisdom. As a result, we often promote a Christianity that is little more than yet another self help craze among so many in our modern or postmodern world. Over a year ago I posted on the subject.

Almighty and most mercyfull father, we have erred and strayed from thy wayes, lyke lost shepe. We have folowed too much the devises and desyres of oure owne hearts. We have offended against thy holy lawes. We have left undone those things whiche we oughte to have done, and we have done those thinges which we ought not to have done, and there is no health in us: but thou, O Lord, have mercy upon us miserable offendors. Spare thou them, O God, which confesse theyr faultes. Restore thou them that be penitent, according to thy promyses declared. unto mankynde, in Christe Jesu oure Lorde. And graunt, O most merciful father, for his sake, that we may hereafter live a godly, righteous, and sobre life, to the glory of thy holy name. Amen.

Almighty God, unto whom all heartes be open, all desyres knowen, and from whom no secretes are hyd: clense the thoughtes of our heartes by the inspiracion of thy holy spirit, that we maye perfectlye love thee, and worthely magnify thy holy name: through Christ our Lorde. Amen.

- Thomas Cramner (from the English Book of Common Prayer)

I have heard a number of ad hoc "sinner's prayers" in my life as a Christian. None compare to, indeed none approach, the orthodox beauty and profound simplicity of the words quoted above. To deny the importance and applicability of Christian history is not only to violate the fifth commandment, as if that were not enough, it is the height of mindless, philistine foolishness. The beauty that flowed from the pens of our spiritual forefathers is absolutely breathtaking. My friends, there is nothing new under the sun. What we desire to say, has been said before. What we fail to articulate in our poverty stricken, modern English has already been written in the precise, yet awe inspiring words of men who risked their lives, honor, and fortunes for what they knew to be true. There is nothing inherently wrong with new words, or new ways of saying old things, just as there is nothing wrong with building a new room onto a stately manor. Yet, let us be diligent to ensure that our "new rooms" are worthy of the house we have inherited, the same house once inhabited by our esteemed, triumphant fathers in the faith.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

If I Were a Rich Man

2007-01-17T18:47:00.000-07:00

The most important men in town will come to fawn on me--
They will ask me to advise them,Like a Solomon the Wise--
"If you please, Reb Tevye?"--
"Pardon me, Reb Tevye?"--
Posing problems that would cross a rabbi's eyes--
(chanting) Ya va voy, ya va voy voy vum...
And it won't make one bit of difference
If I answer right or wrong--
When you're rich, they think you really know.

If I were rich, I'd have the time that I lack
To sit in the synagogue and pray,
And maybe have a seat by the Eastern wall,
And I'd discuss the learned books with the holy men
Seven hours every day--
That would be the sweetest thing of all...

Oy!If I were a rich man,
Daidle deedle daidle
Daidle daidle deedle daidle dum
All day long I'd biddy-biddy-bum
If I were a wealthy man.
I wouldn't have to work hard,
Daidle deedle daidle
Daidle daidle deedle daidle dum

Lord who made the lion and the lamb,
You decreed I should be what I am--
Would it spoil some vast, eternal plan,
If I were a wealthy man?

--Written by Sheldon Harnick and Jerry Bock, portion of "If I Were a Rich Man" from Fiddler on the Roof

No Reb Tevye, it wouldn't spoil some vast, eternal plan, but it would likely spoil you. Aye, that is the rub when it comes to wealth. Something of the soul is often lost with the acquisition of it. The lyrics of this charming, delightful, humorous song reveal a contrast between the simple heart of the pious, Jewish peasant and his acute, accurate understanding of the effects of wealth. If he were a rich man, he wouldn't have to know anything, because everyone would seek his counsel and friendship simply because men are naturally enthralled by those who have a lot of money. After all, we must admit that we tend to equate wealth with merit, despite all evidence to the contrary. If he were a rich man, he wouldn't have to work hard. In fact, he could be a bum all day long and let other people do his work for him. Although it makes us chuckle, there is a lot of truth in these words. Yet, notice that the premodern, inescapable charm of the character is also exposed. In what is really a short, dramatic, moving intermission, Reb Tevye expresses his true heart's desire to spend his time in study and learning, which, in his own words, would be the greatest thing of all. Indeed, it would. Of course, we search our memories for any rich men we know who actually spend their time in prayer and study, and we struggle to produce an actual example. Nevertheless, this is what we all think. If I were a rich man, if I were to hit the lottery, I would do many good things. I would have the time to do all the wonderful deeds I obviously do not have time for now. I would be shockingly charitable. I would give obscene amounts to the church. I would comfort the poor and needy. I would spend my leisure on worthy activities. I would stop kicking my dog. In short, I would be a better father, a better husband, a better Christian, a better person. We think this because we are not rich. If we were, we would probably just, well, biddy biddy bum.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Meaning in the Mundane

2007-01-08T18:33:00.000-07:00

Calm your expectations; reduce them to a lowly standard. Something real, cool, and solid, lies before you; something unromantic as Monday morning, when all who have work wake with the consciousness that they must rise and betake themselves thereto.

--Charlotte Bronte (from Shirley)

I find the simile employed by Bronte above thoroughly fascinating, not so much for its place within the introduction of her story, but for the sheer imagery. The verbiage is beautiful and elegant, yet it is almost physically painful. Any working person knows that gnawing feeling in their stomach, that filmy taste in their mouth, that fleeting thought of dread which accompanies our awakening to the Monday dawn. Of course, there are some who adore their work and cannot wait to begin the week, but such are few and far between in our modern, alienated society. Notice also how the author contrasts the adjectives "real" and "solid" with the romantic. At the same time, she asks us to assume the lowly standard of reality before proceeding. Yes, the real, the solid, truly is not very exciting in the final analysis. Life, we must admit, is not very romantic. It is often cool, often mundane, often hard. In fact, the great preacher of Ecclesiastes lets us in on an ancient secret of profound wisdom, one which we probably would rather not hear and certainly not heed. He spent much of his life pursuing pleasure, the exciting, the luxurious, the extraordinary. The world was his oyster, and he swallowed it whole; life was his elixir and he drank it to the full. Yet, he concludes that it is all vanity, a chasing after the wind. The sun rises and sets, yet it sees nothing new under its rays. As if that were not disturbing enough, he also concludes that the best we can do is have food for the mouth and work for the hands. He counsels us to obey the commandments of God and love the wife of our youth. This is not exactly juicy stuff. Indeed, such will rarely make for good novel or HBO series fodder. But, that is really the point after all. The insightful philosopher of the ancient text is telling us that wisdom is found not in pursuing the phantasms of extraordinary fantasy but in enjoying the mundane things of everyday life. Nevertheless, alas, we do not listen. We crave excitement; we lust for the illusive pleasures of the world, even as our souls pine for something more, something deeper, something lasting, something real. Like the old U2 song, we have climbed the highest mountain, we have scaled the city wall, we have felt the burning desire, we have held the hand of the devil, but we are still running. We still haven't found what we're looking for. We don't know what we're looking for exactly, we just know we haven't found it yet. Perhaps what we are looking for is already before us, already at our fingertips, and in our possession. Perhaps a roof over our head, a meal on the table surrounded by our family, a good glass of scotch, the conversation of intelligent company, and a gentle kiss from the wife of our youth is the point of arrival, the most we can expect from this life, the most we should expect. No, it isn't very romantic, but it is real. It is solid. It is true. It is, quite simply, beautiful in every respect, even if severely underappreciated.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Not Like a Tame Lion

2006-12-28T13:42:00.000-07:00

But amidst all these rejoicings Aslan himself quietly slipped away. And when the Kings and Queens noticed that he wasn't there they said nothing about it. For Mr. Beaver had warned them, "He'll be coming and going," he had said. "One day you'll see him and another you won't. He doesn't like being tied down and of course he has other countries to attend to. It's quite all right. He'll often drop in. Only you mustn't press him. He's wild, you know. Not like a tame lion."

- C.S. Lewis from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

Aslan is, obviously, a literary symbol or an analogy of Christ. Although the symbol of the lion is actually endorsed by Holy Scripture to describe the Anointed One of Judah, as in all analogies, the likeness and similarity breaks down somewhere. After all, Christ is not, in fact, a wild lion, just as he is not, in fact, a slaughtered lamb. These are merely literary images employed to display and symbolize certain Christlike characteristics. Now, when one thinks of a lion, one immediately focuses on the most obvious traits. No doubt, the lion is a noble creature, powerfully built, beautiful, even regal. As we are caught up in the romantic, royal imagery, we often fail to realize the most blatant trait. The lion is also dangerous, even fierce. Of course, this must be where the analogy breaks down, right? Surely the cuddly, lovable, "my best bud," gentle Jesus, meek and mild we learned about in Sunday School cannot be described as fierce. Surely Jesus is a tame lion, one that will roar on cue like the MGM mascot and jump through flaming hoops for our entertainment like the circus beast. Surely Jesus is there to comfort me, to support me emotionally, and fetch the stuff that I want in life, rather like a pet...right? Well, perhaps not. After all, somewhere the Scriptures speak about kissing the Son lest His wrath be kindled (Psalm 2:12). They also say something about His enemies being ground to powder (Matt. 21:44). Oh, and there are those pesky parables, like the one about having those who opposed Him slain before His eyes (Luke 19:27) and the other about the uninvited wedding guest being thrown into outer darkness, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth (Matt. 22:12). There is also that equally disturbing passage about people burning in the lake of fire in His presence (Rev. 14:10). I suspect it is a bit difficult to cuddle with the Divine-Man when He's gazing into your soul with His eyes of fire and piercing your spirit, discerning the thoughts and intents of your heart, with the sword that protrudes from His very mouth (Rev. 1). You see, the funny thing about Christ is He won't come when called. He won't obey our commands. He won't do nifty little tricks according to our whim and fancy. He won't dance to our tune. Conversely, He has the audacity to demand that we dance to His. Yet, He is also the tender Shepherd who selflessly, willingly laid down His life for His beloved sheep. He is also the tireless High Priest who pleaded for His disciples in His last hour and ever lives to make intercession for them. He is also the gentle prophet who patiently guided His apostles through the Scriptures which testify of Him on the road to Emmaus and even now guides us into all truth. No, you can keep your tame, pale, neutered Sunday School lion, thank you. I will take the one who secured my eternal salvation with His blood and established my fellowship with the Divine through His flesh, even if He isn't quite so cute and cuddly.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

The Latent Melody of Nature

2006-12-16T19:25:00.000-07:00

Another morning. The sun shone brightly; as brightly as if it looked upon no misery or care; and, with every leaf and flower in full bloom about her; with life, and health, and sounds and sights of joy, surrounding her on every side: the fair young creature lay, wasting fast. Oliver crept away to the old churchyard, and sitting down on one of the green mounds, wept and prayed for her, in silence.

There was such peace and beauty in the scene; so much of brightness and mirth in the sunny landscape; such blithesome music in the songs of the summer birds; such freedom in the rapid flight of the rook, careering overhead; so much of life and joyousness in all; that, when the boy raised his aching eyes, and looked about, the thought instinctively occurred to him, that this was not a time for death; that Rose could surely never die when humbler things were all so glad and gay; that graves were for cold and cheerless winter: not for sunlight and fragrance. He almost thought that shrouds were for the old and shrunken; and that they never wrapped the young and graceful form in their ghastly folds.

A knell from the church bell broke harshly on these youthful thoughts. Another! Again! It was tolling for the funeral service. A group of humble mourners entered the gate: wearing white favours; for the corpse was young. They stood uncovered by a grave; and there was a mother--a mother once--among the weeping train. But the sun shone brightly, and the birds sang on.

--Charles Dickens from Oliver Twist

The church bells mournfully tolled, yet the sun shone brightly, and the birds sang on. The cold, gray corpse was far too young, too young for the corruption of death, but the sun shone brightly, and the birds sang on. The heart of the one time mother was wrenched in her bosom, but the sun shone brightly, and the birds sang on. For all of its beauty, nature can sometimes seem so cruel, as if the Divine Creator had a very macabre and sinister sense of humor. A bird will sit perched on a willow branch over a still, mirror lake, chirping a joyous, playful tune, even as a man drowns twenty feet from the shoreline. The towering mountain will stand, regal and immutable, even as a man loses his footing and plummets silently to the depths of the valley beneath. How many murders has the gloriously illuminated moon witnessed in its flight across the night sky? How many men have literally baked in the desert sun, as it bore mercilessly upon them, the same sun which gives light to the world and sustains its burgeoning life? How many men have succumbed to the great waves of the same oceans in which we swim for recreation and into which we gaze in contemplation from the safety of the shorelines? We sit by our warm firesides and sigh as we pensively watch the gentle, soft snow fall upon the rolling hills, even as a lost man is dying from exposure to the cold. Unreflective men often tend to consider nature in one extreme or the other, as man is wont to do in many things. One may romanticize it, idealize it, even worship it, forgetting its apparently arbitrary cruelty. Those of a more nihilistic or cynical nature may deny nature its beauty, claiming it is but a quality subjectively imposed on the impersonal object by the illusions of the fanciful human mind. However, I contend that if we allow our minds to penetrate the initial wonder of nature's beauty and the initial horror of its cruelty, we will perceive a deeper principle at work, a principle which may be hidden in the symphony as a latent melody. Or, perhaps more properly speaking, it is the patent melody which we are too tone deaf to hear. Perhaps it is the very baffling, irreconcilable incongruity that is the real point, the message of natural revelation. We see beauty and horror, blessings and curses, harmony and chaos, pleasure and suffering, life and death, peace and turmoil, sweetness and cruelty, hope and despair all at once. Perhaps, if we listen closely to the drama displayed before us in the very scenes of nature, we will perceive that all is not right. Perhaps we will perceive that evil is a foreign element in this world, a world cursed because of the sin of mankind. Perhaps we will perceive that the reconciliation of the incongruity is not satisfactorily found in some sort of dualistic balance of good and evil, an apathetic, stoical or nihilistic shrugging of the shoulders, or even in the naive political and social aspirations of well meaning men. Perhaps we will perceive that the same absolute Deity which created the world as good also cursed it in its rebellion, and it will take nothing less than the healing touch of that same Creator to make things right again, to reconcile the incongruity, to bring peace where there is no peace. Perhaps we will perceive that our hope lies not in this world, but in the God who created it, the God of deliverance, the God of redemption, the God who will make all things new. You see, without the latent melody of redemption and renewal, nature itself becomes a display of hope as illusion, beauty without love, wonder without worth. But, with it, with faith, hope infuses the entire universe with meaning and purpose, like having the script for the harmonizing last act in the middle of a seemingly chaotic play.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Prayer as Art

2006-12-06T18:45:00.000-07:00

Almighty God, give us grace that we may cast away the works of darkness, and put upon us the armour of light, now in the time of this mortal life in which thy Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the quick and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal; through him who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Ghost, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

-- Collect for the First Sunday of Advent, Book of Common Prayer (1662)

I have previously written on formed prayers from the BCP numerous times (for instance, here, here, and here). My bias for them, which inevitably results from my admiration for their beauty and theological profundity, is obvious. The collect above is yet another example of an astounding union of piety, thoughtful precision, and aesthetic perfection. Notice first the poetic contrasts between light and darkness, between mortality and immortality, and between humility and glorification. Notice also that these contrasts are each of a different kind, escalating from disharmony to symbiotic harmony in ordered sequence, as ever increasing waves crashing on the sands of the shoreline until it is completely overwhelmed. Light and darkness, in the context of the prayer, are, of course, polar opposites. This is precisely why we pray that we may cast away the works of darkness, while subsequently putting on the armour of light. The works of darkness are as dirty rags that must be removed before donning the honorable mail. The second contrast is a bit more subtle. Mortality and immortality are not necessary polar opposites, at least not when referring to the human person. It is quite true, according to the self evident law of non-contradiction, that a particular, simple subject cannot be both mortal and immortal at the same time and in the same sense. However, a person can be both mortal and immortal, as, in fact, we all are, for a human person is not a simple subject. That is, our bodies, as presently constructed, are mortal, whereas our spirits are immortal. In this prayer, as in Scripture, the mortality of the flesh is used as a metaphor to symbolize the temporal world with all of its sin, lusts, pride of life, and corruption, whereas the immortality of the regenerate spirit is used as a contrasting metaphor to represent the life eternal, which we will spend in everlasting bliss in the presence of the almighty God. The contrast is necessary to the main theological thrust of the prayer, for it is in this life, this mortal, sinful state, that we need the special grace of God in order to persevere in our salvation and overcome the world, the flesh, and the Devil. The third contrast is so skilfully woven that it is truly only semantic or apparent. The biblical connection between humility and glorification is far from hidden in the ancient text of holy writ. Indeed, the connection is Christologically direct, so much so that it is proper to say that, in the Divine economy, in the Kingdom of God, humiliation results in glorification. As St. Paul expresses the concept in Philippians 2, Christ was given a Name which is above every name because the Divine Son humiliated Himself, made Himself of no reputation, taking the form of a bondservant, and coming in the likeness of men. He humbled Himself and became obedient unto death, even the accursed death of the cross. As usual, Divine truth turns earthly wisdom on its head and brings it to its knees, for, in the Kingdom of God, he who would be greatest, must become a servant, he who would be first, must become a slave, just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many.

Now turn your attention to the structure of the prayer. Notice the flow, which uncannily resembles a Hebraic chiasm:

A: [Give us grace] now in the time of this mortal life
B: [the time] in which Thy Son came to visit us in great humility
B: that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the quick and the dead
A: we may rise to the life immortal

Granted, in our modern manner of speaking, we rarely place much emphasis on structure. After all, serendipity is often considered as synonymous with spirituality in many circles. The forethought and intellectual labor which structure demands is considered dead and stale. Thankfully, we normally do not apply this same standard of idealized chaos to our music, art, and architecture. It is rare that one would belt out random notes and accidentally produce a sublime work of music. It is rare that one would throw paint on a canvas and stumble upon an exquisite masterpiece. It is rare that one would toss sticks, steel, and mortar into a pile and happen to produce a Gothic cathedral, an Eiffel Tower, or an Empire State building. Indeed, structure is essential to beauty, as the laws of aesthetics have taught us for centuries. This is not precisely the same thing as saying that structure is essential to prayer, for one may pray serendipitously in one's communion with the Living God, but it does mean that structure, or form, is essential to beautiful prayer. Thankfully, God, in His infinite grace, doubtlessly accepts even our ugly prayers, just as a loving father delights in the rambling prattle of a toddler. But, then again, I am not a toddler. I often wonder why many Christians will put more thought and mental effort into a financial report, an email to their boss, or even a blog post for that matter, than they will bother to spend when addressing the Almighty God of the Universe. I often wonder why beauty suddenly does not apply when addressing the Beautiful One who inhabits eternity.

Finally, let us not neglect the most laudable aspect of this wonderfully formed, collective supplication. Let us not neglect to note that it is pervasively, undeniably, unapologetically, expressly, and overtly biblical. Consider the following as a mere sampling of biblical support:

Almighty God, give us grace that we may cast away the works of darkness, (Rom. 13:12; Eph. 5:11)

and put upon us the armour of light, (Rom. 13:12; 2 Cor. 6:7; Eph. 6:11-17)

now in the time of this mortal life in which thy Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; (John 1:4-12; Phil. 2:5-11; Heb. 5:1-8)

that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the quick and the dead, (1 Pet. 4:5; 2 Tim. 4:1; Rom. 2:16; Acts 17:31; Rev. 20:12-15)

we may rise to the life immortal; (Rom. 2:7; 1 Cor. 15:53-54; 2 Tim. 1:10; John 3:16)

through him who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Ghost, one God, now and for ever. (Luke 19:38; John 1:49; John 18:37; Phil. 2:9-10; 1 Tim. 6:15; Rev. 17:14; Rev. 19:16)

At the cross of our blessed Lord Jesus Christ, as a culminating crescendo to His salvific opus, mercy and truth met together in harmony, righteousness and peace kissed in perfect fellowship, justice and grace found a common ground. Likewise, in many of the ancient, formed prayers of the church, beauty and piety join as one and bring ecstasy and bliss to the sin tortured soul.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

The Aroma of Life and the Stench of Death

2006-11-20T22:29:00.000-07:00

When He opened the seventh seal, there was silence in heaven for about half an hour. And I saw the seven angels who stand before God, and to them were given seven trumpets. Then another angel, having a golden censer, came and stood at the altar. He was given much incense, that he should offer it with the prayers of all the saints upon the golden altar which was before the throne. And the smoke of the incense, with the prayers of the saints, ascended before God from the angel's hand. Then the angel took the censer, filled it with fire from the altar, and threw it to the earth. And there were noises, thunderings, lightnings, and an earthquake. So the seven angels who had the seven trumpets prepared themselves to sound. The first angel sounded: And hail and fire followed, mingled with blood, and they were thrown to the earth. And a third of the trees were burned up, and all green grass was burned up. Then the second angel sounded: And something like a great mountain burning with fire was thrown into the sea, and a third of the sea became blood. And a third of the living creatures in the sea died, and a third of the ships were destroyed. Then the third angel sounded: And a great star fell from heaven, burning like a torch, and it fell on a third of the rivers and on the springs of water. The name of the star is Wormwood. A third of the waters became wormwood, and many men died from the water, because it was made bitter. Then the fourth angel sounded: And a third of the sun was struck, a third of the moon, and a third of the stars, so that a third of them were darkened. A third of the day did not shine, and likewise the night. And I looked, and I heard an angel flying through the midst of heaven, saying with a loud voice, "Woe, woe, woe to the inhabitants of the earth, because of the remaining blasts of the trumpet of the three angels who are about to sound!"

- St. John, from the Book of Revelation, Chapter 8

Admittedly, indeed, contrary to the claims of modern eschatological charlatans, the Book of Revelation is difficult to interpret. This is largely due to its genre as prophetic literature, which means that the book is obscure, symbolical, and mysterious completely by premeditated design. However, this does not necessarily indicate that the book is meaningless or so entirely arcane that we can derive no benefit from it. In fact, the apostle expressly states that those are blessed who read this Revelation and keep its teaching (Rev. 1:3). If it were impossible to understand, it would hardly be a blessing. Yet, unfortunately, when we read the chapter quoted above, we are tempted to allow our thoughts to wander and our eyes to glaze over. We read the words, but we rarely take them into our minds and receive them into our hearts, we rarely mark them, we rarely absorb them in faith. But, notice the exquisite imagery used by the Master Artist, notice the profound symbolism which depicts the prayers of the saints. Those prayers are poured out as incense, as a sweet smelling aroma into the heavenly censer and presented by an angelic hand in the very presence of the Beautiful One Himself. One can imagine a dramatic pause as the Lord Almighty, the Lord of Hosts allows the ascending smoke from the censer to fill his nostrils, as it were, as He breathes in the pleasant aroma of the holy supplications of His beloved saints. There is peace in heaven. There is tranquility. There is silence. Then, suddenly, as if the very slumbering wrath of God had been awakened in His spiritual breast, as if all creation trembled in fearful anticipation, the angel hurls the censer to earth, literally causing all hell to break loose on the planet, culminating in the great cry of woe to its inhabitants. It is the time of reckoning, it is the time of recompense, it is the time in which the blood of the martyrs is finally avenged. The heavens rain fire, the very mountains are brought low, the great seas are transformed, even the sun, moon, and stars are affected in this depiction of absolute divine fury. Meanwhile, in heaven, there is peace. The scroll continues to be read, the trumpets continue to sound, and the angels continue to cry "Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty, who was and is and is to come!" In short, though havoc reigns on earth, the heavens are unchanged, eternity is unmoved. For those very saints whose prayers filled the censer, for those very saints who have spilled their blood to seal their testimony, who yearn for the end of all things and for the Day of the Lord, peace is their inheritance, an inheritance incorruptible and undefiled. Yes, the world may laugh at the prayers of God's people, they may dismiss our humble petitions as superstitious nonsense in accordance with their godless presuppositions, but one day that censer will be hurled to the earth, and there will be no more laughing. There will be only weeping and gnashing of teeth.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Lost in Wonder and the Dawn of Hope

2006-10-27T18:30:00.000-06:00

I have learnt to love you late, Beauty at once so ancient and so new!

- Saint Augustine

There is something utterly unfathomable and sublime about the way in which the eternal God relates to temporal man, the way in which He communicates to us and reveals Himself. There is some way in which the very descriptions of the Everlasting One simply lift our minds from this deteriorating, corruptible world, and place us in the realm of the Divine. He is the Ancient of Days. He was, and is, and is to come. He is the beginning and the end, the alpha and the omega. He is the I Am that I Am. He is Wonderful. Indeed, within our minds of flesh, when we contemplate the divine majesty, we can only beat our breasts and sing with the Psalmist, "Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, it is high, I cannot attain unto it." No, we cannot attain to it, but because we are fashioned in the image of God, it is not completely lost on our minds, however feeble they may be. There is a sense in which we grasp it, a sense in which we understand it, a sense in which we soar to truth unknown and even now bask in the pure light of the beauty of His holiness. The Beautiful One is shrouded in light, shrouded in the eternity of divine perfection, shrouded in the ancient mystery of His Being, yet it is that very light, that very perfection, and that very Being which satisfy our souls, refresh us, and renew our strength. We are brought low in humility by the knowledge of God, yet that same knowledge causes us to mount up with wings as eagles. He is the Ancient of Days, hidden from us in His holiness as the darkness covers the moonless sky, yet, His mercy, His blessing, and His love for His people are as new as the dawn of morning. Yes, our minds wrestle with eternity as a woman travails in childbirth, our minds are bound to this world, subject to corruption and decay, yet God has placed that same eternity within our hearts, and by it we ascend to a world without end.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Vacationing with Dead Men (Second Post)

2006-10-19T19:06:00.000-06:00

I originally posted the following article in April of 2005. I have recently been thinking on the subject of political acclimation, so I thought it would be worthwhile to repost my previous thoughts. I am reminded of the words of King Theoden in The Two Towers, by JRR Tolkien--"How did it come to this?" Oh, good, conflicted king, it came by gradual and silent encroachments, by a slow and steady advancement of the darkness of oppression and tyranny, and, most importantly and shamefully, by good men doing nothing. You see, Mordor is not merely a fantastical land in a wonderful piece of fine literature. It is a metaphor for tyranny. Men allow its darkness to remain and its fires to remain kindled, for they find it useful for their own agendas. It grows under their noses, it feeds on their lust for power. Then, over the negligence of time, its minions are found storming the very gates of liberty.

I believe there are more instances of the abridgement of freedom of the people by gradual and silent encroachments by those in power than by violent and sudden usurpations.

- James Madison

I suppose one could quibble with Madison and cite historical evidence of sudden usurpations in such instances as the Bolshevik Revolution in Russia or any other communist revolution of the 20th Century. However, one must also realize that the nations in which the communist revolutions succeeded were hardly bastions of liberty. In fact, the communist regimes often merely supplanted equally totalitarian and tyrannical rulers. The people were simply sacrificed pawns and reshuffled in slavery like a deck of worn cards. True liberty can only be successfully supplanted in slow phases. You see, there are two competing, often contradictory elements of the human nature. On the one hand, man yearns for freedom. Thus, if you attempt to rob his freedom by force, he will most often rebel. On the other hand, man yearns for comfort and security. If you encroach slowly and cleverly upon his freedom, he will grow used to the increasingly oppressive environment; he will become comfortable with the revised status quo and consider it normal. If you had told a revolutionary soldier of the 18th Century that he should be paying 30 or 40 percent (or more) of his wages through cleverly devised tax schemes to support the bureaucracy of the state, I daresay he would have choked on his locally brewed beer and spewed forth an impressive array of enlightenment era vulgarities. Once something becomes "normal" it is extremely difficult to change course. The formerly normal position becomes radical and the formerly radical becomes normal. This is precisely why it is so important to read and take seriously the works of men long dead. They bear witness to an era in which the normality of the present was not normal at all. Sometimes we must become de-acclimated in order to observe our present state objectively. So, I challenge you to take a literary vacation to bygone centuries, to take in the spring air and bask in the summer sun of premodern thinking. Then, return to see if you can endure the cold winter of contemporary liberal tyranny.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

There is a God, and I am not He

2006-10-14T20:43:00.000-06:00

In the total expanse of human life there is not a single square inch of which the Christ, who alone is sovereign, does not declare,'That is mine!'

- Abraham Kuyper

There is one thing that all men cherish, one thing that is presupposed above all else, the sacred doctrine against which no contrary voice will be tolerated. That thing is autonomy, the fanciful belief that we are our own masters. The poet William Ernest Henley probably expressed it most effectively in his poem "Invictus."

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

Now, Henley may have sincerely believed that he was indeed the master of his fate, the captain of his soul, but he was sincerely and simply wrong. The words above have, no doubt, inspired many to steel their rebellious resolve and not go softly into the night, to rage against the machine, and kick against the heavenly goads. But, kick as man will, the immutable God of all creation is not moved, He is not intimidated, He is not dethroned. There can be no usurpation of the Kingship of Christ, for He has been established on the Holy Hill of Zion, God has declared the decree, and He shall reign forever and ever. You see, there are two lessons that we all must learn before we begin to understand the way things are, two axioms that we must absorb into our dark and sinful hearts. First, there is a God. Second, I am not He.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Sursum Corda

2006-10-01T20:03:00.000-06:00

Minister: Lift up your hearts.

People: We lift them up to the Lord.

Minister: Let us give thanks unto the Lord our God.

People: It is meet and right so to do.

Minister: It is very meet, right, and our bounden duty, that we shoud at all times, and in all places, give thanks unto Thee, O Lord, Holy Father, Almighty, Everlasting God...Therefore with Angels and Archangels, and with all the company of heaven, we laud and magnify Thy glorious Name; evermore praising Thee, and saying, "Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of Hosts, heaven and earth are full of Thy glory; Glory be to Thee, O Lord Most High. Amen."

- The Sursum Corda (Found in many Christian liturgies)

The Sursum Corda is brief, yet it is teeming with sublime truth. It is simple, yet it is strikingly profound. To lift our hearts to the Lord is not simply or merely to feel emotions about God. It is to enter the very heavenly realms in our worship, to enter the Holy of Holies with all boldness by the blood of our blessed Savior, Jesus Christ. It is to enter into the very presence of the thrice holy Deity not by means of our flesh, or on the basis of our merit, but through a new and living way, which He consecrated for us, through the veil, that is, His flesh. It is to draw near unto the divine Throne of Grace with a true heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water. In Christian worship, our hearts are lifted to the right hand of God,where our blessed Savior has gone before us. The inexhaustible chasm between heaven and earth is bridged by the power of the Spirit, our hearts and voices ascend to the temple not made with hands, and our prayers are sanctified by Christ who is our faithful High Priest, set before the Father Himself as incense, as a sweet smelling, pleasing, and satisfying aroma. Yes, yes, it is true, beloved of God, somehow it is true, the prayers of the saints fill the divine court with a pleasant aroma, an aroma pleasing unto the Lord of Hosts, the Ancient of Days, the Wonderful One, the King of Glory. Indeed, what a wonder and mystery this is! Beloved of God, lift up your hearts, lift them up unto the Lord. Upon the assurance of the very Word of God, there you will find Sabbath rest for your souls and perfect peace, a peace which the world simply cannot give, a peace which will guard your heart and mind, a peace incorruptible and undefiled. Lift up your hearts, oh ye saints of His, for the way is prepared.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Myths and Morsels

2006-09-26T19:51:00.000-06:00

- El Greco "Mary Magdalene in Penitence"

Wives, likewise, be submissive to your own husbands, that even if some do not obey the word, they, without a word, may be won by the conduct of their wives, when they observe your chaste conduct accompanied by fear. Do not let your adornment be merely outward -- arranging the hair, wearing gold, or putting on fine apparel -- rather let it be the hidden person of the heart, with the incorruptible beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is very precious in the sight of God.

- Saint Peter

Saint Mary Magdalene is an important biblical personality, no doubt. She stood by Christ during His Passion, even as his brave disciples took to their heels in fright. She was honored to be among the first to behold the Risen Lord with her eyes of flesh. Likewise, she was among the first, perhaps the first, to proclaim that Christ had conquered death. However in Christian tradition she has taken on an importance beyond the data supplied in Scripture. Through tradition and lore, she has transcended what she may have been historically, now signifying Christian ideals of pious femininity, repentance, and new birth. In short, she has become something of a Christian myth or legend. It is not my purpose here to determine if the tradition surrounding this beloved saint is historically accurate. I will leave that to the ecclesiastical historians and to the reader's own speculation. Nevertheless, even if the tradition is not completely accurate, what Mary represents through that tradition is true, profound, moving, and utterly beautiful. To the modern ear it sounds quaint or even barbarous, but, once upon a time, Christians valued sexual purity. Once upon a time, Christians captured ideas of repentance, and through the various artistic media offered hope of a new life. Lift your eyes once again to the painting above. El Greco captures childlike innocence in the large, expectant, uplifted eyes and pure, fair complexion of the saint, yet, you will remember, she was a prostitute. Glorious, conquering light peers through the receding dark clouds, offering a glimmer of hope and illumination, yet, you will remember, she was a whore. She is presented as the very picture of peace and tranquility, yet, you will remember, she was demoniac. The sprout to her right grows unexpectedly from the rock in the wilderness, even as her infantile faith yet sprouts in her spirit, a spirit once mired with shame, seared with a hot iron, and lost in despair. The old has passed away. Behold, all things have become new. Contrary to modern "legends" of femininity, she does not sell her body to our eyes, her female secrets for our lustful consumption. Her manner reveals that she sells herself to God and Him alone. Her beauty emanates not from her ability to attract the lustful glance, but from her internal beauty, her pious soul.

So, what does it mean to be a Christian woman? As a man, I will not dare to pontificate on the subject. However, I will submit that the traditions of the church offer more than interesting legends. They offer metaphorical morsels which should be a delight to the regenerate palate.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

The Prow of the Global Vessel

2006-08-30T21:23:00.000-06:00

But high above the flying scud and dark-rolling clouds, there floated a little isle of sunlight, from which beamed forth an angel's face; and this bright face shed a distant spot of radiance upon the ship's tossed deck, something like that silver plate now inserted into Victory's plank where Nelson fell. "Ah, noble ship," the angel seemed to say, "beat on, beat on, thou noble ship, and bear a hardy helm; for lo! the sun is breaking through; the clouds are rolling off- serenest azure is at hand."

Nor was the pulpit itself without a trace of the same sea-taste that had achieved the ladder and the picture. Its panelled front was in the likeness of a ship's bluff bows, and the Holy Bible rested on a projecting piece of scroll work, fashioned after a ship's fiddle-headed beak.

What could be more full of meaning?- for the pulpit is ever this earth's foremost part; all the rest comes in its rear; the pulpit leads the world. From thence it is the storm of God's quick wrath is first descried, and the bow must bear the earliest brunt. From thence it is the God of breezes fair or foul is first invoked for favorable winds. Yes, the world's a ship on its passage out, and not a voyage complete; and the pulpit is its prow.

- Herman Melville, from Moby Dick

Seldom, I think, would anyone today consider the pulpit the bow of the world's ship, the foremost part of our global vessel. Even many Christians do not think much of the pulpit in our modern times. Many of us yawn, wonder why the preacher is so long winded, check our watches every 30 seconds, and think on other things, such as the movie we watched Saturday night, the dinner that we plan to eat that evening, or the latest standings of the NFL. Many of us fondle the bulletin or stare at the Bible in our laps, making a pretense of reading it. In fact, we all long for the show, for the spectacular. The preacher may be expounding on the most profound and meaningful truths of the faith, yet our attention would be more securely grasped if he were to stand on his head and sing "I am Henry the Eighth, I am." Yes, man, though such a noble creature, is also, in his heart, quite silly. We prefer amusement to musing, entertainment to thinking. God has given us a sublime ability, a unspeakably wonderful gift, yet we languish idle, discontent, and bored. The stars of the heavens, in their grandeur, make their rounds, perform their function, and display the wonders of the Divine, yet they do so without knowledge, mere cogs in the universal design. It is man, and only man that can penetrate the material and discover the underlying word, the logos which infuses the worlds with life, energy, and complex purpose. Yes, man has been given the gift of reason, the stamp of the image of God, yet we prefer not to use it. We prefer to go aft and mindlessly watch the gulls, even as the waters overtake the bow, even as the keeper of the pulpit braves the crashing, wrathful waves of the turbulent sea. It is an easy thing to man the ship; it is easy thing to simply be in the nave; it is easy thing to sway with the heaving swells, to feel the effects of religion. It is an easy thing to surrender our hands and our hearts to Christ, but let Him once command our minds, let us once dare to man the prow, in intellectual fervor if not in office, and there you will find the essence of thorough piety. You see, in mindless obedience we act as insentient matter. In mindless emotion, we act on instinct as the dog. But, in truly grasping the logos of God, we act as we are in truth, the Imago Dei.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

An Old and Dear Friend

2006-08-28T22:34:00.000-06:00

As Christians, we have a particular responsibility to prepare ourselves to listen. We are not called to be bystanders in the unfolding of God’s mystery; we are called to be active participants – we are called to be warriors! As warriors, we wear Christ as our armor, as our weapon we carry the two-edged sword of God’s word, our battle cry is Truth and Love, and our victory is peace.

- Michael Hallman

Michael is an old friend of mine. By old, I mean that I have known him since boyhood. In fact, I believe I was but a mere twelve years old, and he nine years old, when God ordained the crossing of our youthful paths in our old stomping grounds of Williamstown, NJ. I give thanks to our blessed Lord that His grace has relatively recently conquered his heart, and he is now preparing himself for the Catholic priesthood. Thus, he is not only an old friend; he is a dear brother in Christ. He has a bright mind and a golden tongue, which is why I am ecstatic that he has recently entered the blogosphere. I encourage you to visit his new site from time to time. Although most of my readers, presumably, are probably not Catholic, I think you will find that his insight has the ability to span denominational barriers. You may not always agree with him in every detail, but you will perceive the heart of a sincere disciple of Christ in his sentiment. I am confident that many of his inspiring words and the power of his authentic faith will resonate in the Christian heart, even the heart of the non-Roman Catholic variety.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Glimpses into an Exclusive Realm

2006-08-23T19:45:00.000-06:00

- Allan Ramsay - "Portrait of George III"

This fascinating and captivating work of art is yet another fine example of the profound beauty and captured insight of the painted portrait. The artist simply could not have made King George look more dignified, majestic, and, indeed, royal if he had been born of angelic stock. The bright yellow causes the subject to shine like the sun against the dark background. One is not sure if the light emanates from a source to the left for from the subject himself. The perfect, sensual, and exquisite detail of the fabrics speak of wealth and aesthetic rapture. The contrast of texture between the stone pillar, the flowing curtain, and the soft apparel indicate the balance maintained in the royal duty between the hardness of an administrator of justice, a keeper of the realm, and the mercy of a benevolent ruler. The king's stature is manly, yet thoroughly refined. His broad shoulders intimidate, yet his face is not menacing. He holds a commanding presence, yet his head is held askance, haughtily, as if removed in a very aristocratic sort of way. None of this, I am sure, is an accident, none of it is by chance, none of it is without premeditated purpose. A photograph of King George, I am quite confident, could never be so flattering and so completely able to accomplish the purpose of bolstering the power of the crown. You see, a photographer cannot infuse meaning into a subject. Certainly a good photographer can choose meaningful subjects, set the stage, and use his skill to capture a significant moment which may be profound. Yet, the subject remains as it is. Only the painter can alter the subject, infuse ideals into the subject, and truly portray the subject with precise and exact purpose. In a painting, any fine painting, the subject is never really the object painted. The subject is always the ideal, the message, the word underlying the material that the artist wishes to express. Thus, the artist captures the logos, the metaphysical reality, the meaning beyond or under the object of our senses and translates us to the realm of the rational mind, a realm of beauty and symbolism, a realm trod only by God and man.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Remembering Thomas Newcomen

2006-08-06T21:00:00.000-06:00

The painting above depicts Thomas Newcomen’s atmospheric steam engine. Though James Watt perfected it, it was Thomas Newcomen (1663-1729), my 8th great grandfather, who first built this machine, thus unexpectedly gaining for himself the honor of being titled the father of the industrial revolution. Contrary to modern, liberal, environmentalist, quasi-luddite thought, this is an honor. Though, admittedly, little is known of Thomas, many history books will fail to tell you that he was also a Puritan lay preacher, from a staunchly Puritan family, known for his fiery, enthusiastic sermons. In fact, his father was instrumental in securing a pastorate for John Flavel in Devonshire. For these reasons, albeit I am not a Puritan, I honor Thomas Newcomen not only as one of my ancestors, but as a personal hero. Though his ancestry was of the landed gentry, dating back to Hugh Newcomen of Lincolnshire under Richard I, Thomas was a humble man, a working man who earned his way in life by the sweat of his brow. His lot was not easy, his circumstances were harsh, cold, and, by modern standards, miserable. Yet, even in such a context, Thomas was able to grasp the true essence of manhood. He was able to understand that man is created to glorify God by advancing the station of humanity. He understood that man is placed on this earth to fulfill two commissions, one which stems from the concept of the Imago Dei and one which stems from the sacrifice of the Son of the Living God. He dedicated his life to doing his part to fulfill both commissions given to man by the Creator. The first commissions man to subdue the earth, the second commissions man to spread the Gospel. Thomas did both, and he did so with all of his heart and mind. When I consider men like Thomas and the fruits of his labors, that have benefited basically everyone in the world to some extent, I wonder at the modern luddite concepts of shameless earth worship. How many times have we heard the pious sounding phrase “We belong to the earth” or some other such utter nonsense? Thomas understood that we do not belong to the earth. In fact, the earth belongs to us, and we belong to God. Men like Thomas understand that the forces of the earth are not to be worshipped, as if we were barbaric, animalistic pagans. Instead, they are to be subdued for the advancement and betterment of mankind. Like a wild stallion, the earth must be tamed; its forces and energies must be turned from working against us to working for us. The Newcomen atmospheric steam engine, though crude, was a model of this concept, a microcosm displaying a divine precept. It tamed a force of nature and used it for the advancement of human industry. The backward environmentalists may revile him, but the next time that you drive to work in your fossil fuel burning car to provide for your family, take advantage of modern medicine to prolong your life and increase your comfort, or buy basic necessities at a relatively low cost, remember my father Thomas and smile. We have been given dominion. The earth is ours to subdue, and subdue it we will.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

The Rudeness of Truth

2006-07-30T16:11:00.000-06:00

The truth is incontrovertible, malice may attack it, ignorance may deride it, but in the end; there it is.

- Winston Churchill

Truth is a rude sort of thing. Like an annoying fly, it will continue to buzz around your head even if you make every effort to ignore it. Of course, unlike the buzzing fly, you won't be able to reach out and swat it. In fact, if you ignore it too long, it will swat you. The truth is. That is not a sentence fragment, for the noun needs no predicate adjective. The truth is. In fact, the truth is all there is. Lies and distortions of truth are figments of human imagination, as our lies have no being, no objective validity outside of our own minds. We may choose to believe lies, we may even convince others to believe our lies, but that does not make them real. We may choose to live a fiction, choose to play a part in our own comic play, but, eventually truth will fall like a curtain and rudely end the charade. The Nazis fancied that their's was the movement of God on earth. Then the Allies stormed Berlin. The Pharaohs of Egypt once fancied themselves divine. Now they rot in their pyramids. Napoleon once fancied himself invincible with a right to conquer the world. Then came the cold realities of a Russian winter. Satan once fancied that the kingdoms of the earth were his to do with as he pleased. Then the Lord declared the decree regarding Christ "Thou art my Son; this day have I begotten thee. Ask of me, and I shall give thee the heathen for thine inheritance, and the uttermost parts of the earth for thy possession." Yes, truth is a rude, stubborn sort of thing. As it turns out, you must either deal with it, or it will deal with you.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

The Portrait Artist

2006-07-13T22:30:00.000-06:00

- George Romney - "Miss Willoughby"

Portraits are realistic. Thus, they are often derided in the modern world as a waste of time. After all, these days, a photograph could capture Miss Willoughby's image much more effectively than a painting, which would take hours of skilled, expensive labor to produce. That argument would seem true, if it were not specious, at least when applied to the best of portrait artists. Look closely at the painting and ask yourself if a photographer could capture the same image. Could a photographer emanate light from the angelic face? Could a photographer crown his subject with the earthly halo of a bonnet? Could a photographer blend the feminine pink with the images of nature in the background, thus uniting refined nobility with the harsh elements of nature? Miss Willoughby looks like a saint, like an angel. Yet, she also looks, thoroughly, like a little girl. The ethereal beauty of her little face is other wordly, yet she plays with her ribbons. She looks safe and secure, yet the background slopes downward, giving one a sense of uneasiness and imbalance. Could a photographer capture these tensions? I think not. The philosophical musings, the perfect blending of color, the historical context, the subjective capturing of essence belongs to the canvas, not the photograph.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Love Keeps No Record of Wrongs

2006-07-06T19:16:00.000-06:00

The great thing about baseball is when you're done, you'll only tell your grandchildren the good things. If they ask me about 1989, I'll tell them I had amnesia.

- Sparky Anderson

I will admit that I am a Detroit Tigers fan, and I have been such, more or less, all of my life. The fact that they are currently winning for a change is merely icing on the cake. That is the thing about being loyal, you have to forget the bad and cling to the good, you must keep no record of wrongs. Tigers fans remember 1945, 1968, and/or 1984, depending on their age. Many of them may not be able to tell you who the president was in 1968, but they will bend your ear with stories of Mickey Lolich and his three World Series victories. Many of them could not recite the events which were current in 1984, but they can quickly recall with a pensive smile Detroit's 35-5 record in the first 40 games that year or Jack Morris' glorious no-hitter. But, 1989? Funny, I can't say that I recollect that year. Sparky's amnesia must have been contagious.

Even if you are not into baseball, which I suspect many of my readers are not, please note that there is a lesson about loyalty and love somewhere in all of this. Being loyal to a baseball club is really rather immaterial in the grand scheme of things. Yet, how many of us will keep no record of wrongs against our home team, but when it comes to our spouse or our parents we are waiting with our list in hand to recite the countless offenses? Modern psychologists, many shameless Christian pop-psychologists included, encourage us to engage in the fruitless, irresponsible, and unmanly exercise of deciphering precisely how our parents completely messed us up in our formative years. Supposedly this practice of tallying the offenses is somehow cathartic, though I fail to see how a direct violation of the fifth commandment could bring comfort to the soul. I am no psychologist, but I am a son, and as such I am a fan of my father. I can tell you with a boyish grin about the time he taught me to fish at my grandfather's lakefront home. I can tell you with warmth in my heart that he took me out to breakfast twice a month just to enjoy my company. I can recount with a reflective sigh the times when he comforted me in my sorrow and guided me in my despair. I can remember with a grateful wince the countless times that he quite effectively drove juvenile foolishness from my heart with his rod of discipline, although my father did not actually need a rod. His hand was enough. I can quote word for word some of the sage advice he has given me over the years, even if I did not always give ear to his wisdom, normally to my own detriment. I can tell you how he taught me to be a man, to endure the hardships of life with the thick skin of Christian masculinity, to maintain my integrity and honor above all else, to love, to laugh, to persevere. Was my father perfect? Of course not. You ask me about his faults? Funny, I can't say that I recollect any. I guess I must have had amnesia on those occasions.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Ineffective Government

2006-07-05T20:54:00.000-06:00

In framing a government which is to be administered by men over men the great difficulty lies in this: You must first enable the government to control the governed, and in the next place, oblige it to control itself.

- Alexander Hamilton

It seems painfully obvious that we currently have a government that can neither control the governed nor control itself. Very few feel safe on the streets of American cities. We have such a thing as repeat offender child molesters residing in our neighborhoods. Illegal immigrants cross the borders with absolute impunity. Singling out young, male Arabs as potential terrorists is demonized as racial profiling. Police no longer walk the beat, looking after the private property of good citizens, but instead patrol the highways handing out speeding tickets as glorified tax collectors. When a natural disaster occurs, thugs terrorize the illegally disarmed, law abiding citizens. Yet, the federal, state, and local budgets continue to increase ad infinitum, ad nauseam. The leviathan of the state continues to enlarge its tentacles, like a mythical hydra, it multiplies its power against each blow dealt to it from the ideals of liberty and justice. Would Hamilton be pleased? I think not.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Clinging to Beauty

2006-06-13T21:27:00.000-06:00

- Pablo Picasso "The Old Guitarist"

This is obviously one of Picasso’s less “abstract” works. Oddly, the old man is actually recognizable as a person, and he is fully clothed. Actually, that is not quite fair, as Picasso has many works with fully clothed, recognizable people, despite the fact that the modern art “connoisseur” is so enthralled with abstract representations and pornography. Nevertheless, as I have stated previously, I am not a great fan of Picasso, but I particularly admire this painting. It actually hangs on my office wall at work to remind me of a very important human principle, a principle which defines our struggle as simultaneously spiritual and physical beings. This principle is contrast. I think it is fair to say that the old man is decrepit. Notice the sagging head, the hunched back, the skeletal frame, the boney fingers. His eyes are closed and his mouth is open, as if he were utterly exhausted, sleeping, or even dead. The poor old man is definitely on his last leg. Now, note the guitar. Though the artist does not depict it in detail, yet it is perfect in form. It is beautiful in a very simple sort of way. The old man caresses it, in fact he clings to it, as if clinging to life itself. The only sign of life in the old man’s body is his fingering of his beloved instrument. Perhaps he clings to more than mere life, perhaps he clings to something more meaningful to the human being, perhaps he clings to beauty, a thing, a concept, an ideal which has retreated from his physical form in his old age. Beauty may have betrayed him and left his decaying body to fend for itself, but he will not relinquish it entirely. It seems this old man will die with his guitar in his arms, producing music with his arthritic fingers, echoes of an ideal that has abandoned him. Thus, we see contrast—beauty and decrepitude, death and life, ideal and real, ecstasy and suffering, exhaustion and energy, permanence and temporality. Thus, it hangs in my office. When I am tempted by the insipidity of modern professional endeavors to loose my grasp of true meaning, I avert my eyes to this painted treasure. Even when our tasks and duty would rob us of our internal life and our sense of divine purpose, we must resist the urge to capitulate. We must grasp meaning, we must cling to it with our mind, heart, and soul. We must not surrender our sense of beauty and transcendence, lest we become like the animals, living for our bellies and crass, fleshly, materialistic gratification. Yes, I am the old man, we all are the old man. We are decaying flesh, yet something deep within us can appreciate transcendent beauty, we can even produce it. Though our physical form seemingly yearns to return to the dust from whence it came, our spirits long for more. Our spirits soar to uncreated heights. Let us cling to those heights as this old man clings to his guitar.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

For those of you who have expressed interest in my art critique, amateur though it may be, I have a few from the past that may interest you.

http://deadmensvoices.blogspot.com/2004/11/not-so-easy.html

http://deadmensvoices.blogspot.com/2005/04/world-of-confusion.html

http://deadmensvoices.blogspot.com/2005/08/beauty-and-truth.html

Laughing with Sinners and Crying with Saints

2006-06-07T20:24:00.000-06:00

- Rembrandt "Holy Family"

At first glance, this portrait is, perhaps, a bit boring. The colors are rather dark and unrevealing. Only in the stream of light do you see great detail. The unification is rather disconcerting. As you observe the painting from bottom to top, everything seems to disappear in the darkness of the ceiling. Again, your attention is drawn to the canvas from a diagonal angle by the use of the light from the window. There is very little action going on, contrary to some of Rembrandt's works. Sampson is not having his eyes gouged out, there is no writing on the wall, and no large birds are stealing away naked children. In fact, the holy family is not doing much more than any normal family would be doing. They are existing quietly in their home. Mary is breastfeeding her child as Joseph is working inconspicuously in the corner. They are acting like normal people. Lest you become too bored and miss the point, you should be aware that your boredom is the point. This is a quintessential Reformational work. We see no medieval depiction of Mary with a heavenly halo. We see no Jan Eck-like portrait of the virgin with an unearthly, mystical expression. We see a normal man and a normal woman with a seemingly normal child. The light does not emanate from the virgin or even from the Christ-child Himself. It emanates quite naturally from the sunlight through the window. We see here at once the Reformational ideas of the sanctification of the mundane and the promotion of unostentatious piety. We see here that God is served in our everyday lives, in our work, in our average activities, in our struggles, in our love, in our families, in our joy, in our sorrows. Reformational Christians are not halo-sporting moralists. They are not mystics or ascetics. They are normal people, struggling to live their lives to the glory of God quietly and in peace. They eat, they drink, they laugh, they cry, they rejoice, they lament, they work, they rest, they love. In short, the Reformational saint is simply human in the fullest sense of the term. Thus, it is my contention that Reformational piety is true piety. That is, it is a piety that is true. It is a piety that allows the religious to be both fully spiritual and fully human. Only the Reformational Christian will both laugh with the sinners and cry with the saints. Only the Reformational Christian is simultaneously fully part of this world and fully consecrated to the Kingdom of Heaven. Sadly, this often means the Reformational believer is condemned as worldly by Christian moralists and derided as fanatical by the infidel. Of course, since Christ was condemned both as an intemperate winebibber and a raving lunatic, I suppose we are in good company.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Getting to the Real Subject

2006-05-18T21:23:00.000-06:00

- Vincent Van Gogh "Twelve Sunflowers in a Vase"

Many people do not like this painting. Others hang it on their wall because anyone who is anyone knows that Van Gogh paintings are cool to hang on walls. Hanging a Van Gogh makes us feel fashionable and artistically sensitive. Of the two groups, I prefer the former, although this is one of my favorite paintings. I prefer the former group, because they are honest. The painting is not immediately beautiful. If one is viewing the work superficially, they are absolutely right. It is hideous. Any housewife worth her salt would toss these pathetic, wilting sunflowers into the trash. The latter group views the painting just as superficially, but they are not honest. They call it beautiful, although they completely misunderstand it. They do not seek to understand it. They seek only to decorate their homes with that which the contemporary culture finds acceptable. However, I believe there is a third alternative. There are those to understand that the subject of the painting is not as it seems. Van Gogh, perhaps, is not treating us to a collection of beautiful sunflowers. His subject is not sunflowers at all. His subject is more abstract and emotional. His subject is personal struggle. Now, view the work again, however, this time begin with the wilted flower at the bottom right. Zig zag your eyes up slowly until you reach the flowers in the upper center burgeoning with life and vigor. If you have a strange sensation, a grasp of struggle, an inkling of the zest for full, abundant life, an overpowering desire to overcome inevitable degradation, I think you have grasped the subject. Ah, but Van Gogh will not allow you to stop there. This time, begin in the upper center and zig zag your eyes slowly downward. The virulent sunflowers now become the wilted weed. Feel the hopelessness, depression, and despair. Now, only now do you understand Vincent's soul. This is the man who painted some of the most original and creative works of his age, yet his life ended in suicide. His soul is on display for you. No, sunflowers are not the subject. The subject is Vincent himself.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Tapping the Vestiges

2006-05-12T20:28:00.000-06:00

- Rembrandt: Landscape with a Long Arched Bridge

The above painting is a Rembrandt masterpiece. Yes, Rembrandt did do landscapes. Such paintings have long fascinated me. Why is it that we enjoy landscapes? One could argue that they are among the most popular artistic works, at least in American homes. At the same time, they are sometimes ridiculed by radical abstractionists as a product of mindless enslavement to illusive and illusory objectivity. I wonder why one would choose to hang a Rembrandt, a Monet, or other work depicting a natural scene, when one could just take a picture, blow it up, and display it just as easily. In fact, one might conclude that landscapes are a waste of time, as the artist labors for hours, or days, over a depiction that can be captured with a mere click of a camera. What truth or profound idea, if any, is found in a landscape that is not found in a photograph? After some thought, I think the answer may be found in the subtle, yet utterly mystifying distinction between the objective reality and the subjective acquisition, processing, and interpretation of that reality. Perhaps the landscape underscores a fundamental creation principle. Nature, and the beauties thereof, were not created in a vacuum; they were not created to exist simply for the sake of existing. They were created to be appreciated by man as the crowning apex of the order, which is simply another way of saying that they were created for the glory of God. When one renders a depiction of a scene, one transcends the "brute" facts, one transcends the trees, the water, the skyline, etc. and the mind is elevated to the form, to the meaning. Now, the artist's meaning may be little more than the ecstatic appreciation of sheer beauty. Nevertheless, beauty is meaningful, and it is only meaningful to a rational creature, a creature made in the image of the Divine. I submit that when man begins with the naturally objective and transforms it into a glorious work of subjective appreciation he is, by analogy, acting as would his God, he is idealizing, he is thinking thoughts that correspond to the Divine. Observe the painting again. Do not simply glance at it. Take it into your being. Notice the intimidating darkness and foreboding skies, which contrast dramatically with the light illuminating the trees. Unless you are a brute Philistine, this should stir something in your soul, it should stir an emotion, it should stir imagination, it should stir creativity, it should stir hope and peace. But, I believe that it is more than an emotion which you feel, it is a vestige of the Imago Dei.

Honor, Liberty, Truth

Ugly Faces and Lazy Thinking

2006-05-05T20:20:00.000-06:00

Picasso - "Woman with a Blue Hat"

Although I would not classify myself as a major fan, I like Picasso's work. I think some of his paintings are quite beautiful. I admire his creativity, skill, and use of color. Some say that he was severely overrated, but the fact that he was fashioned into some sort of modern demigod probably reveals more of the foolishness of modern times than it does of the artist himself.

I find this particular painting fascinating and aesthetically pleasing on a certain level, yet not in the least beautiful in appearance, apart from, perhaps, his use of bright, bold colors and clearly defined shapes. Actually, the painting is overtly grotesque. If I encountered a woman who looked like this on the street I would run away screaming like a little girl. Why would I find such a mug so repulsive and loathsome? Well, because it would be completely unnatural. As my nine year old son says when viewing this painting with a chuckle, "That's silly." A woman simply is not supposed to have her face peeled out like a flattened global map. "Ah," you say in an artistically pious and pompous tone, "but he is being abstract." This is true, if you define abstraction properly. Too often, "abstraction" is the resort of the truly desperate, the excuse claimed for all things artistically substandard or ridiculous. If you define abstraction as throwing colors mindlessly on a canvas to make a pretty (or not so pretty) picture, he was not abstract at all. If you define abstraction as something akin to mounting a urinal on a museum wall or displaying one's excrement in a glass jar, he was, again, not abstract at all. In fact, one could argue, and many have, that Picasso and others like him were radical realists, or failed realists, depending on your presuppositions. His school of cubism saw the forms of the subject in shapes and multiple perspectives. They captured these shapes and represented them on their canvases with the intention of seeing beyond the illusion of our limited perception into the very form of the subject itself from all perspectives at once. Thus, supposedly, the perception of the subject is formed and unified. What is the result of this "unification," this amalgam of all perspectives? Well, I fear it is demonstrably obvious that the result is a grotesque monstrosity, a woman with her face peeled off, a woman who does not look real at all. As I contemplate the image I wonder if Picasso's treatment of the subject changes the subject itself. Is the subject still a woman with a blue hat, when in fact the abstraction no longer truly resembles a woman with a blue hat? While there are certainly remnants of the original subject, or, perhaps more accurately, the object painted, it seems the imposed conception, the abstraction has led us to something else entirely. Perhaps this has rational implications by analogy. Perhaps the attempt to perceive a thing from all possible perspectives at once changes the subject of thought just as dramatically as it has changed the subject of Picasso's painting. Perhaps the attempt to unify perspectives has quite the opposite effect than the one intended. Perhaps the simultaneous unification of multiple perspectives is in fact irrational and results in a perversion and grotesque alteration of the matter. Perhaps I have used the word "perhaps" too much for one post. Picasso's various perspectives are not exactly false. The things depicted are parts of the whole, parts of the woman with a blue hat. Nevertheless, the parts are misapplied or misplaced. But, alas, life is not like a canvas. Ideas are no so easily manipulated as is paint by the brush of a master. Unfortunately, the more abstract or non-concrete the original subject, the less the subject is directly available to the senses, the greater the propensity for error. I suppose the problem is that nagging thing called reason which stubbornly tends to want to put things in their proper place. In reality, we must think rationally, our perception must correspond to the reality God has provided for us, otherwise we devolve into nonsense, madness, and confusion. We peel off faces, as it were, and distort the object of our reflection. It could be that what I am after is simply logical consistency. Various ideas may be true from a certain perspective, but if they are flung at the door of our minds haphazardly, the result is distortion and a radical changing of the subject. Apprehending the form or the essence of a thing, it turns out, may require truth and timely placement, it may require laborious, logical cogitation. Ideas must correspond to reality, in order to be true. They must be put in their proper place to be rightly understood.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Jesus Is a Kool Kat (Second Post)

2006-05-01T21:02:00.000-06:00

I originally posted this article over a year ago. Since it is a perennial issue, worthy of our constant thought and cogitation, I decided to post it again.

But we command you, brethren, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that you withdraw from every brother who walks disorderly and not according to the tradition which he received from us.

- Saint Paul (1 Thess 3:6)

I recently saw a television commercial for an independent, charismatic, mega-church, which declared to the targeted “unchurched” audience that, much like them, Jesus did not like the established religion of His day. This is obviously an attempt to attract those who find the traditions of historic Christianity to be irrelevant if not downright boring. Were this but one commercial for one seeker sensitive organization, I would hardly consider it worthwhile to oppose. However, the hackneyed sentiment behind the 60’s, non-conformist Jesus is really a basic tenant of doctrine for modern “evangelicalism.” The apostolic message of “Repent and believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and you shall be saved” is being quickly and tragically replaced by the Gospel of existential relationship. We are not saved by religion, so they say; we are saved by a relationship with Christ. Indeed, “religion” has become a word of profanity in the modern pulpit, as if it is the great enemy of true Christianity. Of course, by religion, they mean tradition (read learned, authoritative preaching), liturgy (read hymn singing and responsive reading), and ritual (read sacraments). Now, while acknowledging my own, obvious fallibility, I wonder just how biblical this sentimental Jesus, this non-conformist hater of all things traditional truly is. When the Lord was but twelve years old, while attending a religious feast, He was found listening to and asking questions of the theological leaders and teachers of His day. Far from condemning their dead orthodoxy and heady doctrinaire religion, He engaged them and further stated that such was the business of His Father (Luke 2:46-49). Jesus did not shun the religious gatherings of his day. Instead, He attended the quite liturgical and wholly traditional synagogue services. There He performed miracles (Mat. 12:9-10), taught (Mat. 13:54; Mar. 1:21), and publicly read Scripture (Luke 4:16). He performed no dances. He put on no dramas. He did not sweep aside the traditions in order to institute catchy tunes that would draw in the religiously ignorant. He simply and gladly participated in the non-manipulative traditions of the Jewish church. The Gospels also tell of Jesus attending the required feasts of the Jews. These feasts were replete with religious, traditional ceremonies. In fact, the Last Supper took place during the Passover meal and the traditional satre. It seems the only instances wherein the Lord criticizes tradition is when it defies reason or, more importantly, opposes or nullifies the Word of God, which any intelligent Christian worth his salt will affirm. I suppose someday the church will wake up and realize that this seeker-sensitive, non-conformist, hip Jesus is a figment of our imaginations, and the object of our own self-love, ignorance, and hubris. Feeling good and having warm fuzzy sensations is wonderful, but truth must not be sacrificed, for it is the truth that sets us free.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Human Humor

2006-04-25T18:21:00.000-06:00

Open the old cigar-box, get me a Cuba stout,
For things are running crossways, and Maggie and I are out.

We quarrelled about Havanas--we fought o'er a good cheroot,
And I knew she is exacting, and she says I am a brute.

Open the old cigar-box--let me consider a space;
In the soft blue veil of the vapour musing on Maggie's face.

Maggie is pretty to look at--Maggie's a loving lass,
But the prettiest cheeks must wrinkle, the truest of loves must pass.

There's peace in a Larranaga, there's calm in a Henry Clay;
But the best cigar in an hour is finished and thrown away--

Thrown away for another as perfect and ripe and brown--
But I could not throw away Maggie for fear o' the talk o' the town!

Maggie, my wife at fifty--grey and dour and old--
With never another Maggie to purchase for love or gold!

And the light of Days that have Been the dark of the Days that Are,
And Love's torch stinking and stale, like the butt of a dead cigar--

The butt of a dead cigar you are bound to keep in your pocket--
With never a new one to light tho' it's charred and black to the socket!

Open the old cigar-box--let me consider a while.
Here is a mild Manila--there is a wifely smile.

Which is the better portion--bondage bought with a ring,
Or a harem of dusky beauties, fifty tied in a string?

Counsellors cunning and silent--comforters true and tried,
And never a one of the fifty to sneer at a rival bride?

Thought in the early morning, solace in time of woes,
Peace in the hush of the twilight, balm ere my eyelids close,

This will the fifty give me, asking nought in return,
With only a Suttee's passion--to do their duty and burn.

This will the fifty give me. When they are spent and dead,
Five times other fifties shall be my servants instead.

The furrows of far-off Java, the isles of the Spanish Main,
When they hear my harem is empty will send me my brides again.

I will take no heed to their raiment, nor food for their mouths withal,
So long as the gulls are nesting, so long as the showers fall.

I will scent 'em with best vanilla, with tea will I temper their hides,
And the Moor and the Mormon shall envy who read of the tale of my brides.

For Maggie has written a letter to give me my choice between
The wee little whimpering Love and the great god Nick o' Teen.

And I have been servant of Love for barely a twelvemonth clear,
But I have been Priest of Cabanas a matter of seven year;

And the gloom of my bachelor days is flecked with the cheery light
Of stumps that I burned to Friendship and Pleasure and Work and Fight.

And I turn my eyes to the future that Maggie and I must prove,
But the only light on the marshes is the Will-o'-the-Wisp of Love.

Will it see me safe through my journey or leave me bogged in the mire?
Since a puff of tobacco can cloud it, shall I follow the fitful fire?

Open the old cigar-box--let me consider anew--
Old friends, and who is Maggie that I should abandon you?

A million surplus Maggies are willing to bear the yoke;
And a woman is only a woman, but a good Cigar is a Smoke.

Light me another Cuba--I hold to my first-sworn vows.
If Maggie will have no rival, I'll have no Maggie for Spouse!

--Rudyard Kipling, The Betrothed

No doubt, if you are a man, you are laughing. If you are a woman, you are not. Whatever the case, I do not post this poem to cause marital problems in your home or to muse on the comparative virtues of women and cigars. I post it as a sublime example of intelligent humor. Most men, even uppity moralists who pretend to be shocked at the thought of using tobacco, normally cannot hold back a chuckle as they read these words. The sentiments of the poem are hardly virtuous. They are hardly godly and morally stalwart. In fact, they were quite edgy, for their time, and almost risque in a calculatingly subtle sort of way. Nevertheless, they are wonderfully playful, undeniably intelligent, and undeniably funny. If you survey the humorous works of centuries past, you will notice that the style employed by Kipling is actually a common pattern, a stamp of old-fashioned, comedic thought. I describe this style, again, as calculatingly subtle. As another prime example, one should consider Dickens' Pickwick Papers. To the modern reader, the humor is too subtle to elicit a guffaw. Many modern readers would not really find the book funny at all. However, in their time, the papers were wildly popular and considered incredibly hilarious. The average 19th Century English reader simply gasped with anticipation for the next, tantalizing installment. The average English reader of today probably could not even read the novel, as it would be above their skill level. These works were not puritanical or repressively Victorian by any stretch of the imagination. Truly, one need look no further than Shakespeare. His words were even vulgar, his themes and innuendo were truly adult. Yet, even with that master, one still must employ the mind to grasp the risque meaning. It is difficult to ascertain why the sense of humor has changed so radically in the latter 20th and 21st Centuries, why we must be entertained with such mindless crudeness. However, I have a theory. I propose the change is a result of a change in social mores, a change in the standard to which we held one another as dignified human beings. To act in an uncouth, animalistic manner was simply unacceptable in time past, thus you had to figure out ways to compensate in order to produce humor and play on the inherently moving, human shock value. In our present day, a comedian is hardly likely to go a minute without resorting to rude expletives and even pornographic references. Not surprisingly, the same principle applies to the attraction of the opposite sex. There was a time when a woman simply had to display a bare wrist or an exposed neck in order to drive her suitors mad with desire. Now, a woman may not even turn a head while wearing a bikini at the beach. Granted, it is certain that the same lusts that exist in the hearts of modern men existed in the hearts of men long dead. The difference lies not in the people but in the social constructions which guided social interaction. The social mores of yesteryear did nothing if not conceal. The concealment required men, in their more earthly desires, to seek recourse in imagination, that is, to employ their minds over the direct, overt stimulation of the eyes and ears. Thus, even edgy humor and the silly games of young lovers resulted in a sort of intellectual stimulation. The concealment required subtlety, which was considered a basic aspect of humanity. I suppose I am saying that at least the sinners of yesteryear had the decency to sin with some intelligence and wit. Now we are stuck with the sin without the mental stimulation. I suppose if we are to sin, we should sin less like stupid dogs and more like intelligent humans.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

God is Power or Power is God

2006-04-15T16:49:00.000-06:00

All power is limited by definite boundaries and laws. No power is absolute, infinite, unbridled, arbitrary, and lawless. Every power is bound to laws, right, and equity.

--Johannes Althusius

As George Washington said, "Government is not reason, it is not eloquence, it is force; like fire, a troublesome servant and a fearful master." Power is like fire. It must have limitations and a defining context or it ceases to be useful for its constructive end and becomes destructive, arbitrary, and cruel. As I have said before, however, it is not power itself that is wicked or corrupting. Divinity possesses absolute power, yet Divinity is not thereby corrupted. Human power must be bridled, not because of the nature of power, but because of the nature of humanity. Power is an expression of the nature of Divinity, for Divinity is All-powerful. It is an attribute of the nature of God. Man is not powerful by nature. He possesses no power apart from that entrusted to him by God. Thus, God is the Author of all power, for it flows from Himself, and He uses it for His own purposes, which are always good. Man does not author power. Instead, he abuses it, he consumes it, he seeks it as an end in itself, not using it as a necessary means to obtain a good end but as a tool to satiate his lust for more power. Much like Orwell's Big Brother, we tend to invert the truth. We tend to reject the idea that God is power. We prefer to believe that Power is God. It is our idol. It is the god which we have fashioned with our gold and molded into an image acceptable by our fallen standards. It is a demanding, fearsome god, a god which consumes us, causing us to negate the rights of our fellow man, commanding us to hate, devour, and mercilessly kill one another. The sea of human blood sacrificed to this god throughout history is unfathomable, and the tributary rivers seem never to grow dry. This is the result when power, in the human context, is not limited by the boundaries God has set forth in revealed and natural law. It must be limited, or the fire will consume us. It must be limited by truth, by agreement, by understanding, by rational implementation of divine definition. In short, it must be limited by a covenant based upon divine law.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

The Idolatrous Stupor

2006-04-02T20:46:00.000-06:00

Idolatry is committed, not merely by setting up false gods, but also by setting up false devils; by making men afraid of war or alcohol, or economic law, when they should be afraid of spiritual corruption and cowardice.

- G.K. Chesterton

Humans, almost inevitably, want to avoid the essence of a thing itself. Contemplating and dealing with the essential is difficult. It requires thought and abstraction. It requires dealing with uncomfortable, unseen realities that can be much more real, and, for that matter, much more frightening, than concrete objects. For instance, it would be much easier for me to erect a beautiful statue in my home and call it my god. Of course by doing so, I would divorce my religious energy from true, essential Divinity. Nevertheless, my religious actions and devotion to my statue would make me feel very pious and fuzzy all over. When good things happened to me, I could say that the merciful statue had opened his hand of blessing. When bad things happened I could conclude that I had somehow displeased the statue and renew the vigor of my piety. Or, I could trash the statue and get a new one. Certainly this would be religion in its basest, rudest, crudest and most primitive form, but it is very human. We want to find divinity in what we can see with our eyes and touch with our hands. We want a god which we can look in the face, a god that is fashioned after our own image, plays by our rules, and functions in accordance with our notions of what a god ought to do. We want to control our god, to keep him in our domain, sometimes literally, but, more often, figuratively. If I am busy ascribing worth (i.e. worshipping) my idol, I will not have the time or inclination to concern myself with true Divinity. Thus, I can conveniently render the true God irrelevant within my subjective reality, at least for a time. However, as Chesterton, observes, we do this not only with our gods, but with our devils. Just as we avoid the truly Divine, so we also avoid the truly evil. We do not want to concern ourselves with the essence or principle of sin. We would much rather deal with sins in the concrete. Spiritual corruption, the evil principle found in my soul, is too intellectually overwhelming, too negative, too disturbing. I cannot take a knife and cut out my sin. But, I can deal with sins. I can cut off the hand that offends or pluck out the wayward eye. I can launch moral crusades against the evils of watching lurid television programs, knowing full well it is the lust in our hearts that is the real problem, that the program is an effect, not a cause of human degeneration. I can rail against alcohol, knowing full well that it is our tendency to abuse every element in this world for our own destruction that is the real problem. In fact, I can find evil lurking in any object I please, as long as I do not have to look within myself to find the true essence of my depravity. As long as evil is found in the object, I can find it, I can attack it, I can blame it. But, if I am unlucky enough to come to the realization that the objects are just objects, that the real essence of sin is not in the things abused, but in my soul, I can no longer attack sin as a foreign element. Now I have to own it. Now I have to deal with it. Worse still, now I have to deal with God, for I stand before His all knowing, ever watchful eye not as a person who sins, but as a sinful person. I stand before the Judge of all the Earth with sin in my very being. Suddenly, all my false gods and all my false demons fade into a meaningless haze, and I stand open, naked, and undone before the One with whom I have to give an account. Thus, we have a choice. We can work ourselves into an idolatrous stupor, ignoring the essence of good and evil, ignoring the true spiritual realities of life. Or, we can deal with the God who is, the God before whom we will all stand in the Last Day. I recommend the latter.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Accidents and Purpose

2006-03-29T19:35:00.000-07:00

There are many weird twists of fate in the strange life of Adolf Hitler, but none more odd than this one which took place thirteen years before his birth. Had the eighty-four-year-old wandering miller [Hitler's paternal grandfather] not made his un-expected reappearance to recognize the paternity of his thirty-nine-year old son [Hitler's father] nearly thirty years after the death of the mother, Adolf Hitler would have been born Adolf Schicklgruber. There may not be much or anything in a name, but I have heard Germans speculate whether Hitler could have become the master of Germany had he been known to the world as Schicklgruber. It has a slightly comic sound as it rolls off the tongue of a South German. Can one imagine the frenzied German masses acclaiming a Schicklgruber with their thunderous "Heils"? "Heil Schicklgruber!"? Not only was "Heil Hitler!" used as a Wagnerian, paganlike chant by the multitude in the mystic pageantry of the massive Nazi rallies, but it became the obligatory form of greeting between Germans during the Third Reich, even on the telephone, where it replaced the conventional "Hello." "Heil Schicklgruber!"? It is a little difficult to imagine.

- William Shirer (from The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich)

Indeed, it is difficult to imagine. In fact, without the aggressive sounding name, nifty salutes, and colorful symbols, it is unlikely that Hitler could have formed the national cult which changed the face of the globe and altered global politics, probably for centuries to come. It is fascinating to me how little we actually have control of our lives. For instance, were it not for Hitler's illegitimate father being claimed by Johann Georg Hiedler, I myself probably would not exist. I am a "Gen Xer" born in 1974 from two parents who were born in 1947, the height of the baby boom. If my grandfathers, may God rest their souls, were not off fighting the Germans and Japanese, my parents would probably have been born in different years. More to the point, my parents, as they are in being, would not have existed at all, as the difference in time would necessarily mean a difference in genetic makeup. My father would not be my father, as he is. My mother would not be my mother, as she is. They would not have met in college. Hence, it is reasonable to assume that I would never have existed. Of course, you can multiply the historical contingencies ad infinitum. We fancy that our wills are completely free. We fancy that we are in control of our lives, the captains of our vessels, the authors of our fate. Yet, I did not choose for Hitler to rise to power. I did not choose for my parents to be born in 1947 as an unintended result of the war which he began. I did not choose that they meet in college. I did not choose to be born in 1974. I did not choose to be white. I did not choose to be an American. I did not choose to be born into the middle class. I did not choose to be born to a Christian family. In short, I did not choose many of the fundamental factors that make me, well, me. One could lose themselves in the irony of infinite contingencies, shrug their shoulders, and assume the world is a result of random chance. Of course, in doing so, one surrenders all meaning and purpose. On the other hand, if one assumes the existence of the Divine, the presence of a rational, sovereign Being, guiding and directing all seemingly arbitrary circumstances, like a brilliant cosmic orchestra conductor leading His historical opus to a culminating crescendo, suddenly, chance is thrown aside, and purpose and meaning are once again infused into our otherwise pathetic existence as individuals and our existence collectively in this world. I do not set this forth as an intellectual proof for the existence of God. I merely submit at the door of your mind that the theistic worldview makes a difference on many levels. One level regards how I view myself. It is the difference between believing I am a freak accident, clawing blindly for some concept of subjective purpose and believing that I exist for an objective reason. This, I daresay, is surely a meaningful distinction.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

The Dullness of the Creedless (Second Post)

2006-03-20T22:09:00.000-07:00

First Posted November 11, 2004.

The world is round, so round that the schools of optimism and pessimism have been arguing from the beginning whether it is the right way up. The difficulty does not arise so much from the mere fact that good and evil are mingled in roughly equal proportions; it arises chiefly from the fact that men always differ about what parts are good and what parts are evil. Hence, the difficulty which besets "undenominational religions." They profess to include what is beautiful in all creeds, but they appear to many to have collected all that is dull in them.

G.K. Chesterton

Unfortunately, when you grow up you have to come to the rather intrusive and uncomfortable realization that you must make decisions. You see, as the mind becomes more disciplined, it becomes rude and refuses to allow us to hold mutually exclusive ideas simultaneously. Thus, it is natural to the stubbornly functional intellect to go through a continuing process of judgment. Yes, I did use the "J" word. I will use other such horribly intolerant vulgarities such as "truth" and "creed" so please shield the eyes of your young readers, lest we infest their minds with logical consistency and common sense. As I was saying, the mind naturally judges, that is it distinguishes between ideas and assigns certain values to them based largely upon one's adopted standard, which, in turn is determined largely by one's worldview. As Chesteron observes, the problem of drastic difference of opinion is not a factual problem. It is not that the pessimist and the optimist, or the Buddhist and the Mormon, or the Muslim and the Christian have different facts upon which to base their decisions. It is much more a question of value assignment and intellectual judgment. For instance, to the radical Muslim, hacking off the heads of frightened, weeping, defenseless women is very good. To the radical Christian, such an act is very bad. You see, it is not even a question of radicalness, as if all things not "moderate" are inherently evil. It is, again, a question of judgment. Now, for one to arbitrarily decide to take what is good from all religions and combine them into some sort of "super religion" is incredibly asinine, because from the outset one must establish criteria for value judgment. In other words, in order to filter the creeds, one must establish a creed, whether written or unwritten (normally the latter), with which to judge the value of certain elements of the other creeds. Normally the quest devolves into a bloody hack job on the most interesting aspects of each religion, aspects that are interesting precisely because they are distinctive, controversial, sometimes uncomfortable, and, at least, thought provoking. Those things to which the devout religious adherent holds with profound zeal are dismissed as divisive, and, therefore, undesirable. The result is, as Chesteron observes, a horrid dullness. A creed without conviction is a creed without life. Of course, the world has its share of such "super religions" that attempt to combine the good from all creeds for the perpetual celebration of the brotherhood of humanity, or some such ridiculous nonsense. These have been dismal, although amusing, failures, for the most part, because you must remove all things interesting and thus render the religion an absolute bore. Nobody wants a boring religion. Lack of conviction will not get you up for morning worship, although I am not sure how worship would apply anyway. Some great zealots of tolerance have noticed this and have attempted to keep the interesting things in their combined creed. The problem with this is that the things in question are interesting because they are unique truth claims. As unique, they very often involve a great deal of controversy. Let me offer another example. The Muslims believe that the prophet Mohammed was inspired of God. As an inspired prophet, he lends divine sanction to wife beating. Whatever your thought on religious wife beating, you must admit this is a very interesting and noteworthy detail of their religion. The Christian does not claim wife beating as a discipline of piety. Why not? Well, because the Christian does not believe Mohammed was inspired of God. In fact, most Christians believe he was a blood thirsty, powermongering, hell-bound heretic who probably soaked in a bit too much of the desert sun, if you know what I mean. This is where that tenaciously nasty brain comes in again. I cannot both believe that Mohammed was inspired of God and that Mohammed was not inspired of God without sacrificing my intelligence and playing the utter fool. The ideas are mutually exclusive. But, the idea that Mohammed was inspired is the very essence of Islam and the very thing from which all the interesting and juicy details are deduced. Once Mohammed is determined to be a false prophet or a cook, Islam falls on its face as completely and utterly irrelevant as an impetus for thought and practice. Likewise, Christianity stands as a vibrant faith or falls as petty moralism, subjectively speaking, depending on one's judgment concerning the divinity of Christ. So, to believe in the equality of all religions, or to accept some sort of combined creed, I must either become painfully boring or breathtakingly stupid. Neither of these options is attractive to most stubbornly serious minds.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

The Eternal City

2006-03-12T18:37:00.000-07:00

Glorious things of thee are spoken,
Zion, city of our God!
He, Whose Word cannot be broken,
Formed thee for His own abode.
On the Rock of Ages founded,
What can shake thy sure repose?
With salvation's walls surrounded,
Thou may'st smile at all thy foes.

Savior, if of Zion's City,
I through grace a member am,
Let the world deride or pity,
I will glory in Thy name.
Fading is the worlding's pleasure,
All his boasted pomp and show;
Solid joys and lasting treasure
None but Zion's children know.

- John Newton

Indeed, nothing can shake the sure repose of Zion, the City founded on the Rock of Ages. The walls of divine salvation surround it, none may enter but those who are friends of the King, those who submissively and loyally kiss the Son. The foes stand without, foolishly storming the impenetrable walls, boasting in their savage power, yet, nevertheless, awaiting their sure destruction, thoroughly unaware of their impending doom. The City of God is an eternal city and will not be overpowered by the minions of darkness, though minions there may be. Ironically, it is just when the enemies of Christ seem strongest, that the beloved, long awaited Lord shall return and vex them in His sore displeasure. He shall break the nations with a rod of iron and dash them to pieces like a potter's vessel. The citizens of the Eternal City must not be fooled by the illusions of worldy power. God has declared the decree, it cannot be altered. He has installed His King on the holy hill of Zion, and blessed are all those who put their trust in Him. The vain imaginations of the enemies of Christ will not deliver them when the King returns to settle His accounts. Their visions and dreams are fleeting, like a vapor which vanishes in the wind. They will call upon their idols which they have erected in their hearts according to their own image, but those idols will not avail them, they will not answer, for they are but figments of folly.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Don't Tread on Me

2006-02-25T11:58:00.000-07:00

Stand fast therefore in the liberty by which Christ has made us free, and do not be entangled again with a yoke of bondage.

- St. Paul (Gal. 5:1)

Notice, this is not merely advice. This is an apostolic command inspired by Holy Spirit and carrying the authority of the Living God. Paul is raising a spiritual Gadsden flag. The Christian is commanded to stand fast in the liberty championed and secured for him by none other than the blessed and eternal Lord Jesus Christ Himself. He whom the Son sets free is free indeed. To the Christian, this glorious liberty is not for sale, and it is not relinquished to a spiritual oppressor without a spiritual fight. It is something that must be held dear, protected, and defended at all costs.

Now, I am quite aware that Paul is not addressing political liberty in this passage or anywhere else in the Epistle to the Galatians. However, I submit that the same spiritual principle applied by the apostle in the Kingdom of Christ can be applied in the context of the Kingdom of this world. If the Christian is expected to employ heavenly weapons to defend his God-given spiritual liberty, then would it not follow that man is expected to employ earthly weapons to defend his God-given earthly liberty? If the Christian is to stand fast, holding firm his ground of freedom precisely because that ground was conquered by Christ, then, if indeed man is endowed by his Creator with certain inalienable rights, it would seem reasonable that these rights and liberties are equally as precious within the limitations of the temporal context. Natural revelation, rightly and biblically understood, is no less authoritative than special revelation. Natural law is no less binding than biblical law, because it comes from the same source. There is certain ground that God has claimed for Himself alone. The minds and hearts of men remain the property of the sovereign King. The earthly ruler who would claim absolute reign over his subjects is a usurper of the Divine Potentate, raising his banner on forbidden ground. When a legitimate authority issues a lawful call to arms in defense of divine right, the Christian is duty bound to answer that call, he is bound to resist, he is bound to strike the heel of his oppressor.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

A Prize Worth the Price (Second Post)

2006-02-13T21:47:00.000-07:00

Self righteousness has been on my mind lately, and on the mind of many of my closest brethren. Therefore, I decided to post "A Prize Worth the Price" once again. It was originally published on this blog in November of 2004.

Kumalo said humbly, "Maybe you will pray for me."

"I shall do it gladly. My brother, I have of course my work to do, but so long as you are here, my hands are yours."

"You are kind."

Something in the humble voice must have touched Msimangu, for he said, "I am not kind. I am a selfish and sinful man, but God put his hands on me, that is all."

- Excerpt from Cry, the Beloved Country by Alan Paton

Msimangu is on to something. This is probably the heart of the Christian religion. As the English Prayerbook articulates the same utterly profound, divine insight: "There is no health in us." Sooner or later we all must come to terms with the fact that self righteousness is not a Christian virtue. Am I kind? No, I am a selfish and sinful man, but God put his hand on me, that is all. Am I a natural confessor of the true religion? No, I am a selfish and sinful man, but God put his hand on me, that is all. Am I a good father and a good husband? No, I am a selfish and sinful man, but God put his hand on me, that is all. Wow! If we would but grasp this one, simple, heart-wrenching, patently obvious truth, I believe a wealth of wisdom would be cultivated in our souls, and the vast majority of modern and ancient heretical bastions would crumble to dust. You see, the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and the fear of the Lord is fundamentally rooted in the knowledge of the awful holiness of God. As creatures studying our Creator, knowledge of God must inform knowledge of ourselves. So, correspondingly, as we compare ourselves with Him, as He becomes the standard, knowledge of His holiness ought to result in a realization of our own deplorable depravity. It ought to cause us to overcome our incredible blindness and finally see that we are but selfish and sinful men, and there is no health in us. If you have not yet realized this, then you have not yet met God. There is but one Living and True God, and He will not tolerate our complacency. Unfortunately, we are so completely self-involved and narcissistic that we are constantly tempted to turn men into themselves, to examine themselves only and, somehow, mend their ways. We are tempted to look around us and derive our "righteousness" from the forms and principles of this world. I say, we are not looking high enough. If we would turn our attention to the beauty of the Holy One and allow His image to be impressed upon our souls, if we would play the man and bare our spirits to the branding iron of Christ, our hard hearts would melt, our pretensions would not withstand the heat, and, I daresay, we would finally get it. Indeed, it will sear. No doubt, it will be painful. But, it will cause us to see the truth, which is a prize worth any price.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

I Am, Therefore I Think

2006-02-05T18:36:00.000-07:00

Thinking follows from existence; it does not make things so.

- John Senior (From: The Death of Christian Culture)

I have a horrible confession to make...it will shock you...prepare yourself...here it goes...I sometimes watch American Idol. There, I said it. I know, I know, it is silly, inane, ridiculous, and so entirely enslaved to the mindless pop culture that no man of any intelligence should find it entertaining. Yet, I watch it nonetheless. I think what I like most about it is the behavior of the contestants. It is simply amazing to me how psychotic young people have become. Many of the pathetic young men and women are truly crushed when they are rejected. Often, they become extremely angry and deride the judges and, indeed, the entire world. They simply know they can sing, even if everyone else on the planet would prefer the sound of fingernails drawn across a chalkboard. They have a dream, you see, and they will follow their dream. They have accepted the tinkerbell theology of Oprah Winfrey and Walt Disney that if you believe hard enough, your dreams will come true. Unfortunately, for them, their dream does not resonate with the real world. There is a real world, after all, a reality that has been decreed by the authority of the Almighty God. We must deal with what is, we must submit to the sovereignty of God willingly, or we will be made to submit under the hard, crushing blow of truth. Thinking or wishing something does not make it so. "I think, therefore I am" is absurd. In truth, we are, by the creation and decree of the Living God, therefore we think. We can choose to believe absurdities, we can choose to chase a fleeting dream, but in so doing we deny our own being as creatures and fancy ourselves divine.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

The "Open Minded" Wretch (Second Post)

2006-01-29T22:46:00.000-07:00

I posted the following over a year ago regarding those who refuse to take a stand. Our modern world admires the undecided. I tend to think otherwise...

Here sighs and cries and shrieks of lamentation
echoed throughout the starless air of Hell;
at first these sounds resounding made me weep:
tongues confused, a language strained in anguish
with cadences of anger, shrill outcries
and raucous groans that joined with sounds of hands,

raising a whirling storm that turns itself
forever through that air of endless black,
like grains of sand swirling when a whirlwind blows.

And I, in the midst of all this circling horror,
began, "Teacher, what are these sounds I hear?
What souls are these so overwhelmed by grief?"

And he to me: "This wretched state of being
is the fate of those sad souls who lived a life
but lived it with no blame and with no praise.

They are mixed with that repulsive choir of angels
neither faithful nor unfaithful to their God,
who undecided stood but for themselves.

Heaven, to keep its beauty, cast them out,
but even hell itself would not receive them,
for fear the damned might glory over them.

"And I. "Master, what torments do they suffer
that force them to lament so bitterly?
"he answered: "I will tell you in few words:

these wretches have no hope of truly dying,
and this blind life they lead is so abject
it makes them envy every other fate.

The world will not record their having been there;
Heaven's mercy and its justice turn from them.
Let's not discuss them; look and pass them by.

"And so I looked and saw a kind of banner
rushing ahead, whirling with aimless speed
as though it would not ever take a stand;

behind it an interminable train
of souls pressed on, so many that I wondered
how death could have undone so great a number.

- Dante Alighieri From The Divine Comedy, Vol. 1, Inferno, Translated by Mark Musa, Copyright held by Indiana University Press, 1972

Isn't this curious? The poor poet hardly recovers his breath after complaining about Hell's "welcome" sign, which contains the famous "Abandon every hope, all ye who enter," when he encounters this horrid scene. Aside from the obvious aesthetic value of the verses, did you notice who these people are? They are confused. They wander aimlessly, hopelessly in an eternal circle. They are exposed to no beauty. They are not even permitted the stimulation of the ugly, for they swirl in blackness, nothingness, meaninglessness. Neither are they given the satisfaction of a true death, for they did not truly live. Hell itself scorns them. The poet's wise guide Virgil concludes that they are not worthy of our attention. Who are they? Why, they are the undecided, the non-judgmental, the "open-minded." They do not decide for good or for evil. They refuse to judge about such things. They follow a banner which never takes a stand.Are you confused? After all, are not those who are smart enough to realize that there really is no such thing as "truth" the real intellectual heroes of the modern world? Isn't the rational man to be always open-minded, and isn't reason exercised best in endless inquiry? We admire those today who talk about objectivity and refuse to allow themselves to become excited about any ideal or concept of Absolute. As the open-minded ghost in C.S. Lewis' The Great Divorce states, "To travel hopefully is better than to arrive." Of course, let us not forget the answer given by that spirit's wise guide, "If that were true, and known to be true, how could anyone travel hopefully? There would be nothing to hope for." Indeed, they had a word for the eternally undecided in Dante's day--Coward. Honor requires us to pursue and attain truth. However, once gained, honor requires us to be steadfast and resolute. As Thomas Paine said, "'Tis the business of little minds to shrink; but he whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves his conduct, will pursue his principles unto death." This is harsh, you say? No, I say it is courage.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Silly Songs and Heavenly Worship

2006-01-27T22:35:00.000-07:00

Worship is the human being's highest function. We were created to glorify God, as was all else that was made. To glorify God is to reveal who He is. God is so great and so good that to talk about who He is and what He has done is inherently to praise Him. Worship then must be focused on who God is and what He has done, as the Psalmist tells us- Praise Him for His mighty acts! Praise Him according to His excellent greatness (Psalm 150:2)!

- Matthew Powell (www.wheatchaff.blogspot.com) (not dead, by the way, but very much alive)

It is not without significance, I must admit, that the New Testament records no order of worship or any worship service actually being performed in the earthly church setting. This allows for a bit of freedom in Christian services, which may vary from culture to culture, from time to time, and from place to place. However, in the Revelation of Saint John, we are given a small glimpse into the heavenly court, a glorious window through which we can peer in our anxious thirst for guidance. Oddly, and interestingly, this heavenly worship is suprisingly...well...liturgical. Everyone is not doing his own thing. All are engaged in expressing truths about the blessed Christ and responding to one another in unison. Praises are echoed by the tongues of human and angel alike, the Lamb is exalted as His efficacious work on behalf of men is remembered, magnified, and held in awe, a far cry from the naval gazing and hand waving of modern evangelical worship. Any style of praise that causes us to focus on our emotions or feelings of blessing simply and profoundly misses the point. Any worship music that manipulates the emotions and conjures tears through use of certain chords and repetitive mantras bypasses the spiritual to cater to the flesh. Too often, yes too often, we exchance our spiritual inheritance for a pot of fleshly porridge. God, God is our goal. If we do not glorify Him, then our efforts, superficially called worship, are nothing more than idolatry.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Common Sense

2006-01-21T14:59:00.000-07:00

A man who had never been christened, an honest Anabaptist named Jacques, was witness to the cruel and ignominious treatment showed to one of his brethren, to a rational featherless biped. Moved with pity he carried him to his house, caused him to be cleaned, gave him meat and drink, and made him a present of two florins, at the same time proposing to instruct him in his own trade of weaving Persian silks, which are fabricated in Holland. Candide, faced with so much goodness, threw himself at his feet, crying, "Now I am convinced that my Master Pangloss told me truth when he said that everything was for the best in this world; for I am infinitely more affected with your extraordinary generosity than with the inhumanity of that gentleman in the black cloak and his wife."

The next day, as Candide was walking out, he met a beggar all covered with scabs, his eyes sunk in his head, the end of his nose eaten off, his mouth drawn on one side, his teeth as black as a cloak, snuffling and coughing most violently, and every time he attempted to spit out dropped a tooth.

Candide, divided between compassion and horror, but giving way to the former, bestowed on this shocking figure the two florins which the honest Anabaptist Jacques, had just before given to him. The specter looked at him very earnestly, shed tears and threw his arms about his neck. Candide started back aghast.

"Alas!" said the one wretch to the other, "don't you know dear Pangloss?"

- Voltaire (from Candide)

Voltaire's short novel, Candide, is a scathing criticism of the ridiculous idea that this present world is the best of all possible worlds. Poor Candide, ever faithful to his philosophical master, attempts to hold this position while enduring one terrible catastrophe after another. Alas, even his master, Pangloss, is reduced to the destitute state described above, yet he does not surrender his position. It is humorous and quite effective. By the conclusion of the book, the point should be well taken and the absurdity of the view targeted should be obvious to all. Of course, being Voltaire, he takes many side potshots at Christianity of various kinds throughout the work. However, these diversionary, sarcastic glances are aimed more at deplorable practices than doctrine.

Whatever we think of Voltaire, his book ought to cause us to take pause and acknowledge that, generally speaking, any view contrary to common sense is probably not true. Many intellectuals have to go to school for years and read mountains of books before they can be convinced of much of the nonsense they audaciously and arrogantly spout. As C.S. Lewis observed, some philosophers spend their lives asking questions which any common man could answer with very little effort. Now, this does not mean that whatever we think by default must be the paradigm by which we judge all truth. It does mean that the patently absurd is just that--patently absurd. Of course, latent absurdity is a more complicated thing and requires the implementation of more sophisticated reasoning skills. Herein lies the balance between common sense and the intellectual capacities of the educated. Some ideas require inquiry before their absurdity can be discovered. Other ideas merit very little other than laughter. Some issues require questions. On the other hand, with some issues, if you have to ask questions, you obviously just don't get it.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

What Dreams May Come

2006-01-15T17:04:00.000-07:00

I was sorry to have my name mentioned as one of the great authors, because they have a sad habit of dying off. Chaucer is dead, Spencer is dead, so is Milton, so is Shakespeare, and I'm not feeling so well myself.

- Mark Twain

It is an obvious, macabre fact, but one we too often, conveniently ignore. Everyone dies. The great men of the past are all dead. Their bodies, perhaps once adorned with the most beautiful and extravagant clothing, are now decomposing in the soil or, by now, completely returned to dust. The great authors of the past have no more words to pen. The great musicians play no more, write no more, hear no more. The Grave waits for us. His mouth gapes, ready to receive us. His hunger for souls is never satisfied. We have a date with death, and he will not be "stood up." We owe a debt, and the grim creditor will come to collect his due. It is, truly, only a matter of time. Thus, I often stand in wonder at the complacency and barbarous, material preoccupations of man. I can understand why one may wonder what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil. I can understand one having difficulty deciding on the most convincing explanation of the afterlife. What I cannot understand is the one who is so completely consumed with earthly and material things that he does not even wonder, he does not pause and question, he does not dread of something after death, he does not give thought to the undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns. Of course, whether or not a man concerns himself with such questions, this does not change death's relentless intentions. Death will come for us all. Death will have us all. I suppose death will truly be like a dream for these people. Rather, I suspect it will be much like the state between full consciousness and sleep, when all is confusion, when we know not our surroundings and bearings, and all seems unreal. What dreams may come? We may not agree on the answer, but we should all at least be curious.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Vain Babbling

2006-01-06T19:01:00.000-07:00

An inability to stay quiet is one of the conspicuous failings of mankind.

- Walter Bagehot

Do not be rash with your mouth, And let not your heart utter anything hastily before God. For God is in heaven, and you on earth; Therefore let your words be few. For a dream comes through much activity, And a fool's voice is known by his many words.

- Ecclesiastes 5:2-3

And when you pray, do not use vain repetitions as the heathen do. For they think that they will be heard for their many words. Therefore do not be like them. For your Father knows the things you have need of before you ask Him.

- Jesus Christ (Matthew 6:7-8)

I am a big believer in short prayers. I see no reason why God would be interested in my vain, nonsensical, inane, and foolish babbling. You see, as a vain, nonsensical, inane, and foolish, not to mention sinful, son of Adam, my speech, if left unchecked and unabated, will naturally devolve to reflect my nature. With many words come foolishness, dreams, idolatry in imagination. This is precisely why it is the wise man who keeps his tongue in restraint and allows his words to be few. Yet, we are all guilty of uttering too many words in prayer. We have all heard the public prayer that seems unending in its stupidity or pomp. Curiously, we also seem to have a silly idea ingrained in our minds that praying for a long time is a very spiritual thing. The most spiritual people, we assume, must pray for hours on end in their closets, for, after all, that is what spiritual people do. Of course, most of us have no idea what on earth one would talk about in such a one-sided conversation for so long, but we shrug our shoulders and assume this is due to our inferior level of piety. I have often heard it lamented that surveys have revealed the average pastor prays less than ten minutes a day in his private worship. Frankly, I fail to see why this should be troublesome. Perhaps, just perhaps, we ought to be more concerned with the words uttered than the amount of them. As I ponder the Scriptures I cannot think of one example of a long prayer. They are all short, to the point, and rather pithy without sacrificing profundity, reverence, and restraint. The very example given to us by Christ Himself, often called "The Lord's Prayer," is nothing if not short. In fact, the longest biblical prayer I can think of is that of Christ in John 17. Yet, even that utterly beautiful and rapturous intercession by our High Priest can easily be uttered in under ten minutes. Even at His lowest hour, in the Garden of Gethsemane, while sweating great drops of blood in grief and agony, Christ did not pace the Mount of Olives waxing super-spiritual, exuding an unrestrained plethora of words. He simply prayed three times the same thing: "O My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will." Oh well, perhaps someone should have told the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, the Almighty God Incarnate that at such a momentous event, directly before His horrifying crucifixion, He should have said a bit more if He really wanted to be an effective prayer warrior.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Paradise Lost

2005-12-29T13:30:00.000-07:00

We don't need more people writing Christian books. We need more Christians writing good books.

- C.S. Lewis

There is truly nothing more embarrassing to me as a Christian than the average Christian book store. With few exceptions, I would not pay a nickel for the whole inventory of books, music, and other paraphernalia. Of course, if one is into substandard fiction with the philosophical and theological weight of a paper clip, dapper looking con men with their get rich quick schemes, 1001 ways to boost one's self esteem, and pseudo-psychological, inane formulas for happy and joyous, yet thoroughly shallow, living, then one may disagree. I may roll my eyes and sigh, but, hey, to each his own. However, as we survey the intellectual wasteland of our modern, American, "Christian," copycat subculture, let us not forget that the greatest literature, music, and art of the western world was once produced by Christian men, or at least by men functioning within the context of a Christian epistemology and worldview. These men were not copying the world in order to appeal to a strange and obscure evangelical market sector. Instead, they moved and shook the world itself with their brilliance and beauty. As we tap our feet to the music of the latest, pathetically sad, "Christian" attempt at relevancy, let us remember that Handel once penned his glorious and extremely popular "Messiah" oratorio in just 28 hours. Let us remember that the works of Bach, arguably the greatest pieces of music ever devised, were each dedicated to the sole glory of the Living God. As we pay our $12.95 for that recent self esteem book written by the super-mega-really big-church guy with a million dollar smile, let us remember a sickly and somber looking young man named John Calvin once produced an intellectual earthquake when he published the Institutes of the Christian Religion at the mere age of 23. As we wipe away a tear contemplating that sentimental picture of Jesus giving some grungy looking guy a big ol' hug, let us remember the lost look in the eyes of Rembrandt's "Rich Man from the Parable" or the detailed grandeur of his "Song of Simeon." As we leaf through those works of fiction which have left behind much more than unraptured heathen, let us remember Milton, Austen, Dostoevsky, Bronte, Chaucer, Shakespeare, Carroll, Tolstoy, Dante, Kipling, Dickens, Lewis, Tolkien, and so many, many others. Indeed, we do not need more kitsch cluttering the evangelical ghetto. We need more Christian artists who will once again astound the world with their brilliance, a brilliance drawn from the blinding light of our Beloved Christ.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

The Mighty Fortress of Our Faith

2005-12-26T20:04:00.000-07:00

A puritan is a person who pours righteous indignation into the wrong things.

- G.K. Chesterton

I am an adherent of biblical, historical, Christian, Reformed orthodoxy, but I am not a puritan. Although the puritans have been, no doubt, the subjects of questionable historical revisionism and unfortunate selective treatment, Chesterton's words ring all too true and applicable to the movement, both in its past and present varieties. Puritans are often well intentioned, but they also seem to concentrate their energies overwhelmingly and obnoxiously on those things which are most controversial and which matter least. The breathtakingly beautiful gem of the Reformed movement is its Gospel as interpreted through the conquering doctrines of pure, unmitigated, divine grace. This Gospel is the soul and lifeblood of the Reformation, the very marrow of our spiritual bone. To use a bit of Tolkien imagery, it is the Minas Tirith of Gondor. Its fall would mean the inevitable destruction of the entire realm. Too often, puritans would urge us to deploy our intellectual troops to less significant and indecisive ground, leaving the otherwise impenetrable walls and towers of our bastion free to the plunder of the enemy. The Reformed must rally to the standard of the Gospel, for against this standard the hosts of hell have no power. I am convinced that when this standard is held high, the enemies will retreat from the outer fields and make our advance much easier and more natural. We must cling to Christ. The Champion of our faith will conquer the hearts of His people. The terrible sword which proceeds from His mouth will destroy His enemies in the outer rims of His realm. The brightness of His countenance which shines as the sun in His strength will cause the minions of darkness to cower in fear. If we abandon the sure standard and march ourselves to The Holy War of the Minors, we are already defeated.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

On Holiday Censorship and Roaring Mice

2005-12-20T19:36:00.000-07:00

Christ, by highest Heav'n adored;
Christ the everlasting Lord;
Late in time, behold Him come,
Offspring of a virgin's womb.
Veiled in flesh the Godhead see;
Hail th' incarnate Deity,
Pleased with us in flesh to dwell,
Jesus our Emmanuel.

Hail the heav'nly Prince of Peace!
Hail the Sun of Righteousness!
Light and life to all He brings,
Ris'n with healing in His wings.
Mild He lays His glory by,
Born that man no more may die.
Born to raise the sons of earth,
Born to give them second birth.

Come, Desire of nations, come,
Fix in us Thy humble home;
Rise, the woman's conqu'ring Seed,
Bruise in us the serpent's head.
Now display Thy saving power,
Ruined nature now restore;
Now in mystic union join
Thine to ours, and ours to Thine.

- Charles Wesley

No doubt every reader is aware of the raging, current controversies over holiday season greetings. This may come as a rude shock to some, but I personally do not care what a person wishes me during the month of December. Whether one prefers "Happy Holidays," "Seasons Greetings," or "Merry Christmas," it does not change the glorious reality of the incarnation of the Son of the Living God. Of course, the politically correct nonsense is, admittedly, utterly absurd. The untold profits of the retail industry are not generated by Ramadan, Hanukkah, or Kwanza. The reason most people will be home with their families on December the 25th, enjoying the day at their employer's expense, has nothing to do with Muslim or Jewish traditions. Christmas is a national holiday and will remain so despite the foolish machinations of extreme cultural iconoclasts. Whatever men vainly imagine in the recesses of their deceitful hearts, it does not change the facts of redemptive history, the facts which objectively secure our redemption. Whatever we call a lighted tree, the Prince of Peace has still come. Whatever we do with the fat man in red, the Sun of Righteousness still became flesh. Whatever words are contained in the cards exchanged, the Desire of Nations rules over all with a rod of iron. Christ has still come. The Tabernacle of the Lord is still with men. He is still our God, and we are still His covenant people. No lawyer can remove His legal claim upon my soul. So, I say, let them rant and rave, let them moan and groan over essentially meaningless words and sentimental icons. Let them conspire together against the Lord and against His Anointed. Let them pathetically attempt to break His bands and cast away His cords. He who sits in the heavens laughs and holds them in derision. I must confess, I get a good, hearty chuckle at their expense myself.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Avoiding Extremes

2005-12-07T20:08:00.000-07:00

Let others complain that the times are wicked. I complain that they are paltry; for they are without passion. The thoughts of men are thin and frail like lace, and they themselves are feeble like girl lace-makers. The thoughts of their hearts are too puny to be sinful. For a worm it might conceivably be regarded a sin to harbor thoughts such as theirs, not for a man who is formed in the image of God. Their lusts are staid and sluggish, their passions sleepy; they do their duty, these sordid minds, but permit themselves, as did the Jews, to trim the coins just the least little bit, thinking that if our Lord keep tab of them ever so carefully one might yet safely venture to fool him a bit. Fie upon them! It is therefore my soul ever returns to the Old Testament and to Shakespeare. There at least one feels that one is dealing with men and women; there one hates and loves, there one murders one's enemy and curses his issue through all generations--there one sins.

-- Soren Kierkegaard

Kierkegaard's words seem to resonate in my heart at a certain, guttural level. Of course, I really do not want people to go around murdering their enemies and cursing their issue, but, nevertheless, there is something undeniably lost in our modern, ever-pervading apathetic insipidity. I suppose I sympathize with him because, as a human, I seek intense extremity. However, I also realize this is not wisdom. Left unchecked, this will lead to perverse lusts for various objects, whether of the apparently pious or more hedonistic variety. As the preacher says, "Be not righteous over much; neither make thyself over wise: why shouldest thou destroy thyself? Be not over much wicked, neither be thou foolish: why shouldest thou die before thy time? It is good that thou shouldest take hold of this; yea, also from this withdraw not thine hand: for he that feareth God shall come forth of them all" (Ecclesiastes 7:16-18). Despite my proclivity to indulge my desire for the radical, wisdom is found in moderation. In the end, I would not like to live in a society of bold, lusty sinners or in one of perfectionistic, annoying, petty moralists. Thus, in the end, I am neither a Sartre-like existentialist, nor a Wesleyan, revivalistic pietist, although both seem so deliciously tempting at times.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Peace Like a River

2005-11-29T20:51:00.000-07:00

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.

- Horatio Spafford

Anna Spafford, Horatio's wife, was involved in a terrible accident upon the high seas in which all four of her daughters perished. Upon reaching safety, Anna sent a hauntingly disturbing telegram to her husband containing only the words "Saved alone." Anyone who has children knows quite well that these words are enough to fill the heart with grief, flood the soul with profound, unending depression, and leave the poor, loving father utterly undone. Yet, Horatio Spafford did not think like men of this world. His thoughts, desires, and aspirations lingered not on temporal, ever-elusive earthly happiness. He lived in this world with the thought and love of eternity firmly implanted and cultivated in his enlivened, thoroughly Christian spirit. He understood that to live is Christ and to die is gain. In his acute perception, he saw past the meaninglessness of worldly gain, the vanity of the lust of the eyes, and the inanity of the pride of life. He knew this world to be what it truly is, a vale of tears containing only an illusion of permanence, a vale of tears leading to one inevitable end--death. But, even that, even the inevitable end of all men, even the grave whose gluttonous mouth is never full, never satisfied, caused him no fear or trepidation, for he had learned from His Lord that it is the welfare of the soul which holds the key to the meaning of life and its ultimate fulfillment. He had learned that true satisfaction is not found in earthly gain, material wealth, or any peace which this world seems to offer. He had learned that nothing on this earth can separate him from the love of God in Christ, and it was that love which burst forth from his breast as a river of life, causing him to pen the beautiful words quoted above, words which bring unspeakable comfort to the Christian heart. You see, the only longing desire of man that can be satisfied is the desire of the soul, the desire of faith. This desire will be truly satiated, filled to the brim when it shall culminate in the beatific vision of the blessed Lord, when faith shall at last be sight. As the Lord has said, "Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled." Indeed, blessed are they who abide in this vale of tears with a heavenly mind focused on things everlasting.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

The Question of Our Age

2005-11-19T23:26:00.000-07:00

If we believe that humans do not make their choices based on reason, then we can only conclude that our actions are simply the unreasoned, unchosen results of our emotions. Conversely, if we say that our choices are only free if they are directed by reason, then acting freely in the fullest sense means making choices that are reasonable (good), and declining to act in ways that are unreasonable (bad). Freedom thus becomes more than just absence of coercion. It is, rather, the fruit of rational choices.

- Samuel Gregg

We often conceive and speak of freedom as merely absence of coercion or the liberty to do simply as we please. Under this definition, the concept of freedom is used as license for nonsensical, even destructive behavior. It is a concept based upon relativism, which is truly no basis at all. A structure built on such an intellectually flimsy, fundamentally contradictory foundation is destined for absolute ruin. A political science with relativism as its moral source begs for the introduction of tyranny. Such a tributary brings nothing but brackish, parasite infested waters. Freedom is more responsibly described as the liberty to do as our conscience and reason dictate. Of course, the success of a free society depends entirely on the idea that men will generally act in a reasonable and responsible manner if unleashed from the chains of coercion and oppression. I often wonder if this presupposition is realistic. I suspect that herein lies the fundamental question of our age, the answer to which will decide the course and fate of our American experiment. This is the battleground upon which liberty will either stand victorious or meet her ultimate demise.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Vanity and Defective Christianity (Second Post)

2005-11-15T20:40:00.000-07:00

I have recently been reminded of the belligerence of the "practical" Christianity movement. I suppose I should write a new post on my thoughts. However, I have already stated my opinion on the subject about a year ago. For those of you who have not read the post, I have decided to publish it again. For those of you who have read it, I apologize for the redundancy, although I do not flatter myself that you would necessarily remember it:

Life is full of insipid banality, as the great preacher has said:"Vanity of vanities, all is vanity. What profit has a man from all his labor In which he toils under the sun? One generation passes away, and another generation comes; But the earth abides forever. The sun also rises, and the sun goes down, And hastens to the place where it arose.The wind goes toward the south, And turns around to the north; The wind whirls about continually, And comes again on its circuit. All the rivers run into the sea, Yet the sea is not full; To the place from which the rivers come, There they return again. All things are full of labor; Man cannot express it. The eye is not satisfied with seeing, Nor the ear filled with hearing. That which has been is what will be, That which is done is what will be done, And there is nothing new under the sun."

- Ecclesiastes 1:2-9

Meaning is the substance of a life
But it cannot be perceived by the senses
It demands profound reflection
But it cannot be formed in the mind's eye
Meaning is a word
Matter is held together by it
But matter is all we see
Meaning derived from matter is foolishness
Matter based on meaning is the font of wisdom
For, in the beginning was the Word

As I trudge to work each morning and work through the tasks assigned to me, tasks which mean very little to anyone, including myself, and will not be remembered in the years to come, I wonder if meaning can be found in any of it. Too often we are too easily satisfied. We buy houses, cars, or any other product of material wealth and we are told by our culture that such things will bring happiness. The empty philosophies of our day present nothing but cognitive means to secure greater material gain. Hence the ever popular, yet utterly inane "Seven Habits of Highly Effective People" and countless other "paradigms" of its sort. Popular entertainment normally will not dare to confront the real issues of life or delve into the deeper recesses of true meaning. Occasionally a motion picture, or other modern art form, will deal with issues of the soul, but the problems are normally presented and resolved completely within the context and trappings of the temporal realm. Problems are presented, but no real answers are given. So, we trudge through life, but the soul still yearns for something more, something beyond. If Karl Marx got anything right, it was that modern man is alienated. This is true. But that extremely intelligent, yet extremely misguided, man made his fundamental mistake in seeking to resolve the insipidity of modern life in the insipidity of modern life, as if a restructuring of economics could penetrate the deepest longings of the soul, longings which ever and inevitably migrate to the ethereal, incorporeal, and eternal. Perhaps we think Marx is irrelevant since his theories have failed so miserably. Dare I say, our conservative capitalism is not much different. We still seek to find meaning from material things. Modern man longs for the eternal, but nowhere does he find it.

Alas, he does not even find it in the church. How many church marquees have we all passed that advertise the monthly theme as "Six Steps to a More Effective Life," or "Principles of Effective Biblical Management"? Our "evangelical" churches have become little more than varied expressions of vacuous professionalism and consumerism. As such they become just another voice in a sea of material emptiness. I can hear such earthly things at earthly institutions. I can discover how to be a better manager at a work management seminar. I can learn to be more effective by picking up the latest self-help craze literature at the local book store. Not that I would actually do anything of the sort, but I certainly do not need to drag myself out of bed on Sunday morning to hear the same drivel that I can hear any other day of the week. It is at best boring. At worst it is blasphemous.

If there is any place or point on earth in or at which we can catch of glimpse of eternity, should it not be in the House of the One who inhabits eternity? If God dwells in eternity (Isaiah 57:15) yet inhabits the praises of His people (Psalm 22:3), how is the place of worship anything but a place where time and eternity meet, where the insipidity of temporal life is invaded and conquered by the weight of glory and subsequently infused with profound meaning? As man searches, indeed lusts, for real meaning, the church simply fails in its mission if it resorts to a message and conduct utterly characterized by the worries and cares of this life. Such things function only to choke the sapling of faith. Such things are not fertile soil for the nourishment of the soul. The soul demands a link to the eternal. It longs to see beyond the material things, the mundane ways of daily life, and peer into what lies beyond. As Christians, we know that it is Christ who lies beyond, for all things were created by Him and for Him. In the beginning was the Word and the universe was formed by it, by Him.

When we walk into a church we should be silenced by the weight of glory. We should be awed by the beauty of eternity and it's Inhabitant. The church culture should be a culture of the Kingdom of God, a kingdom not founded or located on earth, but founded in and located in eternity. Yes, my friends, Christ is Jacob's Ladder, He is the bridge between this world and the world of the Beyond. He reigns on High and infuses His church with His eternal Spirit. The Kingdom of God pours forth as an invading army from eternity into the kingdom of this world, the kingdom of darkness and meaninglessness. The kingdom of God, His Church, is the beachhead of eternity. The church must go about as an army of heaven, bringing the light and hope of eternity in its path. Too long have we rather defected from this army and joined the ranks of the drones, spouting insipid inanities that tickle the ears but contribute nothing to true godliness and are utterly powerless to restrain the oppressive onslaughts of aimless conduct. We are not redeemed by corruptible things like silver or gold or even practical "theology" and "moving" worship. We are redeemed by the precious, life giving blood of the eternal God made man, the one Point of Contact between God and man, between the world and eternity.

Does man want practical, earth bound theology and "accessible" worship? He thinks he does, at least until he is given a glimpse of something more. Let us give him that something, let us give him the blessings of Christ from eternity. Read the eternal Word of God without apology. Recite our liturgies with enthusiasm and confidence. Observe the ceremonies of the sacraments with full knowledge that The Eternal One is among us. Will the people come? I cannot guarantee it, but I believe it to be so. After all, the soldiers of Christ cannot resist the call of their Divine Commander. Those who have the Beautiful One in their bosom inevitably long for the beauty of eternity. Let us rediscover that beauty and offer it without compromise to the beloved people of God.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

On Implicit Faith and Brain Cramps

2005-11-14T19:33:00.000-07:00

About Jesus Christ and the Church, I simply know they're just one thing, and we shouldn't complicate the matter.

- Joan of Arc

If Joan was referring to the visible church as an organization, which I presume she was, then I find her view quite baffling. After all, she was tried in a legitimate ecclesiastical court and condemned to the stake. Then, in 1456, 23 years after her horrible demise, another likewise legitimate ecclesiastical court acquitted her. If Jesus Christ and the visible church are one, then it seems Christ was a bit confused. I suppose many of her loved ones would have wished the omniscient, immutable King of Kings and Lord of Lords had made up his mind about her before she burned. Hmmm. Perhaps it is a bit complicated after all.

However, it is hard to blame poor Joan. We all want things to be simple. A friend of mine recently observed that most modern Americans will reject any argument that may take more than five minutes to develop. If it does not fit between commercials, then it cannot be true. Or, at least it is not worth our time pursuing. Many Christians, or adherents of any other system for that matter, have what is called an implicit faith. They believe a certain thing because they were taught to believe it, and that is all they need to know. This may suffice for a five year old, but it ought not to be acceptable to a thinking adult. Implicit faith leads to such things as book burning and, well, people burning. I tend to think implicit faith results from fear. Although it is appropriate for a humanist to fear the loss of power in their cognitive wasteland, no such emotions should strike the heart of a Christian believer. Too many are afraid that the faith of the Living God will be overwhelmed by the naysayers. We must remember that Christ is not intimidated by contrary arguments. He who rules the nations with a rod of iron, He who patiently waits for His enemies to be made His footstool, He who sits on the throne of heaven is not impressed with their impious ranting. In fact, He laughs at them and holds them in derision. Someday, we shall join the heavenly hosts in their laughter. For now, on this side of eternity, let us be resolved to wrestle with difficult ideas in order to defend the faith with all confidence and peace of mind.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

On Stupid People

2005-11-13T17:06:00.000-07:00

Whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad.

- Euripides

There is nothing worse than aggressive stupidity.

- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Perhaps it is a gross understatement, but these terrorists are not the brightest people on God's green earth. Of course, in their part of the world, the earth is not so green...but I digress. They have been killing their own people for quite some time. Now, one of their atrocious acts of violence in Jordan has made international news, and it is extremely difficult for our detractors in Europe and the American left wing to blame it all on George Bush. The reason these monsters can function is because they are harbored by ambivalent Middle Eastern nations. If Aboob and his ilk are so dimwitted as to attack those very nations that give them shelter from the American storm, I can only stand in wonder at such utter, astonishing stupidity.

Now they have expressed their desire to attack the Queen of England, a woman beloved by many of the most influential and powerful nations of the earth. They do this while Prince Charles, a self-proclaimed despiser of his own inherited title of "Defender of the Faith," is chiding the United States for our strong stance against radical Islam. Honestly, I can think of nothing they could do which would serve better to steel the resolve of the allies of the United States and ensure the overdue demise of every living radical Islamo-fascist. The liberal opposition in these nations would be completely emasculated. They would subsequently lose their pompous veneer and their usurped high moral ground. Imagine being so incredibly moronic as to actually and willingly invite the full and unrestrained wrath of moderate Muslim nations, Great Britain, Australia, Canada, and the United States. Osama and Abu, your day of reckoning is near, the angel of death menacingly stands over your head prepared to strike with the vengeance of the Living God Himself...Your move.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

The Foolishness of God

2005-11-10T20:41:00.000-07:00

The foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men.

- Saint Paul (1 Corinthians 1:25)

Now there were in the same country shepherds living out in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. And behold, an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were greatly afraid. Then the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people. For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be the sign to you: You will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger."

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying: "Glory to God in the highest, And on earth peace, goodwill toward men!"

- The Gospel According to Luke (2:8-14)

This is so familiar to us, we often miss the irony of the scene. Think about this. Here we have an announcement from an angelic, heavenly being. Indeed, he is joined by a great multitude of the heavenly hosts. Heaven and earth meet in this moment in time and men behold the spiritual beings and hear the glorious gospel from the mouths of angels. If there has ever been a significant event on earth, surely, surely it was this one. Never before nor since has a company of angels sung to men and never before nor since has such a wondrous message been proclaimed by the heavenly beings to an earthly audience. This was the turning point in the history of man, the history of the Kingdom of God on earth. Christ was born! The one expected from the prophecy in the Garden of Eden and throughout the entire Old Testament, was born. This was the most important day in the history of the world. God became flesh and dwelt among us! But, notice the audience. Why in the world would such a glorious and divine announcement be declared in the middle of nowhere to a few insignificant shepherds? The angels did not go to the palaces of the rulers of earth. They did not go to the most populated places to ensure that the message would be proclaimed far and wide. They did not choose rich, important people to be the recipients of their wonderful declarations. No, they chose a few poor, utterly insignificant shepherds in some forgotten field in the middle of the night. My friends, this was no accident. The angels did not make a mistake. They did not merely happen upon this field when they descended to earth. This is exactly where God wanted to make this glorious announcement and these were the exact persons to whom He wanted it to be proclaimed. This turns earthly wisdom completely on its ear. Indeed, God does not think like a man. If I were making such an announcement with such an accompaniment, I would ensure that the movers and shakers of the world heard me. I would make it in front of Foxnews headquarters, or the capital building or some such place. But, you see, God does not think like me. He does not think like a man. He does what may seem astonishingly foolish to this dark world, and in this "foolishness" He finds delight and glory.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

The Christian's Badge of Honor

2005-11-07T18:33:00.000-07:00

As every lord giveth a certain livery to his servants, charity is the very livery of Christ. Our Saviour, Who is the Lord above all lords, would have His servants known their badge, which is love.

- Hugh Latimer, English Christian martyr under Bloody Mary

By this all will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another.

- The Blessed Lord Jesus Christ (John 13:35)

And above all things have fervent love for one another, for "love will cover a multitude of sins."

- The Apostle Peter (1 Peter 4:8)

Certainly it is important that Christ marks love as the most evident badge of His people. Certainly it is important that the apostle says "above all things have fervent love for one another." I daresay, there are so many things we would prefer in place of Peter's highest virtue. I suppose if I were writing this, as a typical Reformed believer, I would say, "Above all things confess the right doctrine." Others in broad evangelicalism may prefer if it said, "Above all things be really busy doing stuff in the church." Those in high liturgical churches might prefer, "Above all things have really nice, beautiful, reverent services." Though these things are, perhaps, important in the right perspective, for doctrine, being involved, beauty, and reverence are all good things, they are not of paramount importance. What is of paramount importance in the kingdom of God is love, not merely a show of love or lip service thereto, but heartfelt, fervent love. The apostle James tells us that this love must be expressed in action. For he says if we see a brother in need and say to him, "Be warmed and filled" but do nothing for him, our love is false, it is useless, it is dead. However, Paul reminds us that love must be more than just deeds, it must actually come from the heart. We must have a faith that works through love, the kind of love that is not provoked to anger, keeps no record of wrongs, hopes all things, believes all things, a love that never fails. This is a love that does not allow backbiting or gossip. This is a love that does not even allow an evil thought toward the one we love. This is a love that is authored and maintained by the Holy Spirit of God Himself, a divine gift, a virtue not of this sinful, selfish world of darkness. The Lord would have us do as He commands. The Lord would have us know our badge. Let us, above all things, strive for this love, my friends, for as we do the petty things we grumble and fight about so often will fade away into insignificance. Love covers over these things. Indeed, it covers over not only the petty things but a multitude of sins, for in our fallen world offenses come not singles by but in battalions. The crucified Lord turned in love toward the repentant thief who, moments before, had been railing insults upon Him. The risen Lord reconciled Himself to Peter, the very man who had denied Him thrice. like a shivering coward, in His greatest moment of need. The ascended Lord took a man who breathed murderous threats against Christ and His church, He laid hold upon him and made him the greatest missionary the world has ever seen and, arguably, the most influential author in the history of the world. The interceding Lord extends this love to us, to you and me, sinners of the worst kind, backbiters, haters of God, rebellious sheep. Though we have sown to the wind and deserve the harvest of the whirlwind, He has returned to us blessings for cursing, love for malice, peace for belligerence. My friends, as we have received so freely and lavishly, so must we freely and lavishly give.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Per Ardua

2005-11-02T20:59:00.000-07:00

Per Ardua

- Motto of the MacIntyre Clan

"Per Adua" means "through difficulties." My ancestors, as well as everyone's no doubt, certainly had their share. They piped the Scottish patriots into battle at Bannockburn under Robert the Bruce to win their freedom from tyranny. They endured the oppression of stronger clans and foreign influences for centuries. They stood strong against the blows of nature, the despair of poverty, the horrors of war, the powermongering of men, and inept political systems for many long years. Yet they continued as a people, as a clan, as a family. They, along with all of Scotland, led the Western world in the implementation of Reformed principles of piety and government. I exist today as living proof of the unrelenting resilience of my forefathers. I also descend from Puritan, English stock, men and women who braved the savagery, pestilence, and hardships of the New World in order to establish and secure their liberty and, most significant to me, the liberty of their descendants. Men are able to withstand incredible difficulties, seemingly insurmountable odds, and fierce oppression. We often forget this in our comfortable modern lives. We begin to think that man must be dependent upon governments and other external, nanny-like influences in order to overcome obstacles. We have been duped into thinking that we must be babied, coddled, and led like sheep by shepherds who definitely do not have our interests in mind. Call me a hopeless idealist, but I tend to believe that if my Scottish forefathers could face the cold steel of the English sword in order to defend their liberty, their families, and their property, I am responsible to hold a similar, firm resolve in the face of tyranny and oppression. If my English forefathers saw fit to abandon their homes for the unknown and dangerous wilds in search of liberty, I must honor their memory and take up their torch. I look to my forefathers as heroes, not ignorant, unenlightened fools as the media, pseudo-scholars, historical revisionists, and statists of our day would have me believe. I honor them, for I owe them my very self. "Christianity and Liberty" will always be my battle cry, for the faith of my fathers is living still. It lives in my blood, in my heart, in my soul. I will fight for it. I will die for it. I will live for it.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Sticking It to Big Oil

2005-10-30T23:43:00.000-07:00

It is my conviction that it was freedom that effected the miracle of America-intellectual freedom, religious freedom, political freedom, industrial freedom; freedom to dream, to think, to experiment, to invent, to match wits in friendly competition; freedom to be an individual. That is our great American heritage.

- J. Howard Pew

Matthew Powell at Wheat and Chaff has an excellent post on the problems of government usurping a place in the charity business (www.wheatchaff.blogspot.com). His post causes me to think of the presuppositions that dominate our emasculated culture, the socialist principles we take for granted. I think the collectivists or socialists are never happy. They envision a utopia that simply does not, will not, and cannot exist on this earth. The poor we will always have among us. There always have been and there always will be both the shockingly poor and the shockingly rich. In capitalist societies, the rich are those who do well in business, whether by meeting real needs, or, to our shame, by catering to faddish, popular frenzies. In aristocracies, the rich are those who inherit lands and titles, thus controlling the agricultural means of livelihood for the masses. In socialist societies, the rich are those who seize power and play the tune of collectivism to the mindless hordes, all the while raping them of any true wealth they can produce in such a disdainfully corrupt and economically desolate environment. It is my opinion that the true key to the success of any economic philosophy is to increase the number in the middle--the middle class. It is a somewhat utilitarian argument, admittedly, but the increase of the middle class is the only realistic means to better the life situation of the most people. Now, the middle class is not created in a vacuum. It is not advanced by taxes and Government "job creation." It is not forced into existence. The middle class can only result from a widespread, natural distribution of wealth based upon the flow of a free market. The market serves as the context, the means, the impetus for the creation of wealth and, as a matter of fact, the redistribution of it. Distribution is a product of access to the means of wealth creation. In a free market the creation of wealth is contingent upon the free choice of individuals or families, depending on the product. You see, it is only in the free market that the rich can attain to their status as a result of the free choices of their fellow citizens. No one, not even such ridiculously rich men as Bill Gates, can force you to purchase their product. Ah, but you object, there are some products which we must buy, without which we cannot function. This is true. A prime example is gasoline. The gas companies can, theoretically, charge whatever they want, because we all have to get to work, drive the kids to school, make trips to the market, etc. Of course this would be true of any needed product if it were not for one very important, central dynamic--competition. Why is the supply of gas not enough to meet the demand? Is it because our markets are too free, allowing Exxon/Mobil to rake in vast amounts of unmerited greenbacks? Actually, although the revenues are definitely up, I believe Exxon/Mobil made only a bit more than 9% profit in the last quarter. I am no economist, but I do know that 9-10% is hardly classified as gouging. Is it because those nasty congressmen and senators are in the pockets of "Big Oil?" Although juicy conspiracy theories make us feel better as we curse the oil companies at the pump with all sorts of unseemly vulgarities, it is, unfortunately, not quite so sinister. In actuality, it is rather simple. There is not enough supply because there are not enough suppliers or production. Why is this? Because those nasty congressmen and senators will not allow entrepreneurs to build more oil drills and refineries. Ah, but you object again, the oil will eventually run out, so we should not allow more drilling and refineries, instead we should invest in alternative fuels. Well, I am all for alternative fuels if it will decrease the cost of my means of transportation and allow me to spend more money on the well-being of my family, but the answer is certainly not found in choking the supply of the only fuel that currently works. We must not trade reality for a dream. Our economy, standard of living, and way of life are completely dependent upon affordable, effective fuel. If you think otherwise, just ponder how well you would live without a car. Here is a quirky idea--Perhaps, just perhaps, if we allow the supply of oil to increase, the revenue and profit margin for such oil will decrease due to greater competition and increased supply. Now it is my turn to ask a question: What will those filthy, moneygrabbing entrepreneurs do with their ill-acquired wealth when oil no longer brings a big return? Allow me to suggest that they may invest their capital in research and development for alternative sources of fuel that are cheaper, cleaner, and more profitable. The socialists want to force a dream, a phantasm. They want to ignore the realities of life and the market. In so doing, they will bring destruction upon our heads. We can stick it to "Big Oil," but we should stick it to them by making them compete in a free and open market, not by enabling them to maintain their access to our most precious commodity through the idealistic, nonsensical, and politically dominated regulation of a dreamworld. Let men be free, as they were born to be. Let men conduct their business in freedom and, ironically, good things will come to us all. Let governments take the helm and indulge in their fantasies of greatness, and, well, God help us all.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

The Ultimate Impotence of Wickedness

2005-10-26T21:05:00.000-06:00

A man's dying is more the survivors' affair than his own.

- Thomas Mann

Admittedly, I really do not know what Thomas Mann meant by this statement. Perhaps he probably would not have read into it the explicit Christian meaning that I would derive. Nevertheless, as stated, it is quite true. The effects of earthly death are for those on earth to manage. The dead have better things to do. Nevertheless, we are hopelessly earthly minded. For instance, when I hear of a small child taken by a monstrous criminal, raped, and murdered, I sometimes wonder how a loving God could allow such a thing to happen. I wonder how this type of evil could possibly work together for good. I wonder how any end could justify such a repulsive means. After all, if I had control of the situation, I would gladly, quickly, guiltlessly and violently end the offender's life before he had the opportunity to harm the child. Now, God is certainly in control, or He is not God at all. I wonder why He, of all Beings most holy and righteous, does not interfere and cease the cruel madness of the malicious perpetrator. Thus, I struggle with the same issues of theodicy that have occupied the minds of many men throughout the history of the world. However, I then ask myself on whose behalf I am taking up this cause, this accusation against the perfect justice of the Most High. Usually, legal cases are advanced on behalf of the victim, but, the murder victim, we must hope, is living in eternal bliss, far from the pains and sufferings of this present age. His or her horrible demise is but a memory, most probably remembered in some sense, but so far removed from the joy of their new existence that it no longer has any power over them or their happiness and contentment. These same victims, on whose behalf I self-righteously question divine wisdom, have seen the face of the Holy One and have, thereby, been beatified, cleansed, translated to perfection. You see, the deeds of the wicked will not echo in the heavenly realms. Their sins do not afflict the hearts of the translated saints. Their evil works will follow them and torment them in the undying flames, but they will not enslave the glorified. In that eternal realm, every tear shall be wiped away, every suffering will be forgotten, every wrong will be righted, for the Lamb who is in the midst of the Divine Throne will shepherd His beloved and lead them to living fountains of flowing, healing, refreshing waters. So, if you ask me why God allows terrible deaths to befall good people, I have no answer from an earthly perspective. I have no answer because, oddly, God has not seen fit to explain Himself to me. But, I have a suspicion that if we were to ask the victim over whose demise we grieve, our concerns would be satisfied. Of course, by the time we are able to ask them, we will already have beheld the Divine glory ourselves, we will already know the answer.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

A Word Fitly Spoken

2005-10-23T01:10:00.000-06:00

Let the colonies always keep the idea of their civil rights associated with your government-they will cling and grapple to you, and no force under heaven will be of power to tear them from their allegiance. But let it be once understood that your government may be one thing and their privileges another, that these two things may exist without any mutual relation - the cement is gone, the cohesion is loosened, and everything hastens to decay and dissolution. As long as you have the wisdom to keep the sovereign authority of this country as the sanctuary of liberty, the sacred temple consecrated to our common faith, wherever the chosen race and sons of England worship freedom, they will turn their faces towards you. The more they multiply, the more friends you will have, the more ardently they love liberty, the more perfect will be their obedience.

- Edmund Burke (Speech on Conciliation with America, March 22, 1775)

A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver.

- Proverbs 25:11

I have recently read the referenced speech by Edmund Burke, a speech which I hitherto did not know existed. What strikes me most about the short oratory is not its content, although that is quite good in itself, but its utterly uncanny forsight and wisdom. If the British Government had heeded his exhortation, the Revolutionary War simply would not have taken place, many British and American lives would have been spared, and the history of the world would have been profoundly altered. Indeed, Burke's words were fitly spoken, pearls of wisdom. Yet, like so many appropriate and timely appeals, it was completely ignored. So much for apples of gold. So much for settings of silver. So much for wisdom in a sinful and powermongering world.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Manners and Anthropology

2005-10-19T22:04:00.000-06:00

Politeness is the art of choosing among one's real thoughts.

- Abel Stevens

Rudeness is the weak man's imitation of strength.

- Eric Hoffer

Civility is particularly due to all women; and remember that no provocation whatever can justify any man in not being civil to every woman; and the greatest man would justly be reckoned a brute if he were not civil to the meanest woman.

- Lord Chesterfield

Politeness, involving the manners of ladies and gentlemen, is an unfortunately lost art. We have abandoned civility for the naval gazing, narcissistic, hedonistic, humanistic philosophies that urge us to express our feeling on every occasion, to be emotionally "authentic." I am convinced that only a fool speaks what is on his mind at all times without regard for the effect that the expression of his thought will have on others. For instance, the wise will always express pleasure at making an acquaintance, even when the pleasure is not actually felt. The prudent will always render due respect to the fairer sex and exalt them upon the pedestal that they so richly deserve. Indeed, I am often vexed by the attitude and historical ignorance of modern feminism. It seems that many women know little, if anything, about the etiquette of the past. Too many accept uncritically that the plight of women has always been so dire and that their sex has been severely oppressed throughout the history of classical western culture. Thus, too many accept, again, uncritically, a lie. In fact, even in the the mundane act of introduction, it was unacceptable to introduce any woman to a man, unless that man were a particularly high dignitary, such as the king. Instead, men were to be introduced in humility to women, and that, normally, only after her express consent, as women were to be given the higher place of honor and respect. It seems so quaint, antiquated, and foreign to us, but men really would bow to the fairer sex. They would rise when a woman entered the room and not sit until she saw fit to be seated. They would wait on her and cater to her fancies. Refined manners dictated that every woman was to be treated as a queen in her own right, receiving the respect she deserved as the bearer of life and the producer of the little images of God we call children. In the end, I believe manners are a matter of anthropology. If man is not simply an intelligent animal, if man is truly the bearer of the image of God, then he ought to speak properly and reservedly. He ought to have a certain poetic beauty in his speech and grace in his gait. He ought to hold his shoulders back and lift his chin in pride and dignity. He ought to dine with civility and refinement. He ought to seek pleasure in the greatest of human aesthetic achievements and avoid his baser instincts. Man is truly a wonderful, glorious creature. He ought to act like it.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Give Them the Bayonet!

2005-10-15T17:10:00.000-06:00

Then, Sir, we will give them the bayonet!

- Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson

Stonewall Jackson uttered the quote above in response to Colonel Bee's report that the Union army was beating back the forward Confederate troops at the Battle of Bull Run. To a man of his character, there was no retreat, there was no acknowledgement of defeat and dishonor. The invading enemy, eager for victory, would find from Jackson's lines only indignant fury and the wrathful, violent thrust of a painful and intimidating bayonet. Whatever one may think of his cause, one must admire the man. You see, these men of yesteryear believed something about human nature that we have long since forgotten. They believed in human resolve, selfless courage, unpretentious dignity, and unyielding moral fortitude. Of course, I believe we have much to learn from these men, these heroes of days gone by, men who seem but myth and lore in our modern, frazzled, disinterested, selfish society. How would the world be changed if men, good men, would take a stand? How would things be altered for the better if, when evil men rose against us, honorable men would stand as a stonewall, immutable, like a mighty bulwark reinforced of the strongest stuff, imposing upon the enemy the bitter feelings of his own inevitable and overdue demise? How would we fare, I ask, if gentlemen would stand their ground in indignation and let the foe taste the cold steel of the bayonet? But, alas, the heroes are gone from the forefront of our culture, their memory forgotten, their names maligned. We have now only to be audience to the reprehensible comedy of gutless, pandering politics and senseless moral equivocation. I have but little hope for anything else.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

The Dawn of Hope

2005-10-11T21:34:00.000-06:00

Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord; and by thy great mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of this night; for the love of thine only Son, our Saviour, Jesus Christ.

- A Collect for Aid against Perils from the English Book of Common Prayer

I simply love this prayer. It is short, to the point, direct, yet thorough and absolutely beautiful. Its aesthetic worth allows its words to flow from the tongue as a forest brook gently and seamlessly trickles over a rock. However, the true beauty of this prayer is not merely in its wording, but in its profound balance between the metaphorical and literal meaning. Although the Lord is the perfect Creator of both the light and darkness, the latter serves as a powerful metaphor for the evils we fear, the evils which might overtake us in our weakness as the sons of Adam, were it not for the protection of our Divine Captain. Darkness brings despair and depression. It brings fear and doubt. It displaces us, disorients us, causes us to lose our bearings. Praise be to God we are not lost in the darkness, for even in the midst thereof, Christ is with us. Yes, though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, He is with us. His rod and staff, they comfort us. Yet, even this is not all. For with the morning comes the dawn of hope, the demonstrated continuance of the divine decree that the earth shall endure to the end of all things, the reassurance that God is in control of all. The holy prophet Jeremiah rejoiced, even in his dark lamentation, that the mercies of God are new every morning. So, until the dawn of hope, lighten our darkness, O Lord, defend us from all perils and dangers, keep us in your love, and lead us to the promised peace of your blessed, eternal Sabbath.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Ex Nihilo Nihil Fit

2005-10-11T19:09:00.000-06:00

I apologize for the lack of posting. I have relocated and have only recently entered back into the modern age. I have truly missed the blogosphere. My postings will begin regularly again from this time forth. Thank you for your patience.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Behind the Mask

2005-08-19T20:36:00.000-06:00

We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes--
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.

Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!

-Paul Laurence Dunbar, We Wear the Mask

Mankind is a beguiled and beguiling lot. We endure the pains of life internally and share that pain with but a chosen, select few. The rest are given the mask of cold civility. We smile as our hearts are torn, tattered, and bleeding. We laugh when we would more appropriately weep. We seek the caring eye of our fellow man and rarely find it. But, man cannot hide his soul from the all seeing eye of God. As the Psalmist so beautifully expresses:

If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there:
if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there.
If I take the wings of the morning,
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea;
Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me.
If I say, Surely the darkness shall cover me;
even the night shall be light about me.
Yea, the darkness hideth not from thee;
but the night shineth as the day:
the darkness and the light are both alike to thee.
(Psalm 139:8-12)

Hiding our sorrows and pain from God is a silly, futile effort, like a child closing his eyes and, thereby, thinking himself not seen. The cries of our tortured souls rise up to the living, blessed Christ. He hears those cries. Though the clay beneath our feet is vile, though we are thoroughly unclean, though our hearts are deceitful and deceived, He presents those cries to the Heavenly Father in glorious perfection, making those deep groanings of the heart fit for Divinity, a sweet and pleasant aroma, as heavenly incense before the Throne of Grace. Indeed, the Lord is nigh unto all them that call upon him, to all that call upon him in truth. He will fulfill the desire of them that fear him: he also will hear their cry, and will save them (Psalm 145:18-19). His grace will penetrate even the stony, hard masks of our own making.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

You Had Me from "In the beginning..."

2005-08-14T20:05:00.000-06:00

I truly love the Holy Scriptures. The Bible is like no other book. There is no other written work on earth with such richness and profundity, such breadth and acute perception. Its depths cannot be fathomed, its glory cannot be exhausted. The believer can read the same pages again and again, yet each time, the life of the soul is revived, the spirit is refreshed, and the limbs of the body are moved to good works by the life of Christ flowing through the living, active words, dividing bone and marrow like a sharp, two-edged sword. However, we must realize the the Bible is, indeed, not an easy book, it is not always easy to stomach, it does not set well in the modern pallet. Like a good Scotch whiskey, it sometimes shocks the tongue even as it warms the belly. It is a book written for the intelligent reader, for one who will take its words and claims seriously, for one who will wrestle with the ideas as Jacob wrestled with the Angel of God, refusing to be dismissed before receiving the promised blessing. You see, the same God who shows mercy unto thousands of them that love Him and keep His commandments also pours out his terrible wrath unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate Him. The same God who has given us the right to be called the sons of God in Christ also sent messengers of His judgment to ancient Israel to dash their infants against the rocks and tear open their pregnant women. No, the Bible is not a feel good book, it will not always make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. But, it is a book of truth, a truth which transcends any claim of this dark and empty world. Many who heard Christ once said "This is a hard saying; who can hear it?" The Bible is full of such sayings. But, the sheep of Christ know the loving voice of their Great Shepherd, they hear the mercy and compassion even in the most difficult sayings.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Beauty and Truth

2005-08-09T20:50:00.000-06:00

Impressionism is probably one of the more popular styles of painted artwork, and, I believe, rightfully so. After all, the works of Monet, Pissaro, Manet, Renoir, and others are quite strikingly beautiful. Their bold use of color and their ability to capture the effects of light through brilliant brushstrokes makes their work ideal for tasteful interior decorating and is indeed a feast for the eye of the refined, aesthetic sense. Instead of giving us marked detail and definition, the artists give us an impression, a visual effect of color and light, corresponding not precisely but rather abstractly to its original subject. Looking upon these works, you will not always gain profound insight into a human subject's emotional state, whether terrible angst, peaceful serenity, or ecstatic joy, as you may in a work by Rembrandt, for instance. The eyes and facial expressions are abstracted like the landscapes, blurred and normally unreadable with any degree of exactitude. To be sure, the impressionists, generally speaking, were not seeking to communicate detail or precise definition. They were seeking to communicate an impression, an aesthetic feeling, letting beauty fill the eyes as a refreshing, deep breath fills the lungs. This is all well and good in art. I sometimes wonder, however, if we do not transfer this same approach into our critical thinking. I fear, too often, we gain an impression of an idea and make judgments and distinctions based upon that cursory and imprecise feeling. Instead of examining an argument or idea in detail, weighing its logical cogency, and testing the validity of its truth claims, we are often content with the effect of the idea on our emotions. This is reflected in the linguistic means by which we articulate our thoughts. Thus, we say such nonsensical and irrational things as "I feel this [or that] is wrong [or right]." Man is a tenaciously fascinating creature. While we certainly can appreciate beautiful impressions, while we certainly are emotional beings, we also have a nagging sense of reason. Because we are fashioned in the image of God, it is most certainly innate, this ability to reason; however, it is also improved by use and honed through consistent, disciplined employment. You see, our aesthetic sense was designed to take in beauty and appreciate it. It was designed to enjoy the emotional effects of color without, necessarily, connecting these emotional effects to anything overtly rational. At the same time, our intellectual sense, our reason or rationality, was designed to look beyond the impression, beyond the initial, emotional effect and delve deeper into the ins and outs of critical thinking, the undeniable categories of the mind. Perhaps, just perhaps, if we rationally appreciated an argument as much as we may aesthetically appreciate a work of art, we would not be so easily fooled by deceitful argumentation and the circus shows that we call modern politics. Perhaps, just perhaps, herein lies the analogy between truth and beauty.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

The Plant of Liberty and Its Requisite Soil

2005-08-07T16:51:00.000-06:00

Liberty, when it begins to take root, is a plant of rapid growth.

- George Washington

I suppose, though I do not purport to be an expert on the matter, that the above statement articulates the basis for much of our recent foreign policy. The U.S. has assumed the burden, in certain parts of the world, of sowing the seed and assisting in the cultivation of the plant of liberty in foreign lands. The hope is, of course, that this plant will take root, grow rapidly, and produce fruits of peace, prosperity, and stability. However, I often wonder if the ancient soil in many of these places is not in fact hostile to the plant of liberty, that is, rendered barren, salted if you will, by centuries upon centuries of oppressive political philosophies and the influence of a violent and cruel religion. Liberty takes root not in the daily decisions of the individual, as if it were entirely a pragmatic and practical ideal, but in the intellectual context of a group of people. If that context has not been prepared and advanced by philosophies conducive to the ideals of liberty and virtue, the plant of which Washington speaks possesses a very slight chance of survival. It is more likely to be choked out by arbitrary power and endless violence. I must warn you that I am no cultural relativist by any stretch of the imagination. I sincerely believe that classical Western culture is far superior to the traditional cultures of the Middle East. I also firmly believe that the superiority of classical Western culture is no accident, as if it occurred in a moral and intellectual vacuum. It was a product of Christianity, at least philosophically, and its accompanying virtues and ideals. I suppose I am saying that the government of a people cannot be successfully improved in accordance with the true ideals of liberty, unless and until the philosophical and religious ideas of that same people are likewise and concurrently reformed and reconstructed. Sadly, the possibility of such a radical intellectual paradigm shift is probably nothing but a dream, a fleeting phantasm of the hopeful mind.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Imago Dei

2005-08-04T19:31:00.000-06:00

Man is to be honored, not only for virtue, but also for divine representations of other good things: in a word, because one man before another, beareth the image of something that is in God.

- William Perkins (d. 1602)

I can honestly think of no other enduring, rational reason to honor man. If man does not in fact bear the image of God but is instead the product of mindless, random, biological mutations, if man bears no mark of transcendence in his very being, then I utterly fail to see why he is entitled to life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness or any other teleological or existential goal imaginable. Perhaps it would be better, in some imagined, naturalistic value structure, for humans to die off and allow other species to evolve to supremacy. Perhaps their evolutional destiny would surpass our own if given aeons of time and the opportunity to survive as the fittest without the encumbrances of such nasty things as the human propensity to search for the otherness of transcendent being. Imagine all the fish people living in a world of peace if only we would stop eating their ancestors with our tartar sauce and acting like we had dominion over this place called earth, this meaningless third rock from the sun. Of course, we could always be selfishly arbitrary and declare man's right to peaceful existence simply because we are men, and it is to our personal advantage, but there is no transcendent basis for the claim. If man is not the very image of the transcendent Being Himself, then why, praytell, should I treat my fellow man with dignity? Why should I not malign and mistreat him as I see fit? One may say he is a fellow human and therefore entitled to the same respect I would give to myself...the Golden Rule, you know. Even if the analogy between myself and another did hold true, which in such a context I am not ready to grant, why, then, should I treat myself with dignity? Why not bring about my own demise with drugs and other self-destructive, though pleasurable behavior? This is about the point where the average non-theist will go irrational on us. They will resolve the argument in emotion. It is wrong because it feels wrong. It is wrong because it makes us cry when we see atrocities committed in a movie. But why should the sensations of a chemical reaction in my brain influence the course of evolution, the selectivity of untimely death, and the survival of the fittest? If the emotional reaction does not correspond to notions of transcendent law, then it is much gooey ado about nothing, bearing no logical, rational, meaningful, or even necessarily advantageous relation to anything whatever. Perhaps the only flaw of the Nazis, hutus, or other genocidal maniacs of history, was that they really were not the fittest. No, you see, man is nothing without his God. He is lost in nihilistic relativism, searching for a meaning that simply is not there.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Responding to Divine Grace

2005-07-30T19:36:00.000-06:00

What thou, my Lord, has suffered
was all for sinners' gain;
mine, mine was the transgression,
but thine the deadly pain.
Lo, here I fall, my Savior!
'Tis I deserve thy place;
look on me with thy favor,
vouchsafe to me thy grace.

What language shall I borrow
to thank thee, dearest friend,
for this thy dying sorrow,
thy pity without end?
O make me thine forever;
and should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never
outlive my love for thee.

- Bernard of Clairvaux (trans. James W. Alexander)

What language shall I borrow? I could plead to gain a thousand tongues, a thousand voices to hymn the praises of our blessed Lord, but, alas, even that would not be enough. No tongue of man is adequate. Perhaps even the tongues of angels leave something wanting, something incomprehensible, ineffable beyond the words themselves. All fail to fully express the passion of the Christ in all its profundity, its beauty, and its divine perfection. Our words cannot rise to answer the message of our God--the message of peace, comfort, and love. Our warfare is accomplished, our iniquity is pardoned. The desire of all nations has come, even the messenger of the covenant, in whom we delight, has come, the light of the world has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon us. We vainly search for a proper response, for some means by which to express the love which floods our souls, welling up to overflowing in our heavy laden breasts, but the words fail even at our lips.

Ah, but that is just the point, is it not? There is no adequate response. There is no repayment for the debt we owe. The grace of our compassionate God is poured out upon us, and we can but receive it, lay hold of it, fall upon our knees as it overwhelms our souls with everlasting, abundant life and a divine love which we shall never outlive. Then, only after we realize that the depths of the sea of God's love are truly unfathomable, shall we lift up our once meager voices with strength, join the hosts of heaven, and shout from the very hills "Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honor, and glory, and blessing. Blessing, and honor, glory and power, be unto Him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb for ever and ever."

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

The Joy of Christ and a Pure Heart

2005-07-27T21:11:00.000-06:00

Joyful, joyful, we adore Thee, God of glory, Lord of love;
Hearts unfold like flowers before Thee, opening to the sun above.
Melt the clouds of sin and sadness; drive the dark of doubt away;
Giver of immortal gladness, fill us with the light of day!

- Henry J. van Dyke (to Beethoven's "Hymn to Joy" from the 9th Symphony)

Ah, to join the adoration of the hymnist and bask in the joy of the Living Christ! In Him we have joy. In Him we have hope. No sin, no sadness, no dark cloud of doubt shall separate us from the love of our blessed Lord. Clothed with the righteousness of Christ, the ransomed soul will appear as beautiful and pure as the unfolding flower of the field. He, and only He, will remove the darkness of sin and fill us with the light of righteousness and truth.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Faith of Our Fathers

2005-07-20T20:01:00.000-06:00

Faith of our fathers, living still, in spite of dungeon, fire, and sword;
O how our hearts beat high with joy whene'er we hear that glorious word!
Faith of our fathers, holy faith!
We will be true to thee till death.

- Frederick Faber

Be wise now therefore, O ye kings: be instructed, ye judges of the earth.
Serve the LORD with fear, and rejoice with trembling.
Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and ye perish from the way, when his wrath is kindled but a little. Blessed are all they that put their trust in him.

- Psalm 2:10-12

The Christian faith has existed for 2000 years. Before the Birth of Christ, the God of the Holy Scriptures always had a remnant of the faithful, even if that remnant dwindled, at times, to a very precious few. The faith has endured since the beginning of man's creation, despite man's continuous efforts to efface it, despite man's perpetual plotting to break the divine bands and cast away the divine cords. As it has prevailed to date, so it will continue to endure even until the end of the age.

The enemies of the faith can spitefully spurn us and contemptously relegate us to obscurity, but the holy faith of our fathers will live on. They can do horrible violence to us in their dogmatic frustration, but the holy faith of our fathers will live on. They can imprison us in an effort to silence our voices, but the holy faith of our fathers will live on. They can even murder us as a last resort, but the faith of our fathers will live on. You see, the faith is as immortal and eternal as the very Spirit who authored it. It is a fool who contends with the Son of God and attempts to clumsily interfere with His inevitable triumph. It is the essence of heavenly wisdom to remain true and faithful even to death's door and beyond. Indeed, blessed are all they that put their trust in Him.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring

2005-07-16T12:24:00.000-06:00

Jesu, joy of man’s desiring,
Holy wisdom, love most bright;
Drawn by Thee, our souls aspiring
Soar to uncreated light.
Word of God, our flesh that fashioned,
With the fire of life impassioned,
Striving still to truth unknown,
Soaring, dying round Thy throne.

Through the way where hope is guiding,
Hark, what peaceful music rings;
Where the flock, in Thee confiding,
Drink of joy from deathless springs.
Theirs is beauty’s fairest pleasure;
Theirs is wisdom’s holiest treasure.
Thou dost ever lead Thine own
In the love of joys unknown.

- Words written by Martin Janus (trans. Robert Bridges); Music by J.S. Bach

Ah, how the Christian soul soars to uncreated light with a burning passion of life in the breast. No, our Lord is not the pale Galilean, He is not the author of insipidity and gray, stolid, petty moralism. He is the source of beauty itself, love most bright, drawing the enthralled souls of His people to His throne where they drink of the deep wells of heavenly joy, sharing in fairest pleasure, enriched by holiest treasure. The spiritual pleasures of Christian bliss, the passionate ecstasy of beatification are joys unknown to this world and its lusts.

Son of God, You are the joy of my desiring, the end of all my yearnings, the fulfillment of all my longings. Let my spirit soar, let my soul bathe in your uncreated light, and partake of your endless delights. In You, in You alone, I fathom the depths of my soul's desire.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

All You Need Is Love

2005-07-11T18:55:00.000-06:00

"Everyone feels benevolent if nothing happens to be annoying him at the moment."

- C.S. Lewis

"I must make one confession," Ivan began. "I could never understand how one can love one's neighbors. It's just one's neighbors, to my mind, that one can't love, though one might love those at a distance...For anyone to love a man, he must be hidden, for as soon as he shows his face, love is gone."

- The character Ivan in The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky (trans. Constance Garnett)

Love is not an abstraction. We tend to abstract it, because it make us feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It makes us feel good, virtuous, even pious. The pop culture of the 60s did a very effective job inculcating the masses with the concepts of abstract love. One need only recall the tuned refrain from John Lennon "Love is all you need." We all know this is nonsense, but we sing along with glee nonetheless and nod in mindless affirmation. Of course! All the Jews needed to do was love Hitler...nah, nah, nah, nah. All the tutsis needed to do was love the hutus...nah, nah, nah, nah...All you need is love, love. Love is all you need.

No, my good reader, this is not love. It is a sloppy, poorly articulated, self-aggrandizing dismissal of responsibility. Loving is not an easy thing to do in reality. Our high divorce rate should prove that, if nothing else. It involves sacrifice, self-denial, responsibility, and, dare I say, action. I could shut myself away in a monastery tower and speak eloquently of my overflowing love, with no one around to hear. I could retire to a hermit's cave and meditate upon my profound love of mankind, with no one around to care. I could go anywhere by myself, and feel the greatest, most acute love for my neighbor, as long as there is no neighbor around to mess it all up. Indeed, those who refer to Christ's commandment to love one another as if it were a release from the responsibility of the Law, simply do not understand what love is. The blessed Lord did not make obedience easier. He made it all but impossible, that is, apart from divine assistance. You see, sin and love are mutually exclusive concepts. Which is simply to say that love finds no fertile field in the soils of human nature. The kind of benevolent feelings, resulting in loving actions, that extend during annoyance, the inconveniences of life, and oppression, the kind of love that extends to real men, real neighbors, even enemies, is not a kind of love that can be found in the dark recesses of the human heart. It cannot be conjured up by catchy tunes and hallmark cards. It is nothing less than divine and authored by the Spirit of God Himself.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Cowardice and Resolve

2005-07-07T22:08:00.000-06:00

"Never give in--never, never, never, never, in nothing great or small, large or petty, never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense. Never yield to force; never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy.''

-Winston Churchill

Let us hope the English possess the resolve of their forefathers. The moral influence of the British far outweighs their political or military power. Spain buckled like cowards, probably encouraging the fanatics. The French arrogantly sounded their retreat from the very beginning, as did Germany and Russia. It is now up to the British to redeem the honor of Europe.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Weaponless Dreamers

2005-07-03T10:15:00.000-06:00

"If evil men were not now and then slain it would not be a good world for weaponless dreamers."

- Rudyard Kipling (from the novel Kim)

I have little respect for absolute pacifism, as I find it incredibly cowardly and unmanly. Despite my feelings, for some inexplicable reason, we normally consider such the high moral road and admire it almost mystically. However, if it were not for the courageous who are willing to fight and defend, as Kipling's character observes, this would not be a good world for the weaponless dreamers. Certainly, Christ did instruct us to turn the other cheek, and, indeed, we must obey the Master. On the other hand, He did not say that if someone shoots me in the leg, I should offer him my vital organs also. Or, if someone comes to rape my wife, I should offer him my children as well. Such is madness and folly. For all of the dreaming and nonsensical, mystical talk of absolute non-resistance, the fact remains that some evil men exist who have no business being alive. Some evil men exist who would serve their fellow man best by giving up the ghost. Some evil men exist whose deeds cry out for good men to spill their blood and forcefully stop the madness. Here's to those who have had the courage to accommodate them.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

New Rooms in a Stately Manor

2005-06-28T19:21:00.000-06:00

Almighty and most mercyfull father, we have erred and strayed from thy wayes, lyke lost shepe. We have folowed too much the devises and desyres of oure owne hearts. We have offended against thy holy lawes. We have left undone those things whiche we oughte to have done, and we have done those thinges which we ought not to have done, and there is no health in us: but thou, O Lord, have mercy upon us miserable offendors. Spare thou them, O God, which confesse theyr faultes. Restore thou them that be penitent, according to thy promyses declared. unto mankynde, in Christe Jesu oure Lorde. And graunt, O most merciful father, for his sake, that we may hereafter live a godly, righteous, and sobre life, to the glory of thy holy name. Amen.

Almighty God, unto whom all heartes be open, all desyres knowen, and from whom no secretes are hyd: clense the thoughtes of our heartes by the inspiracion of thy holy spirit, that we maye perfectlye love thee, and worthely magnify thy holy name: through Christ our Lorde. Amen.

- Thomas Cramner (from the English Book of Common Prayer)

I have heard a number of ad hoc "sinner's prayers" in my life as a Christian. None compare to, indeed none approach, the orthodox beauty and profound simplicity of the words quoted above. To deny the importance and applicability of Christian history is not only to violate the fifth commandment, as if that were not enough, it is the height of mindless, philistine foolishness. The beauty that flowed from the pens of our spiritual forefathers is absolutely breathtaking. My friends, there is nothing new under the sun. What we desire to say, has been said before. What we fail to articulate in our poverty stricken, modern English has already been written in the precise, yet awe inspiring words of men who risked their lives, honor, and fortunes for what they knew to be true. There is nothing inherently wrong with new words, or new ways of saying old things, just as there is nothing wrong with building a new room onto a stately manor. Yet, let us be diligent to ensure that our "new rooms" are worthy of the house we have inherited, the same house once inhabited by our esteemed, triumphant fathers in the faith.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Buffoons and Village Idiots

2005-06-21T17:55:00.000-06:00

Your judgment I condemn not, neither do I mistake your reasons, but pray you to accept my thankfulness, excuse my doubtfulness, and take in good part my answer, answerless.

- Queen Elizabeth I in answer to a Delegation from Parliament urging the execution of Mary, Queen of Scots

Oh that we had politicians like Elizabeth today! One could diagnose the answer given above as typical political evasiveness. In a way it is precisely that. However, it is so much more. It was the right answer, the appropriate answer, the only answer that would keep peace in the incredibly turbulent times in which the brilliant queen reigned. She did not lie. She told the delegation exactly what she was going to do--nothing. Elizabeth did eventually sign the death warrant of her hapless prisoner, but that only, you see, when it had become politically expedient for her nation.

Politicians today have no wit. They are not witty enough even to give us the benefit of good old fashioned Elizabethan flattery as they tell us what we do not want to hear. Everything is shrill. All circumstances are earth shattering and all consequences dire. Everything devolves to melodramatic accusations of racism, elitism, radicalism, or other such meaningless political buzz words. Most political speeches are utterly boring products of inane public speech writers, as I have said before, sound and fury, signifying nothing. Diatribes from the congressional floor sound less like the eloquent, inspiring words of the founding fathers and more like the warbling of adult characters in a Charlie Brown holiday special. The politicians that are at least interesting to hear, such as Howard Dean, say such ridiculous and absurd things that all we can do is wonder and laugh at their buffoonery. We watch them as we would a clown or a clever dog performing an amusing trick. Conveniently forgetting that dignified women have been involved in political leadership of Western nations for centuries, the screeching, angry blasts of prominent female politicians (one in particular who will remain nameless) are like so many fingernails dragging across an endless chalkboard, sending shivers down the spines of more levelheaded, thinking people. Alas, gone are the politicians who, while denying petitions, would nonetheless leave the luckless suitor with something to ponder and an impression of respect. Dignified leaders of yesteryear, exit stage left. Buffoons and village idiots, enter stage right. For the sake of our sanity, hopefully this act will have less dialogue.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

An Impotent Leviathan

2005-06-12T16:39:00.000-06:00

It has been said that democracy is the worst form of government except all the others that have been tried.

- Winston Churchill

With his usual incredibly sharp, English wit, Sir Winston Churchill expresses the profoundly true in a short, humorous sentence. It is true that democracy can mean rule by the ignorant masses, if it is true that the masses are ignorant, a state for which, by the way, there is no excuse. We live in a land in which all children are compelled by law to attain an education at least into the tenth grade. The vast majority of the population has graduated from high school. A quarter of the population holds a college degree. If the masses are ignorant, we have no one to blame but ourselves and our own educational systems. It is also true that democracy is inefficient. It requires national elections, a massive, expensive undertaking indeed. It requires campaigning for those elections and answering to the people for every political move. Many things that would be quite healthy for the nation are forgone because the requisite political capital is simply too costly. Our cynicism causes us to hold the claims of politicians as suspect and roll our eyes in disdain at their irrational antics. Most political speeches are sound and fury, signifying nothing. However, I submit it is precisely this inefficiency and the resultant circus shows that makes democracy the most favorable means of political government in our imperfect world. When government cannot act quickly, then it cannot quickly rob us of our liberties and hastily interfere in our private lives. Everything is an entangling hassle for the state leviathan. I, for one, find this delightfully amusing. I suppose we could hope for more dignity in our politicians, but we should not hold our breath.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Lost Donkeys Going Nowhere

2005-06-07T19:48:00.000-06:00

Realism is simply Romanticism that has lost its reason.This is so not merely in the sense of insanity but of suicide.It has lost its reason; that is its reason for existing.The old Greeks summoned godlike things to worship their god.The medieval Christians summoned all things to worship theirs,dwarfs and pelicans, monkeys and madmen. The modern realists summon all these million creatures to worship their god; and then have no god for them to worship. Paganism was in art a pure beauty; that was the dawn. Christianity was a beauty created by controlling a million monsters of ugliness; and that in my belief was the zenith and the noon. Modern art and science practically mean having the million monsters and being unable to control them;and I will venture to call that the disruption and the decay.The finest lengths of the Elgin marbles consist splendid horses going to the temple of a virgin. Christianity, with its gargoyles and grotesques, really amounted to saying this: that a donkey could go before all the horses of the world when it was really going to the temple. Romance means a holy donkey going to the temple.Realism means a lost donkey going nowhere.

- G.K. Chesterton

It takes a bit of romance to apprehend meaning. Of course, this is not to say that meaning is any less real than the most crudely apparent matter, but it is not as easily ascertained. To value the temple-bound donkey over the roaming horse, however splendid a specimen the latter may be, requires the application of a specific human faculty, which is the ability to ascribe meaning to an object, an event, or, in Chesterton's context, a subject of art, that transcends simple matter. It requires the detection and recognition of an idea called "purpose." Matter itself holds no meaning. We must impose meaning on it or, perhaps, deduce meaning from it. Either way, meaning is not physical but, rather, metaphysical. I fear most of us are like Chesterton's lost donkeys going nowhere, grotesque in our insipidity and decaying in our obsession with material. The modern man has lost his grasp on meaning, his grasp on the metaphysical. Our created devils turn on us, philosophically speaking, as quickly as a rabid dog on his master. They are a mass of wild testaments at once granting us pleasure and condemning our souls, leaving us in a purposeless void. We have gained self-fulfillment at the expense of purpose. We have attained to egotistical self-realization at the cost of direction. Modern man is on an endless search for meaning in this world, in the material, in the natural, and in the supposedly godless. What he does not realize is that meaning requires the supernatural, something that transcends nature yet is present with it, something that is indeed "meta" physical. If you doubt this, ponder for a time why ethics and aesthetics, subjects which have engaged the greatest minds in most of history, have become almost extinct as topics of thoughtful philosophical discussion. Beauty is purely subjective, and therefore a meaningless topic for intelligent intercourse, if there is no purpose or teleological ideal. I have an idea that many will find annoyingly quaint, but, I contend, it is irresistible, not to mention inarguably and intriguingly ancient. Simply presuppose the existence of God, and, curiously, meaning is suddenly and gloriously injected into all matter, all events, all circumstances--in short everything. Thus, Christianity, my reader, discovers profundity in the mundane and leaves us with a universe pulsating with reason, fulfillment, wonder and truth.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Undone by Divine Love

2005-06-05T00:43:00.000-06:00

You, my God, are supreme, utmost in goodness, mightiest and all powerful, most merciful and most just. You are the most hidden from us and yet the most present amongst us, the most beautiful and yet the most strong, ever enduring and yet we cannot comprehend you.

- Saint Augustine

And can it be that I should gain
an interest in the Savior’s blood!
Died he for me? who caused his pain!
For me? who him to death pursued?
Amazing love! How can it be that thou, my God, shouldst die for me?
Amazing love! How can it be that thou, my God, shouldst die for me?

- Charles Wesley

I have been a Christian all of my life, yet I still have not figured out the fundamental mystery of Christianity. The Almighty One dwells in the blinding light of inapproachable holiness, yet He allows me to approach Him and calls me, ME into His glorious presence. He is terrible in wrath, yet he abounds in mercy. He is perfectly just, yet He is perfectly compassionate. He is the high and lofty One, the King of King and Lord of Lords, yet He is able to sympathize with my weaknesses, draws me close to Him, and loves me. He is the beautiful One Himself, yet He pardons my hideous depravity. My heart pounds within me, I beat my penitent breast, I weep. Can it be? It is. How? I do not know. I have studied Him intensely all of my life, but I still do not know. Make no mistake, this is not mere sentimental ranting, for I know my wicked heart, reader. I tell you, I am unlovable. I freely say with Peter, "Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord!" Yet, He will not depart from me, He will not forsake me, He will not abandon me to my despair. It seems I can do nothing, nothing to thwart His eternal mercy, for He has set His immutable seal upon me and holds me fast, drawing me, sanctifying me, loving me. No power in heaven and earth will separate me from Him, even the haunting persistence of my own unworthiness and decadence. I betray Him, yet He calls me His friend and brother. Can it be? It is. How? I do not know. I will never know. Is there no end to this love, is there no limit to the fathomless depths of this divine favor? Ah, my King, my Lord, and my God, the only One who commands my soul, I would follow you through the very fires of hell itself. I will follow You to death's door and beyond. I will follow you though the world rage against me, fearing no man, for your powerful, princely rod and your gentle shepherd's staff, they comfort my wind tossed soul. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, you are with me all the while, you will not abandon me to my sin. This is the consolation which sustains me: Though my sinful heart lead me astray, I will soon return your love in glorified perfection. Hasten the day, my God, hasten the day when my arms will be uplifted toward your heavenly thrown, free of the shameful stain of sin and corruption, when my mind, heart, and soul will be wholly yours and yours alone.

Tis mystery all: th' Immortal dies!
Who can explore his strange design?
In vain the firstborn seraph tries
to sound the depths of love divine.
Tis mercy all! Let earth adore;
let angel minds inquire no more.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Truth and the Christian Heart

2005-05-30T17:53:00.000-06:00

Jesus said to him, "I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me. If you had known Me, you would have known My Father also; and from now on you know Him and have seen Him."

- The Gospel of John 14:6-7

There is nothing more devalued in our modern world that truth. The very concept is derided as divisive, illusive, or simply nonexistent. Truth itself is no longer the goal of intellectual inquiry or scholarship. Attaining truth is no longer the end of education and learning. It is not the truth which concerns the modern world. Rather, we are thoroughly preoccupied with finding our truth, that which we personally find compelling, fulfilling, and inspiring. Attempting to persuade others of one’s wholly subjective convictions is similar to attempting to impose one’s preferences or tastes. Thus, believing in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth is subjectively equated to preferring chocolate over vanilla or blue over yellow. The unforgivable sin is no longer blasphemy, it is dogmatism. It is no longer railing against the truth which results in censure, it is asserting any real truth whatsoever. At least, this is what we are told. However, the more astute, sophisticated observer of modern intellectual intercourse will note that the relativists do not practice what they preach. The humanism of our day, with its unwritten confession, is no less dogmatic than the most rabid fundamentalism. The humanist is immutable on the point of his absolute relativism and he will brook no rival thought in his unforgiving path. You can believe anything, as long as you believe in nothing. You can say anything, as long as you say nothing of any real substance. You can employ your reason, as long as you do not think rationally. The most subjective of subjects, we are told, is religion. If one can find some semblance of truth in the naturalistic sciences, one certainly cannot find such in religion. The assumptions of naturalistic empiricism demand the absolute irrelevance of religious thought. It is the product of man’s fancy, an emotional response to the mysteries of the cosmos, wholly unverifiable and rationally unfounded. This is why martyrdom is entirely unfathomable to the modern mind. That one would care so much about religious truth, that one could be so certain about theological convictions that he is willing to spill his blood for his confession is considered fanatical madness. What the non-Christian fails to acknowledge is the self evident fact that Jesus Christ is the truth. He is the very truth itself. To deny the reality and existence of truth is thoroughly tantamount to denying the existence of the Son of God. It is to call Him a liar and devalue His very essence. To deny the importance of truth is to shoo away the Son of the Living God as if He were an annoying fly buzzing about your head. Thus, though it is incomprehensible to the faithless, to the Christian who has boldly resisted the onslaughts of mindnumbing relativism, the one passion that drives him, about which he seems so utterly obsessed and for which he is even willing to die, is truth. This passion cannot be suppressed by flames, the horrors of the Roman arena, ridicule, or any modern form of persecution, for this passion is the very passion of the Son of God Himself. As long as He reigns in heaven, truth will reign supreme in the hearts and minds of His people.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

The Bitter Harvest

2005-05-19T19:06:00.000-06:00

In order to get power and retain it, it is necessary to love power; but love of power is not connected with goodness but with qualities that are the opposite of goodness, such as pride, cunning, and cruelty.

– Leo Tolstoy

A good man reluctantly exercises power over another--the bully delights in it.

- C.W. Powell

The trouble with power is it is there for the taking. The more potential there is for abuse installed in the legal system of a nation, the more proud, cunning, and cruel men will be attracted to careers in politics. When we hear the insipid, horrendously irrational, blatantly deceiving, and insultingly false arguments of various representatives, senators, judges, and presidents we ought not to wonder at such circus shows. We have allowed men to acquire power they were not meant to have, at least not in our republic. We have willingly and naively fed the coffers of the powermongering bureaucrats. We have indulged generations of pandering politicians to the point that they actually and sincerely believe that it is their job to "benevolently" feed us, cloth us, educate us, and sustain us in our old age. We have relinquished our liberties slowly but ever so surely until ideas of freedom are lost and redefined into irrelevance and obscurity. We have set the raw steak before the devouring, gnashing jaws of the famished canines. We should expect our liberties to be scratched, bitten, and trampled when we stand in their path. Indeed, we reap what we sow. We have sown to the whirlwind of humanistic, mindless, irrational socialism, and, I fear, we near the time of the bitter harvest.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Serving Radically Different Gods

2005-05-16T20:59:00.000-06:00

I am a devout Christian. I worship and wholeheartedly serve the Triune God. The ambition of my entire existence is focused on His glory. My life is governed by the oracles of the Most High. I value the Holy Scriptures above all things and hold them closely to my heart with the utmost reverence and conscious, faithful devotion. I am sure most modern liberal humanists, blinded by their own dogma, would consider me a radical religious zealot. However, if you were to flush a few pages of the holy scriptures down the toilet, I might pity you and wonder why you would do such a foolish thing, but I most certainly would not kill you. So much for the equality of all religions. Ideas, doctrines have consequences, my friends. Sometimes those consequences can make the difference between life and death.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Living in Lamentation

2005-05-11T23:09:00.000-06:00

Elias old lies here intombed in grave
But Newcomin in heavens habitation
In knowledge old, in zeale in life most grave
Too good for all who live in lamentation
Whose sheep and seed with heavie plaint and mone
Will say too late, Elias old is gone.

This is the grave marking of Elias Newcomen of Devonshire England, Rector of Stoke Fleming Church (died 1614). I believe he is my ancestor. Of course, that is fascinating to me, but probably not of much use to anyone else who reads this blog. Besides my genealogical interest, there is something in this epitath that strikes me. Note the words "Too good for all who live in lamentation." This may refer directly to those mourning his loss, or it may refer to the general lot of living men. Whatever the case, it is not rare to find such nomenclature describing life in olden times. The Heidelberg Catechism describes life as a "vail of tears." I daresay it is not often that we will hear life described in this way in our modern world. I have sometimes wondered why that is. Perhaps it is because our modern life is cleaner, more luxurious, and less dangerous. After all, in the past one was much more likely to die of some nasty pestilence or spill his blood in a terribly violent war. One was surrounded by unsanitary conditions, the stench of human life, and unfortunate death. Further, we should remember that it was quite common throughout most of history to lose a few of one's children in their infancy. I can only imagine how utterly devestating such a loss could be to an individual and a family as a whole. Considering that such horrors were a part of everyday life, the morose descriptions of yesteryear become certainly and painfully understandable. Life may indeed be more tolerable in our time, for which I am very thankful, yet I think we may lose something in the deal. The ghosts of the past leave us with their memories of lamentation, but they also effectively and poetically communicate their abiding hope in future glory. When life is less enjoyable on earth, one's thoughts, at least in the Christian, inevitably tend to turn toward the eternal. As Christ said "Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." Perhaps, just perhaps, our treasurestore on earth is just a bit too abundant, a bit too illusively comforting and artificially satisfying. Of course, I am not advocating that we all seek to experience financial ruin or existential disaster. However, the lessons of long ago and the voices of the dead teach us to be continually conscious of the temporal nature of wealth and the fleeting nature of the satisfaction of the pleasures of this world. In the end, millions upon millions of years from now, as we enjoy our heavenly respite, our experiences on this earth, whether good or ill, will seem utterly insignificant. Yes, let us live with eternity in our minds and the treasures of heaven in our hearts.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

Eternal Vigilance

2005-05-07T16:11:00.000-06:00

The state must serve man and not the other way around. Society is properly the means; individuals are the end.

- Antonio Rosmini-Serbati

Governments tend to take on a beastly life of their own, asserting for themselves endless rights and unlimited privileges to forward various weak-minded political agendas to perpetuate otherwise useless programs and continually failing attempts at societal engineering. However, we must not let the professional politicians ever forget that Governments do not bear the image of God, individuals do. Governments do not have innate, inherent, natural rights, individuals do. Governments are not virtuous, individuals are. Governments do not act in charity, create wealth, and raise children, individuals do. Insofar as Governments infringe on the dignity and freedom of the individual they act as contemptible parasites siphoning the life support of their ever increasing and invasive power from God's most noble creature. The cost of freedom is eternal vigilance, a firm resolve of the individual to retain his dignity, and the boldness of individual men, refusing to be trampled upon by the impersonal, powermongering state.

Honor, Liberty, Truth!

The Copernican Revolution of the Soul

2005-05-03T21:49:00.000-06:00

A man said to the universe:
"Sir, I exist!"
"However," replied the universe,
"The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation."

- Stephen Crane

There are a few things a baby knows as soon as he enters the world. He can suck, cry, and he has a relentless, dogmatic, innate, albeit non-rational belief that he is the center of the universe. An infant who cannot yet laugh or even control his hands and feet will nevertheless grow red in the face and scream in rage if he is not held, fed, or entertained at the proper moment. Sometimes I wonder if we ever really outgrow this extreme self-involvement. In fact, I suspect we just become more sophisticated in our demands and more savvy in the presentation of our egocentricity. Our innocent, infantile self-preoccupation becomes self-conscious, self-adoring naval gazing. Therefore, notions of duty, responsibility, and acting honorably do not necessarily make us feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I will admit it is an uncomfortable thought, but what if no one owes us anything? What if, ultimately, we are not owed, but, instead, we owe? What if the primary purpose of man is not to be served but to serve and give? What if the core of man's purpose on this earth, the meaning of life, is not found in the exercise of rights and desires, or any aspirations of self actualization, but in the fulfillment of duty? What if it is not God who must respond to the fact of our existence but we that must respond to the fact of His?

Honor, Liberty, Truth!