The Father and The Son: A Parable With Five Movements

Part I: How Long? How Far?

A father and son were ascending a treacherous mountain path by way of a skinny gravel trail. A jagged rock face, adorned only with cudzoo, stood sternly to their left. Westward, to their right, stood nothing: only empty air, light and chaotic, adorned with grey clouds. Southward, beneath the chaos and the clouds, was Green River Canyon; the canyon was shrouded with thick waves of darkness; each wave warned of a steep drop into deep depths. 

After 15 minutes of hiking, the boy protested, "How much farther, Father? How long did you say this trail was?"

"I didn't," answered his father.
"Oh. Well, how long is it?" asked the boy.
The father stepped more quickly, and answered, "How long is it? Only as long as it is."
"What does that mean?" asked the boy, hoping for something measurable by miles; though, he remembered, right then, he had no concept of what a mile really was.
"It means," replied the father, "this trail will never be longer, or shorter than it is. It will certainly not get shorter by complaining."
The boy responded, huffing with frustration, "I just want to find out how long it is — how many miles, or feet, or millimeters."

The father slowed, and spoke more carefully, more kindly, "There's only one way for you to find out how long the trail is, and that's to keep cheerful, and keep walking. The trail cannot be hiked by thinking about miles, or adding and subtracting miles; it can only hiked by hiking miles. You will know how long it is when you come to the end. If I told you how many miles long it was, you'd think it was very long, or maybe very short, and you'd be wrong. It is not so many miles long — at least not for you. For you, it is a step long; each step gets you closer to the end, and when you come to the end, the and only then, will you know how long it is."

The boy huffed, and exhaled. His face turned to stone. He looked up to the mountain, and away from his father. The father turned to gage his son's mood; the boy looked purposefully away, toward the heavens, at a flock of geese that weren't there. The father waved his hand above the boys head, but the boy looked still away, affecting as much distance as is possible from a person right in front of you. He stared ahead into empty space, parsing the cool air with his eyes, straining to pick out a molecule, but still ignoring his father.

Then, the boy said, to the mountain, and the geese, and the cool air — but not to his father — "I just want to know how far it is to the top! How far?!"

The father knelt in front of his son, and spoke — not to the mountain, or the geese, or the cool air, or any other creature — he spoke directly to his son, "How long is it? As long as it is, and no further. That is your comfort, son. The trail will not get longer while we hike it. The mountain will not get higher."

"Umm hmm," said the boy, and stomped down, as an act of petty vengeance, on the mountain of which his father spoke. He was half-surprised that the mountain beneath him didn't give way, or at least tremble.

The father continued, and his voice turned stern and strong and immovable, like the mountain beneath the boy's feet, "And, this, Son, is your rebuke: the trail will not get shorter while we hike it, either. The sooner you hike it, the sooner you will come to the end; when you come to the end, then and only then, you will know how long it is."

Still unsatisfied, and feeling a blister coming on his left big toe, the boy decided on a more subtle approach.

He said, in his meekest, most curious, voice, "OK. Don't tell me how long it is in miles. That's fine. At least, tell me how long it is minutes. How many minutes? Or, um, hours?"

His father responded with suppressed chuckles, and finally, when he could bear it no more, deep rolling laughter. The mountain then shook, or so it seemed to the boy. 

As he doubled his pace, the Father proclaimed, ""How long? Only as long as it takes you to hike it.  Not one second more — not one second less."

Part II: The Escape From The Desperate Escape

The boy didn't care for hiking; he didn't see the point of walking somewhere that led to nowhere he wanted to be. Besides, it was hot, and he wanted to go swimming. There, to his right, off the trail, over the edge, and beneath the clouds, was Green River Canyon — the very thought seemed a heaven to deliver him from the trial of this trail. The canyon promised all a boy desired: a quiet green river, not so deep as to be dangerous, but deep enough to swim; chartered canoe rides; camp sites with fresh fires, and smores; fishing holes, with eager fish flying to meet each hook. That's where his mother and sister were; that's where he wanted to be. His face turned green as he thought of his little sister splashing lazily in the green water of Green River Canyon while he struggled thirsty and hot up a big hill.

That morning, he had seen a brochure for Green River Canyon Park. He'd read the words, "Come and splash away a day! Canoes! Swimming! Fishing! Grilling!" The promise of such a place made the boy want to jump the trail, and roll right down the mountain into the water below. He considered slowly falling farther and farther behind his father until, suddenly out of sight, he'd make a getaway. He saw himself jumping the trail, rollicking down the mountain, and flopping headlong into cool waters. Surely it wouldn't be hard to find his mother once he made it to the bottom. Surely, his father would understand. He plotted his escape.

Just then, the boy took a longing look into the canyon. It dawned on him, in an instant, that something was missing. Until then, he'd barely looked over the edge of the trail. His imagination had been seeing for him — but, when he actually looked, with his eyes, and not his imagination, he saw only darkness below. Not at all what he expected. He wiped his eyes, and looked again. He looked, and looked into Green River Canyon, but he saw no green, and no river. The canyon was painted, for miles, as far as he could tell, in black, and only black. In his imagination, he'd heard boys and girls yelping with delight as they splashed and played, and all against the backdrop of a cheerfully roaring river — but, when he actually inclined his ear, and listened, he was disturbed to find: nothing, a void of sound. He couldn't detect even the crackling of a stream, much less the roar of a river.

The bottom of the canyon lay in darkness, only darkness: at first, a darkness not dangerous, only mysterious: the kind of darkness, because unknown, that beckons, with hidden treasure. He found this darkness coolly inviting: canoes! fire! flying fish! fun! and smores! The boy tried to see past the darkness, beyond it — but, the more he really looked, the more he saw only darkness: no light, no fires, not as much a flickering flame — only darkness, and beneath the darkness, darkness, and behind and beyond and below the darkness, darkness: darkness, striking not only the vision, but also the affections. All he saw, as far as he saw, was emptiness, with darkness full. This was a darkness full with promises, yes, but these promises were unfulfilled to his boyish eyes. He believed his eyes. At once, like a man shaking off dust, he shook off his plan of running away.

Green River Canyon was a lie he had told himself a minute before; a lie he now utterly rejected. He felt, in that moment, as much as any boy can feel it, the presence of evil. 

Grasping for some light on the darkness down there, he called out to his Father, "What's down there dad? Are mom and Alice down there?"

His father peered over the edge, "Down there? I don't know, son. As for mom and Alice, they're a long way east of here, on the other side of the county, 25 miles at least, in the Park. Down there? Nobody is down there." 

"I thought Mom and Alice were in Green River Canyon," the boy whispered.

"No," the father said, stopping to take a good look at the darkness beneath him, and feeling — as much as any man can feel it — the presence of evil. This evil he did not understand, but he felt it close, and dangerous: a close danger just barely, in the nick of time, escaped. The father wiped his brow, and sighed, like a man who'd just felt a bullet graze his face.

The father looked on his small son, and saw in his eyes a similar reckoning. At once, an understanding passed between father and son: the son's whole desperate escape was written on his face, and then, the son's repentance. This surprised the father. He had not reckoned his son a creature capable of being perplexed, or ensnared, by such dark places. He'd hoped to protect him from evils without, to preserve his innocence, and he had. But what of the evils within?

"No," the father went on, "they are in Green River Canyon Park."

The boy gulped, and thanked the heavens he hadn't followed through with his desperate escape; he had escaped, just barely, from his desperate escape.

Part III: Fear and Tears

The father marched boldly upward, always 3 steps in front of his son — never more, never less — with long, quick, slow, sure, strides. He stepped confidently, but carefully and wisely, and only on solid ground; every step was planned, to the millimeter, based on the intelligence his eyes provided his feet.

His boy hustled behind him, anxiously, kicking up dust with frantic churning strides. More than once he wanted to ask his father to slow down — but he never did. His father was a man, a real man — the kind of man he wanted to be — the kind of man who did not complain — the kind of man to go on despite hardship. So, partly from shame, partly from love, the boy trudged on, always 3 steps behind his father — 3 steps, never more, never less — with short, shaky, fearful strides.

They had been hiking for an hour when they came to a section of rock face jutting out above the trail. The father knelt beneath the rock, and crawled under it. Then, for the first time that day, he disappeared out of his son's sight. He was still — the boy knew deep down, in a place deeper than the canyon — 3 steps close — but this truth was drown in a flurry of fears. All at once, all the fears of that day, and all days, past and future, seized the boy. He was afraid of being alone; he was afraid of falling; he was afraid of getting lost; he was afraid of taking a disastrous wrong turn; he was afraid of disappointing his father — but, more than anything, and more than all his fears combined — he was afraid of losing his father. The boy's heart shattered, and all reason left him for a moment. The world turned grey and colorless and chaotic and dreadful. Father was gone! Gone! Weighty tears came to the boy's large grey eyes, and rolled in silent scores drowsily down his dirty face.

"Son? Son!" his father said.
"Daddy! Daddy!" the boy answered.
"What's wrong?" the father asked, sensing — in a place deeper than the canyon — every single one of his son's fears, and feeling — in a place deeper than the canyon — every one of his son's tears.
"N... N... nothing," the boy said, wiping his face in an effort to clean himself up before his father saw him.
The father replied, with grave care, "What is wrong son?"

These words rang with severity, but also kindness. They rang with united power, but a dizzying diversity of qualities: qualities incompatible in a little boy's mind: rebuke, but also comfort; courage, but also fear; understanding, but also confusion; grief, but also joy; life, but also —  and this took the boy's breath — death.

The words rang out across the 3 steps between father and son, then bounced across the rock face, down into the canyon, back up the canyon walls, and into the chaotic empty space until, at last, they dropped, still ringing, in the boy's ears. As they rang, they brought order, and clarity, and color back into the little boys world. The picture around and above the boy changed as these words dove down into the canyon of his heart. A picture is worth a thousand words, but these words had power to change a thousand pictures — to change, even, the sweeping picture of a life — this boy's life. And they did.

"What is wrong?" the words echoed in the canyon of the boy's heart, with creative expectation, with longing insistent – longing bordering on demanding – demand to be heard. They echoed as a question, but also as an answer. 

"What is wrong son?"

And the boy knew: his father was not disappointed by the truth of his tears, but the suppressing of the truth: disappointed, not by truth, but the lie. His father was not disappointed by his son's fear of loneliness, or falling, or or failing, or being lost. Rather, he was disappointed that his son feared disappointing him.

"I'm scared," the boy said  and when he'd said it, he was no longer scared.

Then, the boy broke, joyfully, into the tears he had suppressed. The tears came as remnants of old, unfamiliar, feelings: like the aftershocks of an earthquake. The tears came, not from fear, but fearlessness: not from the dread of disappointing, but rather the assurance of, fatherly love. 

As the years unrolled in this boys life, he was followed by these words. And he followed these words. He never forgot them; even in old age, after he had lost everything he treasured in this world, even then, these words were fresh and alive and weighty as gold, "What is wrong, son?" Sometimes the words came as a rebuke when his hand was about to touch something unclean; sometimes, as comfort, when his heart was low — but they always came, like the visits of a faithful friend, and they always said exactly what he needed to hear. The boy's life changed; the words never changed, but they grew. They grew into every corner of his life, "What is wrong, son?" These words echoed.

They echoed, then, and over the rolling years, assuring the boy it was fine to weep; they echoed, then, and over the rolling years, as a reminder that he must not weep forever. The echoed, 31 years later, long after the boy became a man, on the day he lost his wife to a drunk driver. They echoed 42 years later, when the boy, now an old man, lost his vision to a stroke. They echoed throughout the boy's life, and even on his death bed, when he repeated the exact same words, with the exact same cadence, to his own son. They echoed when the boy, now an old man, breathed his last. And then, in eternity, they echoed still.

Part IV: Footsteps

The higher they went, the skinnier the trail, the deadlier the fall. Near the middle of the mountain, after two hours of hard hiking, the father fell to daydreaming. In what was his one and only thoughtless second of the day, he lost sight of the path beneath him, and placed his right foot on a loose rock. The rock slipped suddenly from under him. As it did, gravity took hold of his body with a kindly, almost gentle, violence. The father fell backward, and levitated for a moment over the canyon deeps; he peered as far as he could into the depths below, but he only saw darkness, and after the darkness, more darkness. There, suspended, he saw his feet, off the ground, far away from his body, like they were someone else's feet. Gravity was calling him, pulling him, enticing him into the deeps; this call he did not heed. Instead, with a gesture akin to a man taking a ladies hand, he reach forth, and clung to the rock face to his left. He braced himself. His hand, still powerful and quick from his days as an amateur boxer, twisted his whole body in mid air, like it was a loose door knob, and set his wayward feet back on solid ground. The father was surprised by his own strength, and looked down at his hand curiously like it was someone else's hand.

The son, just three steps behind, stepped on the same rock, and flew up into the same light air; he also reached out for the rock face — but his hands were too small to get a hold. He went tumbling forward into the deeps. He was surprised, as he fell — not by his fall — but by how easy it was – so much easier than the labor of hiking. And this was a lesson that stood by him his life long. He surmised, then and always, the easy way is not the good way.

The boy flailed like a madman: reaching, struggling, fighting, kicking the air, and cursing the darkness below.

At the last second, with nothing but a red shoe in sight, the father reached over the edge, and grabbed the boy by his shoelaces with the same strong hand that had, moment's before, brought him back to life. He swung his son up, up, up, like it was a game, and rolled him into his arms, gripping him tightly, like a found treasure. As he pulled his son closer — there was no such thing as close enough right then — he was surprised by how little the boy weighed, how weak the boy seemed. The child was smaller and frailer than he'd imagined. 

"I love you," he said, and the boy marveled.

Had his Father ever said this to him before? Maybe. He couldn't remember. He knew for sure, his father had never said these words like this.

The loose rock careened down the mountain, and into the abyss. They never heard it hit bottom.

Frustrated, the father yelled at his son, "Be careful!" 

"You be careful!" the son answered, eyes wild and wide, while looking into the darkness, and quaking with fear.

"Me?" said the father.

"Yes, you," answered the son, "I am, after all, walking in your footsteps. You are taller than me, and bigger than me, and I can't see past you – but I can see your footsteps, and I plant my feet in them. So, you be careful. I step wherever you step."

Part V: The End Of The Trail

The father and son reached the top of the mountain 4 minutes and (by the boy's count) 128 steps later. 

The boy gazed, for a long time, back down at the trail they'd just hiked. 

"How far did we hike? How long did it take us?" the boy said, absently, excitedly.

The father smiled and waited for his son to answer his own question.

The boy hopped with glee, and exclaimed, "How far? How long? To the end of the trail – no matter how long, or how far!"

Then, as a victory celebration, he lifted his fist, punched a whole in the empty air, and shouted, "I did it!" He paused, feeling his victory was incomplete. Then, he jumped into his father's arms, shaking with joy, and yelled, "No... we did it!"

The father and son walked over the edge of the trail and stood on the highest peak of the mountain. They looked then upon a sunset which the boy tried many times in after years, with not much success, to put into writing. His own words always failed him, but there were some other words that always came to mind, as the perfect description of that day, and that sunset:

Darkness was upon the face of the deep.
And the Spirit of God moved
upon the face of the waters.
And God said, "Let there be light,"
and there was light.
And God saw the light,
that it was good.

As they gazed over a measureless horizon lit yellow and orange by the setting sun, their eyes were bottomless — like wells fitted to store beauty. The beauty of all things flooded their vision in ceaseless waves, and they were surprised to find, after each wave, the capacity for another, and another, and another. The Sun beamed on the father; the father beamed on the son. The son wanted to say something, but checked himself. He was hushed, at first, by the solemness of the beauty, and finally, by the overwhelming kindness of the beauty. The world appeared to him a bright shiny gift, a continual Christmas. The idea that he had once thought of turning back, hopping the trail — the idea that he might have missed this moment — made him cherish it all the more, and at the same time, feel unworthy of it. His former plan of escape now appeared to him as the worst idea of his whole life. And he realized, it didn't have to be this way. Any boy in all the world could be standing right there right then, and yet he was. He was special, not in that he deserved so much, but in that he deserved so little, and received so much.

The father finally broke the silence. He asked, "What can you see, son?" 

The boy answered, "Everything."

Fatherhood: The Inescapablity (And Joy) of Influence

by CWK

From, The Father and The Son, A Parable With Four Movements, Part IV: Footsteps

The higher they went, the skinnier the trail, the deadlier the fall. Near the middle of the mountain, after two hours of hard hiking, the father fell to daydreaming. In what was his one and only thoughtless second of the day, he lost sight of the path beneath him, and placed his right foot on a loose rock. The rock slipped suddenly from under him just as gravity took hold of him with kindly, almost gentle, violence. The father fell backward, and levitated for a moment over the canyon deeps; he peered as far as he could into the depths below, but he only saw darkness, and after the darkness, more darkness. suspended his feet of the ground he clung to the rock face, and braced himself. His son, just behind him, stepped on the same rock, but his hands were too small to get a hold. He went tumbling forward into the deep canyon. He was surprised, as he fell -- not by his fall -- but by how easy it was -- so much easier than the labor of hiking. Empty air surrounded him and he felt -- for a split second -- free, truly free. At the last second, with nothing but a red shoe in sight, the father reached over the edge and grabbed his the shoelaces. As he pulled his son to safety, he was surprised by how little the boy weighed. The child was smaller and frailer than he remembered. Meanwhile, the loose rock careened down the mountain, and into the abyss. They never heard it hit bottom.

Angry, and frustrated, the father yelled at his son, "Be careful!"
"You be careful!" the son answered, eyes wild and wide, while looking into the abyss, and quaking with fear.
"Me?" said the father.
"Yes, you," answered the son, "I am, after all, walking in your footsteps. You are taller than me, and bigger than me, and I can't see past you -- but I can see your footsteps, and I plant my feet in them. So, you be careful; I step wherever you step."

***

Children follow in their father's footsteps. This can lead to a beautiful life, as in the care of John Adams and John Quincy Adams, or a sad life, as in the case of  Hank Williams, and Hank Jr. -- "If I get stoned and sing all night long, its a family tradition." The universe bears the imprint of The Father, and The Son. Therefore, it is inherent in our created-ness that a father's example has a natural -- near irresistible -- force upon a child. This force is present in many relationships a child has (teacher, coach, tutor), but never with the same intensity, or compulsion as the Father-Son relationship.

Children mimic, with a sometimes frustrating exactitude, the deeds of their fathers. This is the way it is; this is reality: we may wish it was otherwise   we wish in vain. This is 'sometimes frustrating' because, sometimes, fathers would rather children do what they say, and not what they do. By the way, the moment we say, "Do what I say; not what I do" we have just set another bad example: preach what you do not practice. Actually, it would be better to simply set a bad example than go a step further, and advise a life of hypocrisy.

Whether they like it or note, Fathers exert a natural force upon their children's lives; it's the way thing are. When we look to the Kingdom of God, we see a similar dynamic: God The Father exerts a supernatural force upon His children's lives. This is so even if our earthly father set a terrible example.

I believe in the love of God. It is an orphan's wildest dream. It is a narrow little road. It is an ever widening desert stream. -- Mo Leverett, Narrow Little Road.

In the Kingdom of God, God is our Father. God has adopted us into His family, changed our nature, and changed our family association from "child of the devil" to "child of God." We have been born again, not because we chose to be, but by the power of God -- God has reached down from heaven and changed everything. Here's my translation of John 3:3:

Jesus replied, I swear to you — Amen — absolutely no one can see the Kingdom of God unless he is born - not from man, but God, by God's power and divine initiative — all over again.

In other words, seeing and being in the Kingdom of God is impossible by any earthly effort; it does not depend on man's desire or effort. In addition, seeing the Kingdom of God has nothing to do with who our parent's are, or our ancestry (whether good,or bad, high or low, royalty or beggar).

God brings us, graciously into his family; then, as our Father, he sets down for us, by virtue of His character and action, the steps we ought to take; the kind of people we ought to be. He demonstrates exactly where to place our feet. This reality of being/doing like God is always, to some degree, present in the life of the Christian; we can't help but be like our Father.

By this it is evident who are the children of God, and who are the children of the devil: whoever does not practice righteousness is not of God, nor is the one who does not love his brother.- 1 John 3:10

Likeness to our Father is inevitable, and a fit test of any christian profession. This likeness comes (supernaturally) naturally to a child of God. At the same time, God's children should strive to be like their Father in Heaven.  We ought to take God as our Father in the sense that we carefully examine His character and strive to act in accord with it (Mt. 5:45).

The Father-Son relationship also transfers over to the Church. If we are individually the children of God, then the Church is the gathering of the children of God. Every church event is a family reunion. This family dynamic should control how we think about our church, our relationships within the Church, and ourselves as church members. We are a family. This has implications for how we interact. Paul told Timothy,

Do not rebuke an older man but encourage him as you would a father, younger men as brothers, older women as mothers, younger women as sisters, in all purity.
-1 Timothy 5:1-2

I once heard a speaker rebuke a group of christian young people because, he felt, they were not "friendly" enough with each other. He then went on to boast about his diversity of female friends. Unfortunately, he used 1 Tim. 5:2 to make his case. I fear, not that his rebuke was too grand, but that it was too small. The point of 1 Timothy 5:2 is not that we ought be more "friendly," but that we out be more "family." The point is not that we should have ties with others in the church; the point is that we should recognize, and nurture, family ties within the church. We ought to see each other in a certain way: brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers. We ought to see each other the way God our Father sees us.

Back to the issue of fatherhood. The family ties of the church out to result in older men regarding younger men with fatherly concern. Paul calls Timothy his son in the faith (1 Timothy 1:2): by this, he means, Timothy is to follow his example, step where he steps. He calls him his true son because Timothy is really and truly his son in Christ. The relationship they have bears the weight and influence -- not just of a coach or teacher -- but a father and son.

Teachers influence us, and the current controlling metaphor for the 'influencers' of the next generations is teacher. But teaching only implies a certain amount of influence in a certain area of life, namely, intellectual. Fatherhood implies a weight of influence over the whole of one's life. One father is worth a thousand teachers. The christian knows God as his father; he also knows, and experiences the grace, of being apart of the christian family. Herein, he has not one, but many fathers. If one father is worthy a thousand teachers -- how much is 5 fathers worth? 10? I've probably had between 10-15 christian men who loved me like a son. What a fellowship! What a joy divine! Oh, how rich is the Christian.

Respect In The Graveyard

by CWK

I want to return to an earlier theme from this blog: the importance of respect for nurturing the heart of a man. Women crave love, usually in the form of affection and tenderness; men crave love also, usually in the form of respect. 

Men want, more than anything else in the universe, to be respected. The want to be listened to. They want their opinion to weigh. They want to be regarded, a person of interest, a person worthy of notice. They want their reputation to shine. They want others to look to them for guidance. They want the weak, assured of solidity, to lean on them. They want the strong to respect, or else fear, them. They want good men to count on them, tired men to flee to them, and bad men to flee from them. They want to kill dragons and rescue damsels. Men want to be generals, pro-football players, policemen, fire-fighters, fighters, conquerors, warriors, leaders, hunters -- they want the world to see them, and nod with -- if only slight -- deference. Men want to be heroes. Men want flowers delivered, not to their desks, but their tombstones.

But it's a hard hard world; a world at war on the dignity of humanity in general, and men in particular. The world is filled with open graves into which a man might fall and die. Where are such graves? The Bible says our mouths are open graves -- dangerous places within it'd be better not to fall -- and we kill each other with our slights, asides, slanders, and dismissals. Many men die, before the day on their death certificate, having expired under the hot lava of disdain. Sometimes such disdain is contained, not in the content, but the manner of the words. It is possible to tell a man "I respect you" in such a way, such a manner, with such connotations, that he loses all self-respect.

One scene from Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind has always rattled around in my heart. It pictures the kind of sensitivity men have to disregard; it pictures how easy it is to unravel a man's dignity to the point he just runs away.

Joel: I walked out, I walked out the door!

Clementine: Why?

Joel: I don't know. I felt like I was a scared little kid, I was like … it was above my head, I don't know.

Clementine: You were scared?

Joel: Yeah. I thought you knew that about me. I ran back to the bonfire, trying to outrun my humiliation, I think.

Clementine: Was it something I said?

Joel: Yeah, you said "so go." With such disdain, you know?

Clementine: Oh, I'm sorry.

Joel: It's okay.

Many men die a slow and agonizing death under a withering scorn: perhaps, under the watchful eye of displeased (albeit always smiling) wives; perhaps, under the mocking (albeit supposedly good-natured) taunts and nicknames of buddies; perhaps, under the micromanaging eye of a boss who, year after year, fails to notice good work. The graveyard of the tongue fills the world with graveyards of men. Zombies are popular now; they represent the living dead. Zombies walk around with only the merest shreds of life: there is nothing vital in them; no energy; no remnants of true breathing humanity. The world is, at this moment, full of zombies: men alive on the outside, but nowhere else -- men who have died from disrespect.

Even the man who is respected encounters a dizzying path to self-respect. Respect, when held out, is only held out grudgingly. The famous line from Rocky comes to mind, "You want (your) respect? Come and get it!"

Respect -- men need it, not just to thrive, but to live, to survive. With it, men rise like conquerors. With it, men live heroic lives -- without it, men die tragic deaths.

This essay was prompted after reading a recent post from musician and poet Mo Leverett:

At this moment I sit outdoors a coffee shop in Tallahassee, FL – the place where my children and first wife live – a place where I once shepherded a church. Perhaps I will speak of this later – we’ll see. My son has a game tonight that I will attend. I rarely miss one, though I live almost 3 hours away. Yesterday he stroked a ball that hit the top of the fence about a foot short from going over. I’ve had similar hits – and never a home run. Such is the story of my life. I hope by my support and encouragement before the season’s over – he’ll have that memory of circling the bases triumphantly. Something his Dad has not yet known but aspired to and probably secretly continues to vicariously through him.

Men want that – to be celebrated, respected. Wise women understand. Our dream is not so much to be cherished but to be heroic. I always dreamed of being significant – I used to imagine myself on a field of football dreams making an incredible move, followed by overpowering an unsuspecting defensive cornerback or linebacker, accelerating with incomparable speed and crossing the goal line with football high-lifted in the air. That’s where my dreams began – with a football.

My father played football and we, my siblings and I, were immersed in it as a pseudo-religion. For me it was the only worthwhile life aspiration – to play professional football. Everything else was something short of the pinnacle plan. My love of football was in its essence a form of father worship. It was the place where I had hoped to please him, to gain his respect, approval and affirmation. For my father it was a place of discipline into the higher manifestations of hyper-masculinity.

Some things are worse than War; Some things are better than Peace

"If I must choose between righteousness and peace, I choose righteousness."

Theodore Roosevelt, America and the World War (1915).

The Best Prize = Hard Work

CWK

Far and away the best prize that life has to offer is the chance to work hard at work worth doing.
-Theordore Roosevelt

The reward for slackness in our studies, an undisciplined mind, is an undisciplined mind.

-Augustine

Howard Stern, questioning the wisdom of Louis CK taking a year off from his show:
Stern: Aren't you afraid that the show... could lose the audience and momentum (if you take a year off).
Louis CK: I don't look after the spectacle of things, the career story... the only thing you can look after is the work. How good is the show? That's what matters to me.

***

The reward for faithfulness is work; the reward for more faithfulness is more work, and harder work, and more demanding work. The man who derides work gets what he wants: nothing difficult; nothing ventured, and nothing gained. On the other hand, the man who chooses hard work, who chases difficulties, and runs them down, and conquers them, gets what he wants as well: more difficulties, more labor, more hardship-- and he smiles.

Some men consider work a curse; however, work is NOT a curse; the curse is ON work -- and they are partly right, God has cursed work -- but, ironically, when it comes to work: the blessing is contained in the curse. If nothing else, hard work teaches us our own weakness; it teaches us all is not right with the world; it teachers us we need a Redeemer. Those men who will not bear the curse, will not reap the blessing.

We run from work because we are running from The Fall. We are running  from brokenness; running from reality; running from realism; running from hard things; we want to numb ourselves; forget it all.

The apostle Paul viewed his tremendous labors, and the sufferings that attended them, as a MERCY: "... Since through God's mercy we have this ministry (1 Cor. 4.1)."

***

Whatever may be his situation in life, labor is necessary to exercise and develop the muscular powers of his body. If he grows up in indolence, he will be weak... never possessing the vigor of a man. And whatever sphere of life he may occupy hereafter, he will never possess independence and energy of character enough to accomplish anything.

A man who does not know how to work, is not more than half a man. He is so dependent upon others, that he can accomplish nothing without help. Nor can wealth, or education, or professional knowledge, supply the deficiency. Wealth is very uncertain. “Riches take to themselves wings;” and they are especially liable to fly away from men who have been bred up in idle, do-nothing habits. And what will they do when their wealth is gone? They have never made any exertion, or depended on themselves. They have no energy of character. They have no knowledge of any useful employment. They cannot dig, and to beg they are ashamed. They either sink down, in utter discouragement, to the lowest depths of poverty, or else they resort to dishonest means of obtaining money.

I have before me a letter, written to a gentleman in Boston, from a boy in the House of Correction, who got there by trying to live without work. After telling how bad he felt to be shut up in prison, and how bitter his reflections upon his past life were, he says, “I thought that as long as I could live without work, and get my living dishonestly, I would go ahead; but my high life was soon stopped.” Here you perceive that his temptation to be dishonest arose from his dislike of work. But now, he says, he is convinced that the best way to get a living is by honest labor. And so you will find it. There is no one more exposed to temptation than the idle boy. “Satan finds some mischief still    For idle hands to do.” One who undertakes to get a living without work will be very likely to fall into dishonest practices, and get shut up in prison. Equally necessary is it for a man of learning, or a professional man, to know how to do with his own hands the most common things. If dependent on his own earnings for a support, he will not be able to hire everything done to his hand; or, if able, he will not always find anyone to do it. And as to the merchant, his life, from the very first, is a life of incessant toil and labor.
 - Harvey Newcomb, How to Be a Man; How to Be a Lady: A Book for Children, Containing Useful Hints On the Formation of Character (Kindle Locations 1306-1314). Lulu. Kindle Edition.

***

But he is chicken-hearted. Instead of conquering his work, he suffers his work to conquer him. He works briskly for a few minutes, and then he begins to flag. Instead of working away, with steady perseverance, he stops every minute or two, and looks at his work, and wishes it were done. But wishing is not working; and his work does not get done in this way. The more he gazes at it, the more like a mountain it appears. At length, he sits down to rest; and finally, after having suffered more from the dread of exertion than it would have cost him to do his work a dozen times, he gives it up, and goes to his father or mother, and in a desponding tone and with a sheepish look, he says, “I can’t do it!” He is a coward. He has suffered himself to be conquered by a wood-pile which he was told to saw, or by a few weeds in the garden that he was required to dig up. He will never make a man, till he gets courage enough to face his work with resolution, and to finish it with a manly perseverance. “I can’t,” never made a man.
 - Harvey Newcomb, How to Be a Man; How to Be a Lady: A Book for Children, Containing Useful Hints On the Formation of Character (Kindle Locations 1292-1293).

Evaluating our Values

CWK

We always pay dearly for chasing after what is cheap.
― Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

Money never made a man happy yet, nor will it. The more a man has, the more he wants. Instead of filling a vacuum, it makes one.

 ― Benjamin Franklin

***

What does it profit a man if he gains the whole world and loses his soul?
― Mark 8:36

Profit? Gain? Jesus is trying to instill a value system. He is trying to teach us what one soul – our one and only precious soul – is worth – more than the whole world; more than all the money in all the world; more than all the pleasures in all the world. Jesus is teaching us values.

The first lesson of values, the kindergarten of moral education, is this: some things are more valuable than others. 

Some things are more valuable than others. 


This is a simple, but stark, and profoundly powerful reality: somethings are more – way more – valuable than others. This is stark reality: as clear as the sun in the sky. We all acknowledge it; no one, after all, pays $2000.00 for a pencil, or $100.00 for a pack of gum – but many many people trade their souls for the equivalent of a pack of gum.

To teach us this, Jesus places on the scale two objects of worth. On the one side: our soul; on the other side: the whole wide world. Weigh these out, he urges; do the math. There is some one thing that is more valuable than every single thing in all the world (all the clothes, houses, cars, gadgets, TV's, vacations, beaches, towers, countries, mountains, rivers, oceans): YOUR SOUL. Our soul is more valuable – not just than everything else in the world – but than everything else in the world combined.


When purchasing a thing, it is customary to ask, "How much?" How much does this cost? Then, once we know the price, we debate: is it worth it? We would all call the man a fool who paid $2000.00 for a pencil. Why? Because, clearly, this man does not the value of things.

A man with values is a man who has ordered his world according to the understanding that some things are more valuable than others. Lesson # 1: your soul is more valuable than anything else you will ever set your eyes on in this terrestial ball.

A thing is valuable if it, 1) lasts, 2) is beautiful (made well), 3) is good (well made), 4) is unique, 5) is ours, or bears some special relationship to us (i.e. your grandfather's watch).

Think back on Jesus words: "Loses his soul" – His one and only soul which must endure forever in either heaven or hell. Here is a thing that lasts forever, has potential to be gloriously beautiful, was made well by God, and is ours, and ours alone. With regard to the things around us, we need to know this: nothing is more valuable than a soul: our soul.

Different things have different value: yet, many live as if nothing but material possession or passing pleasure had much value. 

The man, for example, who sacrifices his marriage to his loving wife for the sake of a tryst with a stranger – he's like a man who trades $100.00 for a pack of gum; he's like a man who trades a brand new Lexus for a beat up '81 Pinto. A pastor friend once confronted such a man after an short-lived affair had ruined his marriage, decimated his 5 children, and alienated his close friends. The pastor asked him, "How could you pawn gold for dirt? How could you trade everything for nothing?"

Different things have different worth. When buying, this means some things are worth so much, and no more. Some things are overpriced; others, under-priced. We need to consider the cost of a thing before buying it; then, we need to consider what that thing is worth, really worth, TO US. As Jesus said, "Count the cost." In material matters, everyone counts the cost; in spiritual and moral matters, few do.

When making a business deal, it is customary to ask, "How much?" Let's take a moment and do some eternal business; let's consider the ledger on our souls; let's take a look at God's bank, and see how our account stands.

I submit to you that, at present, many things which are in actuality junk, are overpriced; many things which are truly eternally valuable are under priced. 

Our value system is disordered, and we are paying exorbitant prices for things that aren't worth a dime. Meanwhile, we are having a fire sale on things that will last forever – either honorably, or dishonorably – in the ages to come. At present, eternal things like truth, righteousness, love, integrity, loyalty, goodness, and the human soul are being devalued, and thrown out with the trash. At present, things like cars, houses, Ipods, custom rims, and designer clothes are ridiculously overpriced. People are literally selling their souls for designer jeans. 

We are being cheated, and we are cheating ourselves. Why? Because our value system is disordered: we have lost sight of what is actually valuable. Many, if not most, of our 'valuables' are, within a true E-VALUE-ATION, not valuable at all; and, we are undervaluing truly valuable things. 

There are many, many, many things more valuable than our 'valuables.' In fact, we ought to consider what our valuables are. Electronics? A nice care? A fine house? Designer clothes?

Let's focus on electronics for a moment. Consider, with the speed technology is moving, 5 months from now, most of our electronics will be outdated. Consider: 5 years from all of our snazzy electronics will be mocked – like we do VHS tapes – as has-been technology of old-timers. Consider: 50 years from now all our electronics will be in a landfill somewhere; meanwhile, most of us will be in eternity: beggars forever, in eternity.

There are no Ipods in Hell. 

Augustine once rebuked his generation, "Most men would rather have a good house than a good life." Why? Because they consider a good house of more value than a good life; their consideration needs adjustment. There are many, many things more valuable than our valuables: honor, freedom, the truth – these are all things more valuable than all the money in all the banks in the world. 

The problem is, those banks are probably filled with money got by dishonor, enslavement, and lies. This means that some of the richest men in the eyes of the world are, in fact, when it comes to a true E-VALUE-ATION, some of the poorest; they possess only trinkets. Meanwhile, utter beggars walk the world as unknown rich men. The poorest beggar in the poorest neighborhood in the world may, in fact, be far wealthier than anyone on the Fortune 500 list. Such a man may be rich with honor, freedom, and truth: in other words, truly rich. I'd like to see God's fortune 500 list sometime; it would rattle the world. He's hinted at it in these cryptic words, "Blessed are the poor."

The book of Proverbs often uses the phrase, "It is better..." 

It is better to be humble in spirit with the lowly Than to divide the spoil with the proud (Pr 16.19).

And, Jesus employs this formula often, "It is better... (Acts 20.35)" Why? Because the Bible is trying to instill a TRUE value system into our hearts and minds. Some  things are more valuable than others: it is better to be poor than a liar; it is better to be hungry than a scoundrel; it is better to be homeless than a thief; it is better to get an F, and fail, than cheat, and get an A; it is better to have no friends than bad friends; it is better to lose everything in the world than lose your soul in eternity.

Better, that is, if you understand what a thing is really worth.

King Xerxes of Persia once offered Leonidas, the storied Spartan General, the kingship of all of Greece in exchange for cooperation with the Persian conquest of Greece. I can hear Xerxes now, "You could be King! Leader, not just of your people, but all Greek peoples! The greatest man in all of Greece." And, in our own day, men are willing to trade their sacred honor in order to be King of their small circle of 5 friends. We have politicians in America who have sold their everlasting soul for the prestige of leading a city. So, how did Leonidas respond? 

"No deal."

The exact quote is, 

If you knew what is good in life, you would abstain from wishing for foreign things. For me it is better to die for Greece than to be monarch over my compatriots.

"If you knew what was good... it is better." Leonidas did the math in his head, and he saw plainly that it wasn't worth it. There was something more valuable than being King of Greece. In his mind, Xerxes was a charlatan salesman, offering him a pencil in exchange for a stack of gold. No deal.

 A man once bought a new car using money that was, in every sense, "ill-gotten gain," and "filthy lucre." He'd sacrificed his honesty and integrity as a middle man for "under the table" deals. He asked, "How do you like my car?" 

I responded, "How do you like your heart?"

"Give me a break," he answered, "I deserve a nice car. I've worked hard."

"How much?" I answered.

"For the car?" he replied.

"No – how much for your soul? How much of your soul did you sell? Your principles? Your values? How much? What did that car really cost you?"

As we lose our values, we lose the ability to value. Thus, Jesus says, "Don't throw pearls before swine." He is saying, "Don't give something precious and valuable to someone who does not understand its worth; such a person will, "turn and devour you." Strange, but true: You can give some people a diamond, and they will just throw it in the gutter, and turn and strike you down. Such people have no sense of the values of things; they cannot be trusted with true valuables.

As we lose our sense of value, something else happens. Something terrible. We begin to lose our value. We become light and insubstantial, like chaff the wind blows away (Psalm 1:1-2). We lose weight in the universe. A man with no values ends up having no value. 

Suffer me therefore, finally, to entreat you earnestly to "give yourself to prayer, to reading, and meditation" on divine truths: strive to penetrate to the bottom of them, and never be content with a superficial knowledge. By this means, your thoughts will gradually grow weighty and judicious; and you hereby will be possessed of a valuable treasure, out of which you may produce "things new and old," to the glory of God.
-David Brainerd

***
John Bunyan, The Greatness of The Soul:

Because the soul, and the salvation of it, are such great, such wonderful great things; nothing is a matter of that concern as is, and should be, the soul of each one of you. House and land, trades and honours, places and preferments, what are they to salvation? to the salvation of the soul?

..Because I perceive that this so great a thing, and about which persons should be so much concerned, is neglected to amazement, and that by the most of men; yea, who is there of the many thousands that sit daily under the sound of the gospel that are concerned, heartily concerned, about the salvation of their souls?that is, concerned, I say, as the nature of the thing requireth. If ever a lamentation was fit to be taken up in this age about, for, or concerning anything, it is about, for, and concerning the horrid neglect that everywhere puts forth itself with reference to salvation. Where is one man in a thousand, yea, where is there two of ten thousand that do show by their conversation, public and private, that the soul, their own souls, are considered by them, and that they are taking that care for the salvation of them as becomes them, to wit, as the weight of the work, and the nature of salvation requireth? 

...the loss of the soul is the highest, the greatest loss; a loss that can never be repaired or made up. 

...How many are there that make the object of their love the most vile of men, the most base of things, because it flows from vile affections, and from the lusts of the flesh? God and Christ, good laws and good men, and their holy lives, they cannot abide, because their love wanteth a principle that should sanctify it in it's first motion, and that should steer it to a goodly object. 

***

If we lose the virile, manly qualities, and sink into a nation of mere hucksters, putting gain over national honor, and subordinating everything to mere ease of life, then we shall indeed reach a condition worse than that of the ancient civilizations in the years of their decay."

– "The Law of Civilization and Decay", The Forum (January 1897), reprinted in American Ideals (1926), vol. 13 of The Works of Theodore Roosevelt, national ed., chapter 15, pp. 259–60.

***

“That which is called humanism, but what would be more correctly called irreligious anthropocentrism , cannot yield answers to the most essential questions of our life”
– Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

“If humanism were right in declaring that man is born to be happy, he would not be born to die. Since his body is doomed to die, his task on earth evidently must be of a more spiritual nature. It cannot the unrestrained enjoyment of everyday life. It cannot be the search for the best ways to obtain material goods and then cheerfully get the most out of them. It has to be the fulfillment of a permanent, earnest duty so that one's life journey may become an experience of moral growth, so that one may leave life a better human being than one started it. It is imperative to review the table of widespread human values. Its present incorrectness is astounding. It is not possible that assessment of the President's performance be reduced to the question of how much money one makes or of unlimited availability of gasoline. Only voluntary, inspired self-restraint can raise man above the world stream of materialism.”
― Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

“Bless you prison, bless you for being in my life. For there, lying upon the rotting prison straw, I came to realize that the object of life is not prosperity as we are made to believe, but the maturity of the human soul.” 

― Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, The Gulag Archipelago 1918-1956

***
Once a man ceases to recognize the infinite value of the human soul... then all he can 
recognize is that man is something to be used. But then he will also have to go further and
recognize that some men can no longer be utilized, and he arrives at the concept that there are some lives that have no value at all. 

― Helmut Thielicke

***

Consider how much God hath done for us, how greatly he hath loved us, what he hath given us, when we were so unworthy, and when he could have no addition to his happiness by us. Consider that silver, and gold, and earthly crowns, were in his esteem but mean things to give us, and he hath therefore given us his own Son. Christ loved and pitied us, when we were poor, and he laid out himself to help, and even did shed his own blood for us without grudging. He did not think much to deny himself, and to be at great cost for us vile wretches, in order to make us rich, and to clothe us with kingly robes, when we were naked; to feast us at his own table with dainties infinitely costly, when we were starving; to advance us from the dunghill, and set us among princes, and make us to inherit the throne of his glory, and so to give us the enjoyment of the greatest wealth and plenty to all eternity... How unsuitable is it for us, who live only by kindness, to be unkind!

― Jonathan Edwards

***

WE are professors of Christianity, we pretend to be the followers of Jesus, and to make the gospel our rule. We have the Bible in our houses. Let us not behave ourselves in this particular, as if we had never see the Bible, as if we were ignorant of Christianity, and knew not what kind of religion it is. What will it signify to pretend to be Christians, and at the same time to live in the neglect of those rules of Christianity which are mainly insisted on in it?
― Jonathan Edwards

***

The soul of man is like a cipher, which is valued by that which is set before it. If it weary itself in the desire of earthly things, like the silk-worm, it finishes its work with its own destruction. But if on things above, when this earthly tabernacle is turned to ashes, there shall result a glorious phoenix for immortality.

― Richard Sibbes, A Breathing After God.

Calvinism: Notes on Passages

There are a few texts that are frequently cited by people who have a distaste for calvinism – calvinism being another word for Biblical Christianity. Let me cite the Biblical evidence for calvinism first.

1.      Total Depravity: Human Beings are dead in their transgression and sins; they cannot come to God; they are enemies of God (Genesis 6:5; Romans 3:23; Ephesians 2:1). Calvinism begins with this point – we are not just crippled; we are dead; we cannot come to God. This first point is crucial. If we believe that human beings are ‘dead in their transgressions and sins’ then we must confess that there is absolutely no way they can save themselves; salvation must be a work of God, and God alone. Dead people cannot rise up out of their graves apart from a miracle of God.

2.      Unconditional Election: God freely elects, or selects his people; he predestines, or chooses them, before the foundation of the world, apart from anything they have done, either good or bad (Ephesians 1:11; all of Romans 9). As Romans 9 so wonderfully puts it, God has mercy on who ever He wants to have mercy on; it has nothing to do with man’s desire or effort. This enables the believer to rest truly in the fact that his salvation is free. It also enables the believer to be truly humble; the only difference between him and anyone else is really and only the mercy of God.

“...before the mountains were brought forth; and long ere the light flashed through the sky, God loved His chosen creatures. Before there was any created being—when the ether was not fanned by an angel's wing, when space itself had not an existence, when there was nothing save God alone—even then, in that loneliness of Deity, and in that deep quiet and profundity, His bowels moved with love for His chosen. Their names were written on His heart, and then were they dear to His soul. Jesus loved His people before the foundation of the world—even from eternity! and when He called me by His grace, He said to me, "I have loved thee with an everlasting love: therefore with lovingkindness have I drawn thee." (Charles Spurgeon: Defense of Calvinism).”

3.   Particular Redemption (sometimes called ‘limited atonement’ or ‘definite atonement’): This means that Christ died for his people, and only his people. He died for all the sins of some men; he did not die for some of the sins of all men. If Christ died for everyone, and all their sins are paid for – then why is there a hell? Why aren’t all men saved? Instead, Christ died to pay for the all the sins of his people (Acts 20:28, John 10:11). In Acts 20:28 we are told that Christ, God, shed his blood to obtain THE CHURCH. In John 10:11 we are told that Christ died for the SHEEP, which is another way of talking about his people, his flock. This truth is a great comfort for the Christian because he realizes that Christ died for him, for all of his sins, and that the Lord Jesus had him in mind when he bled on the cross.

"[If Jesus died for all men]...why then, are not all freed from the punishment of all their sins? You will say, "Because of their unbelief; they will not believe." But unbelief, is a sin, is it not? (John Owen)"

4.   Irresistible Grace: God will draw his people to Himself; no one who is predestined can ‘resist’ the grace of God. Rather, the grace of God will conquer them and bring them to faith (John 6:37, 39).

“I cannot understand the reason why I am saved, except upon the ground that God would have it so. I cannot, if I look ever so earnestly, discover any kind of reason in myself why I should be a partaker of Divine grace. If I am not at this moment without Christ, it is only because Christ Jesus would have His will with me, and that will was that I should be with Him where He is, and should share His glory. I can put the crown nowhere but upon the head of Him whose mighty grace has saved me from going down into the pit. Looking back on my past life, I can see that the dawning of it all was of God; of God effectively. I took no torch with which to light the sun, but the sun enlightened me. I did not commence my spiritual life—no, I rather kicked, and struggled against the things of the Spirit: when He drew me, for a time I did not run after Him: there was a natural hatred in my soul of everything holy and good. Wooings were lost upon me—warnings were cast to the wind—thunders were despised; and as for the whispers of His love, they were rejected as being less than nothing and vanity. But, sure I am, I can say now, speaking on behalf of myself, "He only is my salvation." (Charles Spurgeon: Defense of Calvinism).”

5.   Perseverance of the Saints: God’s people will not and cannot lose their salvation; they will persevere to the end; if someone does not persevere to the end it means they were never a true child of God (John 6:37-39; John 10:28-29; Philippians 1:6; 1 John 2:19). This is one of the most precious truths for the child of God because they understand that they will persevere because GOD perseveres with them.

“...but when I know that those whom God saves He saves with an everlasting salvation, when I know that He gives to them an everlasting righteousness, when I know that He settles them on an everlasting foundation of everlasting love, and that He will bring them to His everlasting kingdom, oh, then I do wonder, and I am astonished that such a blessing as this should ever have been given to me! (Charles Spurgeon: Defense of Calvinism)”

These are not the only texts which demonstrate the 5 points of calvinism, but the ones that come to mind at present.

Now, to the texts frequently cited to disprove calvinism. You will see that the problem is with the way these texts are cited – they are not cited in context. They are used as ‘proof texts’ rather than considering the context of the passage, and scripture as a whole.

1. John 3:16: God so loved the world...

This is taken to mean that God loves everybody the same, and that he gave his son to redeem everyone, and not a select set. However, if we read the rest of the verse we see the exact meaning of the phrase “God so loved the world.”

 “God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son that whosoever believes in him should not perish but have everlasting life.”

John 3:18 elaborates: “Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe in him is condemned already...”

God so loved the world that he gave his son – but why? “That whosoever believes...” These ones will not perish, but will have everlasting life. So, this verse is actually better used as a text in the calvinist scheme!

Believing is the distinguishing mark of a child of God. The child of God hears the gospel and responds with faith. Furthermore, they respond with faith because they have been ordained for eternal life.

Acts 13:48: “As many as were appointed to eternal life believed.”

This verse does not say, “They believed, and that is why they were appointed to eternal life.” Rather, “They were appointed to eternal and that is why they believed.”

The context of Acts 13 is that Paul’s preaching is being resisted and reviled by the Jews (13:45). So, Luke’s point, under the inspiration of the Spirit, is that though some may resist our message we can still be confident that those who are appointed to eternal life will believe. In other words, God’s purposes cannot be thwarted by wicked men who resist the saving message of the gospel.

Or, consider John 10:26: “You do not believe because you are not part of my flock.” Our Lord does not say, “You are not part of my flock because you do not believe.” He says, “You do not believe because you are not part of my flock.” If these men had been, in the words of Acts 13:45 ‘appointed to eternal life’ then they would have believed. Jesus sheep WILL hear his voice, and they will follow him (John 10:27).

We might also consider Ephesians 2:8, “You are saved by grace, through faith, and this not of yourselves. It is the gift of God, so that no one may boast.”

Charles Spurgeon put it like this, “If any man be saved, he is saved by Divine grace, and by Divine grace alone; and the reason of his salvation is not to be found in him, but in God. We are not saved as the result of anything that we do or that we will; but we will and do as the result of God's good pleasure, and the work of his grace in our hearts. No sinner can prevent God; that is, he cannot go before him, cannot anticipate him; God is always first in the matter of salvation... The only reason why any man ever begins to pray is because God has put previous grace in his heart which leads him to pray.”

2. 2 Peter 3:9, “God is not willing that any should perish.”

Again, we need to consider the context.

The whole verse says this, “The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise but is patient toward you, not willing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance.”

Who is it that God is not willing to perish? This verse is not talking about the whole world, everybody – but rather believers. The verse begins by saying, “The Lord is patient toward you...” Who is this ‘you?’ The ‘you’ refers to the believers that Peter is writing to. This verse is making a similar point as John 10:28. God will not let any of his people perish. Indeed, 2 Peter is written to ‘those who have obtained a faith of equal standing with ours (2 Peter 1:1).’ That is the ‘you’ of 2 Peter 2:9. So, this verse is written to believers and is asserting the truth of ‘the perseverance of the saints.’ Again, in context, this verse is better used as evidence in a calvinistic scheme.

Now, we do not know who is elect and who is not elect. God’s revealed will is that we are to preach the gospel to everyone, and that we pray for everyone. God’s secret will is that some will be saved, and some perish, ‘according to the counsel of his will (Ephesians 1:11)” Someone might ask, “If this is true – if God has elected some to everlasting life – then why preach the gospel?” First, because God Almighty has commanded it. Second, because the same God who ordains the end also ordains the means. God has ordained that the preaching of the gospel will be the means of salvation.

3. 1 Timothy 2:4, “God desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth.”

The key word in this verse is ‘all.’ So, the person seeking to disprove calvinism will say, “See there, God desires all people to be saved... he doesn’t predestine anyone – he wants everyone to be saved.”

However, a moment’s thought tells us that NOT all people are saved. So, this verse cannot mean “God’s secret will is that all people be saved.” If that was so, then everyone would be saved, and no one would be ‘cast into the lake of fire (Revelation 20:15).’ It might refer to God’s revealed will then, but I think there is a better explanation.

‘All’ in this verse refers to ‘all kinds of people.’ The Bible uses language in the normal way. When we speak normally we often use the word ‘all’ in different ways. Sometimes we mean “each and every one.” Sometimes we mean “all kinds.” If I say, “I have been to all the states.” I probably mean, “Each and every one... I have been to each and every state, all 50.” But, if I say, “I love all ice cream.” I probably mean, “I love all kinds...I love chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, etc.” The meaning of the word “all” can only be determined by the context in which we use it.

We know that this verse is referring not to ‘each and every person’ but to ‘all kinds of people’ because of the context. 1 Timothy 2:1 urges that prayers be made for ‘all people, for kings and all in high positions.’ In other words, Paul is saying, “When you pray, don’t leave any kind of person out – don’t leave out the people in authority, even though they may be hostile to Christianity. Who knows? God might save this kind of person too! He saves all kinds of people!”

The Sea, Chapter 16

For Madison, and back by popular demand.
The Sea, part 2
5/1/2011

Cross long travels and lonely seas
I have known two friends: two only –
but then, in years hence, with distance
and time to weigh circumstance, perchance
they never were friendly; leastwise, to me.

Of a sudden, like a dove ascending,
she appeared in the sea some ten moons
ago – a petite mermaid, silver haired, with flaxen
braids intertwined, and features frail and fine.
I made my mind to make her mine
before she said a word.
She sang to me, and her voice was all I heard:
she sang a song distress'd, voice still serene,
wherein she pleaded for refuge from a monster
below that had, intolerably, tormented her
since birth. This creature, an arcane Kraken,
was bent on her destruction, and seduction
was his weapon: seduction, his ambition.
At once, her reduxion was my mission.

I vowed at once right then, and after often,
by dawn of day, this beast would be beaten
into a state of certain sure submission;
and he, or I, or both would die in depths below.
And so it was, before the rise of sun again,
I had struck this monster's death blow
and left his heart, by sword mine, in 4 divisions;
I was violent as to force, but not as to precision.

All beauty, all frailty, all innocence,
she seemed to hold within her frame.
Demur was she, at first: by trial undone.
I studied her with kindness steady, like a brother,
and found she had not one, but a multitude of names.
And she told me each, one by one;
each day I learned another.
Each appellation was revelation
of her true self; in time I discovered
all her names save one; the first one
given at birth by her first mother.
From shame, of graces defamed,
or fear, or love, or some reason other
she would not say that name,
and though I counted it for blame,
this secret she kept covered.

I pleaded and I begged her
in addresses soulful, searching,
but she rebuffed me still the same.
To this day, I do not know, I do not know her name.

We spoke and dreamed of marriage,
but e’n as we spoke we knew,
and betrayed it by our carriage –
this was just a dream –
a dream that could not be
— a mermaid was she,
not fit, I felt, with a man like me
to marry; for my heart was on shore,
and hers was in the sea.
And we parted sad and sudden just before
– or was it after? – a storm of misery
fell full in fury upon our quiet sea.
I left her quietly as she cursed the waves that bore
me further and farther from her pleas.

‘Cross long travels and seldom relieves,
I have known and met many creatures
and peoples – some would not be believed.
Once in Hades – once only – with Medussa I dined
in company. I found her coarse, but not ungracious
wholly – and as a host – genteel to a degree.
Rough hewn by solitude, and rapacious
of amity, she was – if anything – too friendly.
Our comp'ny sat round like statues as we feasted,
and refused to join the reverie.
I cast them each curious passing
glances, but they would only gaze at her;
they never once dared look at me.
Granite faced, they stared – no matter;
I dismissed them as men with lesser manners;
I gloried in their scorn,
and talked merry with Medussa all night, unto the morn.

We talked of many things, but mostly
upon our favorite poets mused.
She was a devotee of Homer,
and she – like a lover quotes a letter –
quoted freely from his work,
and discoursed with aplomb upon
his meaning and his verse.
I quibbled only with Homer’s consistory
of gods too much like men like me.
She quibbled only with Homer’s history:
and this dismissed as myth, and biased ruse.
For in some details she was mentioned,
and in these she felt abused.

She and I discoursed, with delight, all night;
our company added only silence, stony, unenthused.
At dawn, when I left, she begged with tears for me
to stay: a day, perchance, forever.
My reason, not my heart, denied her.
For, as she spoke – every word with sighing –
something in her voice spoke treason;
and something in her deeds spoke dying.
I could not bare to look into her eyes when
I ferried back across the Styx.
In mind relieved, with heart grieved beyond measure,
I journeyed back to the living,
and quit her, with a mix of pain and pleasure.

Herein I have included, in addition to my book,

another glimpse into the life I lived by sail and hook.

These were my friends, unfriendly, only two.

My travels taught me somewhat I already knew:

somewhat I cursed myself when self reminded:

friends when false are past enemies declined;
such are enemies, times two.

Friends when true are seldom, but a gift like falling dew

upon the face of a famished man upon a salty sea;

this was a gift denied to me:
albeit, by wisdom I confess, and that sure heavenly.

With a mermaid I repined; with Medusa did I dine;

These friends were not friends mine –

but this man, this man was me.

Plurality v. Pluralism

Plurality v. Pluralism

In a hole in the ground there lived 5 hobbits. Each hobbit had different opinions regarding the answer to the question: "What does 2 + 2 add up to?" Only one of the 5 vouchsafed the number 4. The rest offered varying opinions ranging from from 0 -100. The most stubborn of all the hobbits swore an oath on his mother's grave that 2 + 2 was certainly equal to 44. The humble hobbit who offered the correct answer, "4," repeated his answer against a din of contention. This is plurality. Finally, the stubborn hobbit said, "It doesn't matter. 2 +2 is equal to whatever you think it is." That is pluralism.

***

‎"WHEN the old Liberals removed the gags from all the heresies, their idea was that religious and philosophical discoveries might thus be made. Their view was that cosmic truth was so important that every one ought to bear independent testimony. The modern idea is that cosmic truth is so unimportant that it cannot matter what any one says. The former freed inquiry as men loose a noble hound; the latter frees inquiry as men fling back into the sea a fish unfit for eating. Never has there been so little discussion about the nature of men as now, when, for the first time, any one can discuss it. The old restriction meant that only the orthodox were allowed to discuss religion. Modern liberty means that nobody is allowed to discuss it. Good taste, the last and vilest of human superstitions, has succeeded in silencing us where all the rest have failed."

~G.K. Chesterton ("Heretics")

"IT IS foolish, generally speaking, for a philosopher to set fire to another philosopher in Smithfield Market because they do not agree in their theory of the universe. That was done very frequently in the last decadence of the Middle Ages, and it failed altogether in its object. But there is one thing that is infinitely more absurd and unpractical than burning a man for his philosophy. This is the habit of saying that his philosophy does not matter, and this is done universally in the twentieth century, in the decadence of the great revolutionary period."

~G.K. Chesterton ("Heretics")