Skepticism

I am the most thorough-going skeptic since Rene Descartes, at least I'm one of them. Descartes said that he could deny everything except that he was thinking. I sometimes wonder if I'm thinking or merely raving mad. Perhaps my greatest struggle as a Christian is the fact that I don't want to take anything on faith. I was the kid who at four calculated that Santa Clause couldn't exist because even with all of the times zones he couldn't make it around the world. Ditto the Easter Bunny (and what about non-Christian kids? What do they get, Passover eggs?)

If I do actually believe something happened, however, I take things to extremes. I love conspiracy theories because they tell me that my skepticism should be suspended. That is the reason I love mythology and the Lord of the Rings and just about any fictional works. It forces me to suspend my skepticism.

Consider the Bible, for instance, which demands to be take at face value. It claims to be no less than the inspired word of the only God. Let us unpack this exceptional claim. First, inspiration is a rather hard concept to claim. How can an invisible, non-material being "inspire" (such a deliciously vague term, is it not?) a material book? Just what is inspiration? And if you can't define it, how can it exist?

But putting that aside, there's this whole business of Word. Words are special to God, somehow, and He puts a lot of stock in what He says. Frankly, I don't usually like people who do that, because it means my ego is interrupted and I have this nagging feeling I should listen. And God really believes that His Word, which is somehow connected to Himself, indwells that Book. And that it should be taken seriously.

And then there's the concept of God. Someone more important than me is really a rather odd premise. I should be able to perceive a being so all-encompassing, so all-powerful, but I don't directly perceive Him. If I was illiterate, I could infer His existence. I've heard that less analytical people, more sensitive people, can somehow sense His presence calling them. I can't. God once had to beat belief in Himself into me - I had a dream. I'm just not sensitive enough to sense His presence.

Then, while reading C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia, I realized something quite profound. I had come to the scene where Puddleglum was trapped by the Green Queen in the Underground City in The Silver Chair. She is trying to convince the two children and our dour Puddleglum that there was no Sun, no Moon, no Aslan, no Narnia, no Grass. Nothing but darkness and gloom. Puddleglum's courageous reply was that though there might not be any such thing and though they might all be in his head, he preferred to live with the fantasies than with reality if this reality was all that existed.

Here is my reply to skepticism. What comes of not believing in anything? You end up believing in chaos, in nothing, which in itself is something. Chaos is not the absence of stuff, but the illogical disarrangement of everything. And that which hates God and His creation is naturally chaotic and evil. Evil wishes to use skepticism. The greatest lie is to convince that which exists that it shouldn't, and that which is alive that it should be dead, and that which moves that it should be stationary, and that which thinks that it should be dumb. Because Nothing, as an abstract entity, is docile and easily manipulated, but Existence must cohere by the very rules that God - the most detested being in the universe - set up.

Yet another philosophical musing that went way too deep,

Night

I've started this blog post 3 times in as many days. Only problem is that I got as far as "I love nighttime" each time and quit. Maybe it is because I was afraid revealing my true feelings for post-dusk hours would scare my loyal readers. Or perhaps I was just simply talking to important people.

Anyway, I really, really like night because it makes everything appear strange. I've experienced nightfall in almost every situation imaginable except the top of a large mountain and at the bottom of the ocean. Each time it still amazes me. The light slowly fades, the darkness flows in like a cool stream and then all of a sudden you realize it is inky black (or, in some, ahem...populated places, dusky red)and night has come. Night is the introvert's comfort, because it forces everyone else away for a little while so he can think and ponder and meditate and process.

And everything turns gray. My favorite color is officially green, but gray makes everything very, very, very interesting. Shapes melt away, distinctions blur, the world is new and exciting if only because it is different. Gray is the color of obscurity, of anonymity, of isolation, but also of silver light and moonlight and lake water on a still, quiet dawn.

I've often wondered if gray isn't the color of humanity. The universe is shaded in black and white, good and evil, God and Satan. But humanity is caught in between the two great rival powers, pulled in both directions. Even Christians sin, despite Christ, and non-Christians do right things, despite their lack of Christ. We are gray, a mix of white and black. The white and the black can't mix, won't ever mix, so we are eternally caught in the scissor pinch.

And so, which color are you? White-gray or gray-black?

Friday Medications

I don't know why I titled this post that way. Frankly, I was going to write about Isaiah 39-40, but somehow "medications" sounded cooler than "meditations." But just read "meditations" in there and you'll be fine.

Isaiah 39 records the stupidest moment in the life of King Hezekiah. He has just witnessed an incredible victory by God over the Assyrians, a victory that saved his capital and his people from utter destruction. Judah has escaped the fate of Israel and the Assyrians suffered 180,000 military casualties, a number that wouldn't be topped until the 20th century or so.

And then the Babylonians show up with congratulatory gifts. Even at this time, Babylon was mulling overthrowing Assyrian rule and Baladan (later deliverer of Babylon)wanted to enlist the help of these plucky, if outnumbered, Israelites. It must be remembered that Israel stood between Egypt (the Iowa of the Middle East) and Mesopotamia (the megalopolis of the Ancient Middle East), making it a vital strategic area. Jerusalem, capital and largest city of this area, was thus a prime strategic point for both Assyria and Babylon.

Hezekiah was apparently still shaken by the whole invasion thing and feeling perhaps a little cocky. He decided, subconsciously perhaps, perhaps not, that Babylon was a strong friend for little Israel. He felt he could relax, because here were allies he could trust against the Assyrians.

Here was his great mistake. God had spent the first 30 or so chapters of Isaiah warning Judah against an alliance with Egypt or Tyre or Sidon or anyone else. And now Hezekiah has instead made an alliance with Babylon! The lesson has not been learned, because now Hezekiah is trusting in another foreign power instead of God.

God punishes Hezekiah, of course, with a promise of the Babylonian Captivity, and Hezekiah flippantly replies, "at least it isn't happening in my lifetime." In other words, at least I won't be skewered by posterity for messing things up.

Then, immediately after his flippant defiance, God returns with "comfort ye, my people." God knew that the news of Babylon's eventual victory would frighten Judah, so He moves immediately to comfort. This comfort is messianic without being directly applicable to Assyria. God does NOT say, "I will crush your enemies, rub their faces in the dirt and then serve you a chocolate sundae with whipped cream." He says, "I am sending the Messiah and when evil seems to reach its climax, I will crush it, but for my glory and not yours."

God never operates for our own personal glory. He never vindicates us or lets our enemies get blasted because they are so mean to us. He does not dote on us and we are NOT His only concern in the world. All of that being said, He still takes care of us in a wonderful, incredible way. His ways are not for our ego, to be sure, but He still tears down evil, upholds the oppressed and defends the helpless. Through Jesus, He is reconciling the World to Himself.

Just a thought,

Signs

Road signs annoy me. They really, honestly do because they distract me from what I really want to do. They are bossy. They make me pay attention to the side of the road. And what's more, jerks like to write gang symbols on them, which makes them absolutely appealing works of art! And yet, I'm thankful for them, as was proved yesterday when chevron signs warned my sister to stay on the right side of the road as a car was coming the other direction. If there were no signs, she would have crashed. We all would have had a nasty time, even though our massive van would have triumphed.

Now that you have all heard my little soapbox about road signs, I'm trying to think of a great analogy with some deeper, spiritual meaning. The first one that springs to mind is about the "Signs of the Times" for the End Times. I'm rather divided on the whole End Times thing, mostly because I firmly believe in taking prophecy as literally as possible and yet I'm not willing to believe that every tragedy is pointing to the End Times.

All of this being said, I've come to the conclusion that we are living in the beginning of the End. Perhaps the End is still two hundred years from now, but it is coming nonetheless. I look at the news, and it more dismal than usual. Natural disasters keep on getting more prominent, Israel is increasingly surrounded by angry Arabs (wait, that isn't a change. It's the angry Europeans that bear watching.) and the US is led by the most inept administration since at least Warren G. Harding.

Oh, by the way, have I just made my political views known? So sorry if you voted for our current government. I respect them as the leaders of the US, I pray for them, I fervently disagree with them. And I have no trust. Just look at the BP fiasco. Not that I think Republicans could do better. It seems you know a US president's term limit is coming when he starts bumbling in the Gulf of Mexico.

Allow me to get more personal. I'm sitting on my front porch, watching my two-year-old brother sleep. It's sorta funny how I can walk into the post office and everyone knows me, I walk home from the post office and three people greet me, and then I get home and letting the kid sleep in the car unattended isn't safe. What type of place is this, anyway?

I started another story idea today. I hate it. That means it is probably pretty good, for me, although I still try my hand at fantasy long after I should have given it up and gone into romance fiction or something. Hey, what if I brought fantasy elements together with romance...WAIT, that's already been done and the world has yet to pay atonement in full for it. Maybe the BP accident is our propitiation for Twilight.

Have I mentioned my poetry? I wrote three or four poems on the EMW Mayterm and haven't been inspired since. Since the last time I had voluntarily written poetry before that was in 7th grade, I figure I have a few years to wait for my next inspiration. I should post it here but I'm lazy. I also have a financial aid form to fill out and a paper to write. I'm so motivated right now.

On the good side, my life isn't consumed with work like last summer. I'm hoping to keep work and life in balance - I do one for thirty hours a week, and then I come HOME and PARTY. Partying in my household is pretty much eating long, slow dinners, laughing at stupid jokes and playing chess or Blokus.

Welp, don't have to go but I have nothing else to fire off right now. Have a great day!

Friday the Not Thirteenth

Yesterday was one of those laid-back days where I only had to go one place besides home and that was to see a very dear friend of mine who needed help planting tomatoes. Or, to be more precise, taking a five pound sledgehammer to large metal poles that help tomatoes grow by keeping them off the ground so they don't rot. But the phrase "planting tomatoes" is so much more succinct and gives a general enough idea of what I was doing. All I know is that that is the first time I've planted anything from a ladder...with a hammer. It's grand fun. Especially when this dear old saint tells you stories about his long, amazing life. He knows about half the world and can tell you a story about the other half.

And now I'm sitting at my kitchen table (disregard that time clock, I can't figure out how to change it) and I want to give a warm welcome to vnKw...whoever you are! Actually, to be blunt, I don't KNOW who you are and since I can't message you without joining some Google friend connect, I'm just gonna say "please identify yourself." Otherwise, I'm going to block you.

I'm going to dress up today as a penguin for about four hours. Part of my ice cream job, actually, and it's new to me. But I like kids and I love being a ham, so I'm excited enough. Still, I hope it isn't too hot.

Gotta go, I'm hungy,
God bless,

Another Day

Another day, another baseball game. Unfortunately, the Pigs lost the playoffs and I have a very downcast little brother.

I've spent most of the last two days thinking about my childhood. I view my life as being on the opposite side of seven crazy years, starting with my mom's first miscarriage and A-'s asthma and ending with my father's cancer. Those years were tough years for me and my family. There were nights we cried ourselves to sleep and there were nights we never slept. We were on numerous diets for one or the other of the siblings, we learned how to use oxygen tanks and how to deal with sugar crashes. More than anything, we learned perseverance, patience, courage, compassion and gentleness, despite the grouchiness of the people involved or the desirability of the situation.

And now I'm on the other side, wondering where my life is headed. A part of me, a very rash part, is saying that I can take more punishment, bring it on! And another part of me says that what God gives, God gives, but don't ask for more than He allots! It is rather like Jotham and striking the ground with the arrow three times. Perhaps God really does give not only rest within the storm but also freedom from storms. At least in this period of my life.

Work

Worked for the first time today. It was nice to be back, since I need the money AND know the routine. Sort of. They've added a lot of stuff but I'm almost back in the groove. Standing invitation to anyone who happens to be on Route 309 in Coopersburg, PA - stop by for coffee or ice cream on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday or Saturday. I'd love to see ya.

It's raining, which means S-'s game is cancelled. I get to go to church tonight for whatever they are calling the Wednesday night service, then meet my mentor tomorrow for a quick catch-up, then plan VBS this time tomorrow.

I'm rereading the Lord of the Rings, which has been very instructive. You see, last time I read them I was a young pipsqueak of fifteen who didn't know much about the world, or even his own shoelaces. Now I'm nice and mature (ok, I'm 19) and I've traveled to Europe. I'm struck by the Europeanness of the books, or my interpretation. All of the scenes are being imposed on the EMW trip scenery, making a wondrous portrait.

I've been reading the book of Isaiah, which is fearfully complicated. I'm afraid the whole Bible is. When I was young, I thought that at some point I'd know all there was to know in the Bible because, after all, it's only a finite number of words and therefore a finite amount of knowledge. I was very wrong. Every time I reread something, I gain a whole new perspective. For now, I'm struck by God's justice as He raises up nations to punish Israel and then punishes those nations for punishing Israel. I'm afraid these dastardly deeds make both predestination and free will seem a bit foolish. God isn't bound by our human constructed concepts (helpful as they may or may not be). He didn't predestine Babylon or Assyria to punish Israel, or else why were they held accountable? And yet He does actively raise those nations up to punish Israel, thus seeming to obliterate free will. Where is the answer? God's sovereignty and man's will are not mutually exclusive.

To veer onto lighter subjects, I had Jon- burst into tears today because he thought I was returning to "cowwege." I'm afraid August is going to be hard.

Later:
Tonight we had a fellowship time at church that focused on diversity of backgrounds but oneness in Christ. When it was asked who was from Asia, one woman stood up. When it was asked who was from Africa, one young man stood up. A few stood up from the Caribbean. No South Americans or Aussies were present. But when Europe was called out, 75 people stood up. And when it was announced that "those with ancestors from Germany should raise their hand," 74 people raised their hand. Gotta love a PA Dutch church.

Baseball

I returned from college/Europe to find my family has gone baseball-crazy. I should have seen it coming, because S- is very athletic and was in Little League last year. But this year he was in the playoffs and for a week my family has talked non-stop about rankings, playoffs, championships, home runs, tie games, clean-up batters and short-arm throws. I'm really amazed how much they knew. I was never and never will be athletic - I acquired depth perception at the so-young age of 17 - and until a year ago none of this would have mattered. We all probably would have scoffed at the notion of a Janney baseball fan club. Just one of the changes that happened under my nose while at college.

I went to my church for the first time in two months. I realized I haven't been there for more than 3 weeks in over nine months. Until last year, that would have been unthinkable and I'm glad I've found another church to replace it! It was nice, however, to be amongst people you've known for 17 years (give or take). I was remembering my first VBS, so many years ago, and my very vivid memories of the play kitchen I never got to play with because I was so shy and timid. (Yes, I've changed).

I also went on a long walk. Or, to be precise, it was short (1 mile) but I was running. With a stroller. With two siblings. One of whom had a very full bladder. Haven't done anything like that in a year. I was stopped by three people who knew me or my family, which goes to show I live in a small town. I love my town because Coopersburg is the best of all worlds (except Croatia). Within five minutes I can get anything I want - from fields to shopping malls (ok, I don't ever want those, but details are...details) to doctor's offices (a staple in my family). It's still small enough (or I'm well connected enough) that my neighbor is the mayor (he's also my pastor's son and my banker), the postman is a personal friend/acquaintance and I'm known as a member of "that nice family that had the sick father." Way to be known for our strengths...

Gotta go fix up asparagus and ham,

Routines

Life is full of routines. We have our daily habits, such as when we wake in the morning, what we eat, how long we brush our teeth, where we go in a day, when we buy groceries, and twenty thousand other trivial details of ordinary life. But go away from somewhere for a year, and suddenly leaping back into the routine takes conscious effort. I went away to college and now I am back. It seems simple - there and back again. It isn't. It's not terrible so far. I haven't corrupted family life or broken rules or offended my parents or anything. I just have to relearn what I used to know by heart, about how to do things and how not to do them.

But that being said, some relationships are fun to take up again, relationships that were once so routine they were subconscious. I went out today to the B- family, who have been friends of the family for over a decade. S- and their youngest boy are very close friends. It was nice to be somewhere that reminded me of Houghton, with rolling fields (ok, it's an orchard. Technicalities!) and (theoretically) bright stars. (Dratted clouds...) And yet it was so comforting to have family and old friends nearby. I felt that the two worlds - Houghton and Home - somehow intermingled and mixed up to the point where I was finally a single being. Will it last? I don't know.

Back Home

Hello Folks,

I just returned from the Balkans, which is an eerie type of experience. I know most people will ask me how I enjoyed it, what my favorite places were, what I saw, what I did, how I changed, but the truth is I'm not sure of the answer to any of those questions.

For instance, I know I absolutely enjoyed the experience. I've got the travel bug, bad, and I loved wandering these old cities. Everything was new and exciting because every day I was in another place, seeing another sight, sampling another dish, smelling another new scent. I was stimulated to the point of near-intoxication. But that, in itself, makes things stressful. There was no routine or familiarity because everything was always new. I learned I could cope with that better than the homebody that left Coopersburg almost 9 months ago to go do that college thing, but it was still challenging.

My favorite place is also a complicated question. It's rather like asking what my favorite $100 bill is, because I loved almost everywhere. I know the few places I DID NOT like, such as parts of Belgrade (stinky,ghetto-like mud-bucket of a place) and Venice with tourists (which more than compensates for its charm). But as for my favorites, there would be an eight-way tie between Zagreb (the charming, historical capital of Croatia), Krk (the island and the main town, both of which were gorgeous), Boshko (on Krk Island with a dramatic view of the Adriatic as far as the eye could see), Dubrovnik (the fortifications outweighed the touristy parts), Sarajevo (which was the most Islamic place I have ever been, except certain parts of Allentown), Plitvice (gorgeous waterfalls) and Padua (which I saw on my own).

I saw everything from a car being rescued from the Mediterranean in Trogir to St. Anthony's tongue and vocal chords in Padua to the ringing leaves of the Baptistry in Trogir to the Ghazir-beg Han in Sarajevo. Some things saddened me, many things outraged me, most things fascinated me, all things excited me (even the pigeons, which are so much fun to kick *licks chops*).

And finally, how did I change? Truthfully, I won't know that until I'm back in the USA for, say, 3 months. I have a lot of processing to do, a lot of thinking and analyzing and feeling. I'm on overload right now. But I can say that I've learned to be confident, assertive and relational, all of which are pretty good for a guy still getting this whole grown-up thing. Other than that...I'm still thinking. I do know that, spiritually speaking, my life has taken off from a very dry last month or so at school. Perhaps it was all the statues and pretty paintings - I did discover that paintings help me worship and focus on God in a way that almost nothing besides music and...ahem...thinking allows me to do.

I'm starting my first day back in the USA, so I'm signing off,
A still confused, bumbling American,