someburningthoughts

POEM: Day Seven

2012-01-22T13:09:00.000-08:00

Evening cool settled on the warm world
Flowers' fragrance rising in the fog
Cicadas playing their first night's song.

The Artist sat back from his canvas, well-satisfied
Angels craned their necks for a better look and then
Covered their glowing eyes with wings and shouted praise
Tuning ten-million voices to the wheeling stars.

God blessed the seventh day with rest and holiness,
Silence and seeking, a day to lay on the chest of God and breathe.
Creation was all done and just begun.

If You Call the Sabbath a Delight

2012-01-22T13:04:00.000-08:00

When I was a young boy, Sunday was a bother. There were certain things I wasn't allowed to do, and the day as a whole seemed a little stuffy.

Now it is often my favorite day of the week. Sunday for me is the equivalent of sleeping in, watching cartoons and eating pancakes. Here are a few things that have turned Sunday (technically not the Sabbath anyway--Saturday was) into a joy.

1. Personally, I like to follow the old Jewish method and start my Sabbath on Saturday evening, and end it on Sunday evening. By the end of Saturday I'm pretty exhausted, ready for a break from work. By the evening of Sunday, I'm refreshed, starting to think about the week ahead, ready to accomplish a few things before Monday morning.

2. A good tradition, unlike a bad one, can be exciting. Jewish people often remember very fondly the process of the Mother lighting the Sabbath candles as the family came together to start the Shabbat. For me, on Saturday evening sometimes I like to say a prayer of thanks for the week past, and eat some Sabbath ice cream. The ice cream is very important. On Sunday evening, before I begin working again, I will sometimes listen or sing a hymn or two, then pray for the week to come, committing it to God.

3. I TRY not to have any hard and fast rules about what can and can't be done on a Sabbath. After all, the day was made for us, we were not made for the day. Activities that are fun, rejuvenating are great. I try to avoid duties that I do the rest of the week. Anything that feels like "you must do this" and there is an inward groan--you are free from that today! Answering the long backpile of emails, cleaning the house, studying for that test, baking all those dishes for supper, finding receipts to do your taxes--GOD has given you a "get out of jail free" card from them for this one day a week. And resist your flesh that whips at you and says "if you had been more responsible earlier in the week, you could take a day off, but now you have to work to catch up." No. God's "get out of jail free" card trumps that. But notice the distinction. It's not saying you CAN'T clean the house and do your taxes. It's saying YOU ARE FREE NOT TO. If you are doing them out of a sense of misery and duty--God at least is not going to be clicking his tongue at you for not working on them today.

4. I like kicking back on a sofa, napping, reading some encouraging books on Sunday afternoon. Watching football games all afternoon might be relaxing for a while, but spending some time with God, although a discipline, is far more refreshing. Do you feel the balance? Kicking back, letting your hair down, having fun playing Sorry with your family or reading a book in solitude--and resting you heart with a secret smile on God.

POEM: Why Do the Angels Keep Singing?

2012-01-07T13:22:00.000-08:00

Nha Trang Beach, Vietnam, January 2004

God, I hear the Hallelujah chorus

and the angels crying glory.

But with my eyes I only see a crippled boy,

peddling a tricycle with his hands to sell his peanuts

to tourists.

Why do the angels keep singing

as though they can't see the sadness

in this world?

But now I remember that You came here

to our broken earth, and touched

the cripples, and wept at death, and died and rose.

Angels, keep singing for my Jesus.

POEM: Love at Christmas

2011-12-30T09:07:00.000-08:00

I guess we must love our students.
We came around the world to meet them.
At this season we miss the friends and family left behind
We are tired of people staring at us everywhere.
Our contract says a year or two, but we
Try not to think about the length of time
Try just to think about each day, each student.

I guess God loves us.
He came down to the world to meet us.
At this season He probably missed His home in heaven
And was tired of people staring at him everywhere.
His contract said 33 years, and then execution.
He didn't worry about the future, just took each day
As it came, sweating and crying, loving each person
That He had made.

-Written at Christmas 2007, in China

POEM: On the Eve of Christmas

2011-12-29T19:06:00.000-08:00

Here on the Eve of Christmas,
Here we kneel and look up at the stars.
They look back at us, the same eyes
That gazed down on Bethlehem
A few nights ago when You
Were born.
Great God,
Star-maker, sea-maker
Wind-maker, us-maker,
Unconstrained by the galaxies
You squeezed through her birth canal
And cried your first breaths in our sooty world.
And here, kneeling on the Eve of Christmas,
We thank you for coming to us in our distress.

-Written in 2006, in China

The Legend of the Prisoners' Violin

2011-12-15T13:30:00.000-08:00

The cells were cold. That's why the prisoners were curled in balls on the bare wooden cots. Even the ones who weren't afraid curled up. The guards were miserable as well, even with layers of thick woolen clothing. If a prisoner began groaning through his teeth, though, a guard would beat on the bars of the cell and shout, "Shut up!" If the groaning continued, guards would enter and beat the prisoner senseless and once again there would be quiet.

For several weeks now the prison had a deathly stillness and quiet to it. Only the occasional echoing footsteps of the guards relieved the utter silence, and that sound was not one to comfort those who lay, waiting for they knew not what. One morning, in March, with the chill still deep in the aching backs and bones of the trembling prisoners, a sound began. It was a distant tuning of violin strings.

In any other place in the busy world, it might have been ignored, but here the sound was cherished as though it were gold, or as though it were the only plate of food left in the whole world. Their ears strained eagerly at the sound, and gaunt eyes grew wide some moments later when the violin strings sang into life. A bow stroked them, their tight wires suddenly humming and wailing. Guards' footsteps began marching restlessly up and down the corridors, searching for the source of the music. The string music blossomed into life then, beautiful delicate cantatas, long glorious lines from old masters, sometimes sliding into cheeky folk dances or long melancholy tunes. All day long the violin music filled the echoing cells as tears poured down from the eyes of the huddled prisoners.

Guards searched every floor from basement to attic, and roamed outside the dank prison, searching for the violin player, but were frustrated. At eight p.m. that evening, after having eaten their bowls of tastless gruel, the prisoners lay still again as the violin quieted its tone. It played old wistful tunes and then sank into infinitely peaceful reveries, calming even the guards' nerves, frazzled as they were. The prisoners sank into sleep, one by one, and dreamed happy dreams of hope that night, some for the first time in years. In the morning they awoke to quiet, and many sat up in bed, staring, waiting, almost not breathing.

As the sun slowly turned their tiny cell windows into brighter boxes above them, a distant tuning of violin strings began again. Smiles leaped onto stretched faces bony with sorrow. Eyes brightened. Many stood to their feet and began pacing their cells with new-found energy. All day that day, and the next, and the next, the music continued, every day different, though sometimes replaying old tunes again like old friends come to visit. And in fact it was as though a best friend had come into their cell, and held their hands, talked with them, looked them in the eye, even danced with them.

The guards never found where the music emanated from. They tried once forcing the prisoners to wear ear-plugs, but it proved impossible to enforce. The guards themselves for the most part became somewhat kinder and more good-natured under the music's influence. The only sad note to the whole miraculous affair was that after some months certain prisoners began to take the music for granted, which means they stopped listening and appreciating. But most clung every day to the bright glory they heard, kissing its lips in their heart as though it were an angel from God. And perhaps it was.

POEM: Via Dolorosa

2011-12-06T23:20:00.000-08:00

The way of God leads not often to success
To laughs and high fives and roaring engines
To over-confidence and standing ovations.

No. Not yet.

The way of God is often found in tears
In crushing burdens and embarrassments
In disease and quiet desperations.

This is a mystery

Why God, who wishes us to be like Him
Leads us to immortality and life
By breaking us into sobs

Dismantling us into disappointments
Tearing down what we have built
Until only anguish and joy remain.

This is the secret way
Overlooked by kings and bishops
The trail of tears

But look right here in the dusty path--
Footprints and drag marks of a cross.

POEM: Portrait of a Dead Woman

2011-11-28T17:12:00.000-08:00

Toenails yellowed and still growing after death
Legs bare and hanging over the bed edge
Grey skin flapped limply from the bones
Her arms as thin as curtain rods folded cross her chest
As though she was still cold

Shoulder blades like plows
Facial skin sunken in her skull like cloth
Teeth yawing like a town fool
Blue eyes staring a little too widely up
But hair--ah, the hair still braided prettily.

POEM: Naughty Divinity

2011-11-26T11:20:00.000-08:00

Someone seems to have gone to so much trouble
To give us these sexual urges, to heavily wire
And drug us to be driven crazy with longing for another,
Pulled bodily from our self pre-occupation to be consumed by fire.

Oh the wicked goodness of God!
To leave a boy so disturbed and dizzy at the curves of a girl
To leave the girl this breathless at the nearness of the boy...
What naughty divinity to spin our brains in such a whirl!

How much trouble our heavenly Father spent
To rig us as the most complicated bombs in history
To set off a hundred timers and inject the love cocaine
To tighten muscles and flood the brain with consummate chemistry

So that even our bones ache with desire
And love wins and God lifts us higher.

POEM: Tasting God

2011-11-25T04:48:00.000-08:00

Sometimes we flee from God
Down the alleys of our busyness
Like fat children chasing cookies going stale
But oh when we turn back to face the Sun
His great good lips kiss us
With a taste like cantelope, ripe and sweet
And tears rise to rinse away our scabs
And rest settles on our hearts like morning dew
And such hunger, and such desire as we never felt before
The presence of God known to far too few.

Pondering the Lord's Prayer

2011-11-21T22:02:00.000-08:00

Jesus himself taught us how to pray. He gave us a model which we call "The Lord's Prayer." I prayed his prayer almost every evening for one year of my life, kneeling by my bed before sleeping. I tried to pray it and mean each line. That was a few years ago, but in that year his prayer changed some of my perspectives.

I learned that our prayers should not only be about our personal concerns and desires, but about God's concerns and desires. In the ancient Jewish language, the word prayer symbolized turning the head toward God. It means turning our hearts and minds to face him. Prayer means talking with God and learning to think about our life as God thinks about it.

The Lord's Prayer is a prime example. It lifts up our faces to God and to some extent makes us forget ourselves. But there's a big problem many people have when they pray the Lord's prayer. They pray the prayer quickly, like a magic formula, or like mindless propaganda that everyone simply parrots. Instead when we pray, we should think about each sentence and speak it to God with all our hearts.

This is the prayer Jesus gave us, as recorded in Matthew chapter 6 (there's another version of it in Luke 11). Here it's translated into English in the New Living Translation. It is quite short and powerful. It is almost an outline of topics we could delve into, and yet it is a personal prayer to our Father.

Our Father in heaven,
May your name be honored.
May your kingdom come soon,
May your will be done here on earth just as it is in heaven.
Give us our food for today,
And forgive us our sins, just as we have forgiven those who have sinned against us.
And don't let us yield to temptation, but deliver us from the evil one.

For yours is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever. Amen!

Here are a few simple thoughts to help us dig a little deeper into his model prayer.

Our Father in heaven -- We must remember that God is real, and that he exists in a place of light very different from the darkness of the world we see. And as we pray this we remember that He is our Father, who greatly cares for us and closely relates to us as His children.

May your name be honored -- Because He is our perfect parent, we desire that God should get all the respect He deserves. We feel upset when Christians smear his name with their actions, or when we do it ourselves. We want His name to be respected by all people, for who is as great and righteous and wise and strong and loving as God? We want His name to be honored first in our own heart and life.

May your kingdom come soon -- God is the heavenly power in a higher dimension. This tiny earth is in many ways a dark place full of selfish actions and harsh reality. So we ask God to bring His kingdom from His higher realms here to the earth. One day God will in fact come back to rule the earth directly. But even now we want all people to obey our true King. It begins in our own hearts of course. Jesus said, "The kingdom of God is within you." And, "The kingdom of heaven is like a little seed that grows into a great tree."

May your will be done here on earth just as it is in heaven -- In heaven, there is justice. There is great joy and compassion. In heaven there are no people hungry or miserable or angry with each other. In heaven when God gives a command, all the angels and others hurry to obey it. Now we ask God that His will would be done here on our rebellious earth as it is in heaven. We ask that the poor would be cared for, that orphans would be loved, that people would be humble and forgive each other and stop fighting, that workers would be responsible and bosses would be honest. And that we personally would do God's will.

Give us our food for today -- What do we really need? Our needs are actually very few. (Luke 10:42: "There are only a few things we need, really only one.") We are allowed to ask the Lord of heaven to provide us with the things we really need. Thankfully, He knows what we need even before we ask him, but when we ask him he is pleased to give it to us. We may wonder sometimes why He doesn't give us what we need always at the moment we expect it, but instead chooses to wait for His own strange times and ways. But later we clearly see His wise plan and great care for us.

And forgive us our sins, just as we have forgiven those who have sinned against us -- This is an urgent part of being a disciple of Jesus. It is very important because it is one of the hardest things we must do to be like Jesus. When he was dying on the cross he prayed, "Father, forgive them, for they don't know what they are doing." It is extremely difficult to forgive someone who steps on our toes, cheats us, or hurts us deeply. Why should we forgive these miscreants? (Jesus tells an important story about that in Matthew 18:21-35.) Here within this prayer itself Jesus wants us to remember that if we do not forgive those who wrong us, God will not forgive us. Although we don't always realize it, our wrongs against God are a great mountain. Our Father's strong desire is that we will forgive even our enemies. He wants all his true children to learn to act like their older brother, Jesus. It's my belief this act of forgiving others to be forgiven is something like a natural law, like the fact that you cannot look down and look up at the same time. So pray for grace to forgive!

And don't let us yield to temptation, but deliver us from the evil one -- Jesus elsewhere warned his disciples, "Pray lest you enter into temptation." Many translations also put this line of the prayer this way: "And lead us not into temptation." The older I get the more I think we really are like sheep. We go astray so easily. I had a chance to ponder that the same year I prayed the Lord's Prayer in the evening, as I often prayed Psalm 23 in the morning to comfort me and give me strength to face the day. We do need the Lord as our shepherd to guide our feet in the good way.

Although we often worry and pray about our physical health and safety, actually the much greater dangers are the temptations and evil that can enter our soul. "What does it profit a man to gain the whole world and lose his own soul?" Jesus asked. The devil is like a lion or wolf always searching for ways to trick us away from God. He may bring a good-looking or charming friend into our life who draws us away from Christ. He may distract us with worries and problems or teach us to value career and family more than God. But in the end God is greater than all of these. God Himself made our heart and he knows us more deeply than our family ever will, and He can care for us better than we can care for ourselves. We need to be like sheep and call to the shepherd to guide us safely into the way of life. And notice that Jesus' prayer has only one short line praying for our bodily health and prosperity (daily bread) and two long lines praying for the health of our souls.

For yours is the kingdom and the power and glory forever! -- Early Christians often added these last words, drawn from other parts of the Bible, at the end of Jesus' prayer. God's kingdom is not yet visible, but it is already powerful. By His power God has made all things, and He lives forever in glorious and unapproachable light. All who come near him fall on their faces and cry aloud, and even His enemies will kiss his feet. All honor and praise belongs to the only true God, our dear Father in heaven!

Amen -- Amen is an ancient Hebrew word that means "I agree, it is true."

- - - - - - - - - - -

In summary, Jesus teaches us in this prayer that we can use few words, but we should mean the words we say. He shows us that our eyes should be lifted up to God, putting him first, learning to think about our life from God's perspective, not our own. Jesus' prayer is quite worthwhile to pray if we take the time to ponder it and mean every word we say.

Comments Welcome

2011-11-02T19:35:00.000-07:00

Dear readers,

I found a setting on my blog that should allow you to comment. I think before the blog was automatically set to be picky about who could post comments. I just found the default setting and changed it!! God bless you. Comment away.

Daniel

My Pleasure

2011-11-01T08:41:00.000-07:00

I was watching a reality show on MTV a few weeks ago about an overweight girl trying to lose weight (maybe it was "I Used to Be Fat"). It was surprisingly sensitive and well-done. Anyway, I was amused at one point when the girl was going through a Chick-Fil-A drive through. She whispered to the camera: "I love going to Chick-Fil-A because every time you say 'thank you' they have to say 'My Pleasure,'" and she giggled. Then she turned to the guy at the window and kept saying thank you for things and he kept saying "My pleasure."

Last night my father-in-law cooked a big dinner for me and Amber, and afterwards I helped wash the dishes. He made a point to seek me out and thank me for that, which I felt I didn't need to be thanked for. I mumbled something like, "No problem." But thinking about it a minute later, I thought that 'My pleasure' would have been a better reply. It's hard to think of a more excellent response when someone thanks you than assuring them from your heart: "I was happy to...I loved doing it...It's my pleasure!"

What if when we thank God for our bodies, our food, our earth, our lives, and hope, he just grins and says, "It's my pleasure!"
"God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ. This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure." -Ephesians 1:5 (NLT)

Judgement Day for Bacteria

2011-10-28T18:32:00.000-07:00

Living in China for several years, I picked up some little friends. Munchkins in my tummy. All of us have tons of different bacteria living in our stomach, some good, some bad. But eat enough street food in China and you'll probably get an extra dose of the bad variety. That's what I've got in there right now. I can tell because these particular bacteria in my stomach get nutrients from my food and emit gas during the night. This bloats my stomach uncomfortably before I wake up, which generally gives me nightmares. It's been going on for at least a year. But now that I'm living in America again, I'm hopeful my stomach bacteria will eventually sort itself out. If not--antibiotics time. A rush of chemicals wiping out hordes of bacteria in a violent apocalypse.

You know, I got to thinking: what if I was one of those bacteria? Think how many generations of bacteria have come and gone--maybe thousands of generations. It's only been a year or two of my life, and I just haven't felt it's the right time yet to go to a doctor. If I was one of those bacteria, I'd probably be thinking: we've been living like this for generations and generations since we can remember! There's no judgment coming. In fact, there's probably not even a Daniel! Just this stomach universe, that's all there is.

They have another think coming. I'm real, and I'm unhappy with them if they don't balance back out. In my world little time has passed, and the right time is almost here for the eradication of these selfish and harmful bacteria. If only I had the ability of God to pluck out the good bacteria and save them until the antibiotics have passed through and left a clean new stomach.

Christian Thoughts and Poem about Homosexuality

2011-10-04T18:39:00.000-07:00

Several years ago a Christian actor friend of mine was struggling with homosexual desires which he didn't want to have. Now, I think homosexual desires can be perfectly natural, in the same way it is perfectly natural to want multiple sexual partners besides your wife. However, according to almost any ethical system, being natural in and of itself doesn't make an action moral. But at least, if you struggle with homosexual urges, whether occasionally or often, the Bible doesn't condemn you for these natural urges--but it does guide us in how we deal with them. I don't know that I have ever had these urges, though I'm not sure. But it's quite possible Jesus experienced these urges (and many others) during his life, but handled them in accordance with the word and will of his Father.

"For we do not have a high priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but One who has been tempted in all things as we are, yet without sin."

-Hebrews 4:15

All things presumably means all things. So first of all this a blow against homophobia, because homosexual urges are a naturally occuring phenomenon which Jesus may have even felt at times. But a major point of Christianity is that we cannot simply follow our animal natures, we must follow Jesus, die to ourselves, and live in the power of a new heavenly lifestyle.

I wrote this several years ago for an actor friend of mine who had been surfing homosexual porn and felt ashamed of it.

There Will Be a Day
　
There will be a day,
When the evil Iago who lays snares for you
Will be chained by fierce angels
And tossed none-too-gently in the lake of sulfur fire

There will be a day
When your Director will be revealed in all His masculinity
Yes, the chief Actor will appear for the curtain call
All the audience rising in silence and awe,
Then slowly applauding in a standing ovation for fourteen days.
At last raising his scarred hand to calm the sea of people
He will call his understudy to the front, His special actor, you

And then, yes, there will be a day
When each of your sins will be shouted from the rooftops
All your pride, hetero- and homo-sexual lusts, idolatry, selfishness, yes, all
Will be megaphoned over the vast audience

And there will be a day
When the children of God will drop their fears and pretenses
And in sobs of love, men and women, children and grandfathers
Will kneel around you, hands on you, arms around you
Your eternal family at last accepting you
In your fears and sins with you, not against you,
Each begging God on your behalf.

There will be a day
When the tightened skin and the twisted masks relax
And peace washes over your stretched features like waves washing a sand castle away
Leaving only smooth beach sand for a child's feet

And there will be a day
When you've reached the other side of the river
And all the hundred lies
That coiled over you like fat black pythons
Biting and hanging off you
They'll drop away in the burning river
And you'll come out on the other side
Like smoking gold
Transfigured in a robe of white
A god at last because of His love--
The masculine spirit he made you to be.

On that day
You will stand like an assured old lion
You will roar with a deep rumble that shakes the trees
And you will be enfolded at last in the arms of your Father.

The Legend of the Whale's Back

2011-09-27T16:35:00.000-07:00

I looked and I saw the People. They were on the back of a huge whale called Life. And the whale floated on the surface of a deep ocean, breathing. I asked a wise man who stood watching, "Sir, what will happen?" "It does not take a wise man to know," he replied. "After some time the whale takes a breath and dives deep down into the ocean depths." "And the people?" I ask. "They are dragged down and drown," he said.

I looked again at the People. Some were spreading blankets to picnic on the back of the whale. Others were gathering driftwood from the ocean and building houses on the back of the huge whale. Soon I saw that some became richer and more powerful, and they oppressed the poor. While some grew thin with hunger and fainted in the sun, others lay in their shelters, bored and fat. When they wanted to go from one part of the wide whale back to another, they demanded the poor to carry them on their backs. But still, they viewed themselves as decent and helpful people.

One day I walked on the whale's back myself. I met people arguing, preening, pursuing success. "Don't you know what will happen one day?" I asked. "What?" they replied. "The whale will dive down deep into the water and you will drown. Don't you know?" They looked angry. "It is quite rude of you to mention it," they replied. "There is nothing we can do about it so we might as well enjoy our lives." "Do you call your life enjoyable?" I asked. They looked at their over-busy, hurried lives of labor and boredom and said nothing. "If there were some hope or reason for our life, perhaps we would act differently," one thoughtful woman said. "Do you search for some hope or reason for your life?" I asked. She paused and considered.

"We have been told we are alive by chance and accident," she said. "Our wise men have told us we must each find our own meaning for our lives." "So you must pretend there is a meaning for your life and try to believe it?" I asked. She was silent but then nodded a little sadly. "And if your wise men are wrong?" I asked. "What if there is a purpose for your existence? It seems improbable that such a beautiful and complicated being as yourself is merely a series of accidents." She smiled at the compliment, then grew sad. "Don't tease us with false hope," she said a little bitterly. "It is worse than no hope at all."

She went back to counting strips of seaweed to buy a larger hat for her son.

Tin Man and Straw Man

2011-09-22T19:34:00.000-07:00

I am spending the week in a Christian commune in Boston. Not really a commune--just a house that several Christians all live in, sharing some measure of life together.

These people and those like them put their money where their mouth is. They live simple lives--they donate much of their money to those in need--they care deeply about God's kingdom and will being done here on earth as it is in heaven. You will feel welcomed by them--no ten-foot barbed wire fence to climb, no hidden landmines which make you walk on eggshells. In fact I think these people are very close to reliving the life of the early church.

I picked up a magazine here in their house called Sojourners. It's a thoughtful, passionate magazine that loves God and engages the world around us. It's also more of a liberal than a conservative rag. I notice they are more likely to criticize Republicans than Democrats, though they submit both to the litmus of God's word and way.
It may be very hard for a conservative such as myself to swallow that someone can be a good Christian and be easier on Democrats than Republicans. They have one article I read which analyzed the Libertarian party by Christian standards (doing an excellent and thought-provoking job from the Scripture), but in the end over-stepping and suggesting Libertarian political dogma is farthest from God's way.

It's very easy for me to step up and pull out my fully loaded conservative shotgun and start blasting away at some of these arguments. But I'm not going to. In fact, though I don't agree with everything they're saying (and strongly disagree with some points), I have been blessed and sharpened by reading this magazine. I suggest if you are a conservative evangelical Christian you go out and read at least one of these as graciously as you can. On the other hand, if you are a bleeding heart liberal Christian, I suggest you go out and grit your teeth and read a few issues of World magazine or Christianity Today and listen to some other points of view.

God, I think, has given His children different insights into Himself. The problem is when we grasp our insight (abortion is wrong, or God cares about the poor) and make it our standard to judge our brothers. Is it really so crazy to hope that the Tin Man and the Straw Man can learn to walk on the yellow brick road together, until God gives one of them a heart and one of them a brain?

Some Christians are enough to cure you of Christianity

2011-09-06T18:16:00.000-07:00

Some Christians are enough to cure anyone of Christianity.

Perhaps we can compare Christianity to a delicious piece of fried chicken. Imagine that you are just sinking your teeth deep into the savory meat and crispy breading, when suddenly you see something terrible. The person just across from you at the table is biting into a similarly savory drumstick, but their teeth are yellow and their breath is horrible. They slobber saliva all over the drumstick, licking it and taking wild bites like a crazed beast. And, let me point out, most terribly, they chew with their mouth wide open, allowing you to see every glob of food as it is mashed in their mouth. Of course afterwards they throw up all over the table.

Now, let me ask you: Do YOU want to go on eating that piece of savory chicken? Or do you perhaps set it down politely and go screaming out of the restaurant? It is a hard job indeed to go on focusing on that chicken leg and slowly munching it while all this craziness is going on around you. It takes a sort of determination that some would call crazy. But that is basically the situation in many churches. We have to go on munching the delicious Bible and Gospel while all around us people are puking their guts out on the pews and making horrible slobbering noises. It is a challenge, let me tell you.

And as if that weren't hard enough, we're called to clean up after them and be patient with them, and even, to love them. It's enough to make anyone who wasn't crazy go screaming from the room.

The one saving grace in all of this is Christ Himself. He enters the sanctuary quietly through the back door and bandages arms scratched bloody by fingernails, then cleans up puke with his shirt. He teases someone chewing with their mouth open and rebukes another firmly who is trying to steal someone else's drumstick. He grow furious and whips a few right out of the church with fierce lashes. Do you see him?

He is glimpsed most easily in a few of those Saints, those glorious ones who for a few minutes are getting it Right, who are riding the bicycle gracefully without wobbling. Look at those beautiful ones, eyes bright even in tears, hearts humble, hands reached out to those around them. They are the fingertips of Jesus. What type of Christian are you?

Dear friends, we are already God’s children, but he has not yet shown us what we will be like when Christ appears. But we do know that we will be like him, for we will see him as he really is. And all who have this eager expectation will keep themselves pure, just as he is pure.

Thoughts on Suicide

2011-08-31T01:34:00.000-07:00

For some people, the topic of suicide may be as irrelevant as birthing class for a bachelor. But others of us have wrestled this temptation, whether for ourselves or for someone we know.

A person can be tempted by suicide for many reasons. Maybe life's pressures feel too great--maybe he or she has suffered great loss and emotional or physical pain--maybe he or she has a melancholy and pessimistic personality and is easily discouraged by life.

I would be the last option, the personality type named "Eeyore." I came by my teenage ponderings of suicide honestly, pessimistic and moody as I was. But I was given a strange gift to compensate. I became close friends with a guy who had previously had his friend die by his own hand. There was speculation as to whether his friend's death was suicide or a terrible accident. Regardless, thinking of the suffering his death brought my dear friend, it became loud and clear to me that committing suicide would force my friend to go through the horror a second time, and would be unbearably cruel to him. In that light, I put suicide out of my mind altogether.

That was my first lesson on suicide--it's selfish. Those who are seriously considering suicide are usually wrapped up in themselves, self-absorbed in a world of their own miseries. Yes, some people have good reasons to be miserable. Some folks are the ones who get the short end of the stick of life and seem to meet tragedy after tragedy without time for a breath. But killing yourself is still selfish. It's murder in an attempt to ease your own sorrows. I can understand it. I can. But look around at the misery it would bring to anyone who knows you. That's why it's selfish.

The second thing I learned along the way is that suicide is not the "unforgivable" sin. Some people are reluctant to say this because they think everyone will run and jump in front of a bus if they realize that. But it's not unforgivable. Your eternal destiny depends on whether you really know Jesus and have a relationship with him, forgiven in his blood. All of us make mistakes along the way, and I've learned enough about God to know that he's a lot more understanding of our miseries than other people are, and he is compassionate for the hard lives we have.

The third lesson I learned is that suicide usually has a spiritual side. Demons are probably involved in any serious thoughts of suicide. The devil comes "only to steal and kill and destroy," says Jesus, "But I come so that you may have abundant life." Also the Bible tells us that the devil prowls around like a roaring lion seeking those he can devour. You may hear repeated thoughts in your mind that are incredibly grim, pounding like propaganda in your brain. You may feel condemned and hopeless. It may be impossible for you to imagine life being bright or joyful ever again. These are likely the whisperings of slimy spirits who lack power to do much besides discourage you.

Here's a strange word of hope: some of the darkest and worst thoughts you believe to be your own may not be truly yours but are whispered in your ear to horrify your soul. John Bunyan even mentioned this phenomenon in his Pilgrim's Progress. Pilgrim was walking through the Valley of the Shadow in despair, and a demon came up and whispered blasphemies in his ear which Pilgrim thought were his own. But they weren't.

Sometimes I get tired of people wanting to kill themselves. I was on suicide watch once for a friend for some months. That gets old, let me tell you. I was making sure he didn't have knives in his house, getting phone calls day and night, wading through long irrational passionate conversations and long prayer sessions, and so on. Finally I told him something like this:

"If you want to kick your own bucket, go ahead. God can forgive you. But you are removing yourself from the battlefield. There are a lot of good deeds prepared for you beforehand to walk in, and the devils would give a lot to take a soldier off the battlefield. Go ahead, take the shortcut to heaven. But that's not what your good Father longs for you to do. He wants you to walk the path of Jesus, a man of sorrows, but one who endured it for the great joy ahead. We need you on the battlefield. We need your prayers, your encouragements, your acts of mercy, your words of truth, and simply your presence, brother. Satan does want to sift you like wheat, as Jesus told Peter. But when you have repented, turn and strengthen your brothers."

Are you going to be self-absorbed or kingdom-absorbed?

In fact, you are called to die. To die to yourself and live for Christ. Paul said, "For me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. To be with the Lord is much better for me, but it's much better for you if I stay here on earth. So for your sakes I will remain."

I pray these thoughts from my life are helpful to you. The Holy Ones love you with Jesus' love, and one day many people will give thanks for your life. Take courage, die to yourself, and turn your life over to Christ to find a life more abundant than you could make for yourself.

"You are not those who draw back, but those who continue on to salvation."

POEM: Disaster in Eden

2011-08-24T18:50:00.000-07:00

Like the first sneeze to spread disease

The poisoned needle pricked through the skin

Not bleeding but leaving a tiny hole.

Like a rock tossed at a pane of glass that cracks

Their first sin shattered something in the universe.

Light slowed, the world grew dark once more in chaos

Spinning like a rotting apple through black space.

And we are bound by blood to those first two

In the smell of our sweat and breath, our eyes reflected in their wide eyes

Suddenly full of fear and misery.

______________________________________________

This is part of an epic cycle of poems I call Four Stories From Earth. This third poem in the second cycle is detailing the moment after biting the fruit, when sin is piercing into Adam and Eve like a hypodermic needle injecting poison. I think all of us who are sensitive experience these moments when we feel the inrush of guilt and poison after a sick, sinful choice. Thank Jesus he exchanges our brokenness for his health.

A Silly Girl and Her Cake

2011-08-04T14:33:00.001-07:00

Once there was a little girl. She liked chocolate cake. Whenever she saw a chocolate cake in the kitchen, she would begin to lick the air. She would lick and lick the air without stopping. Her mother didn't approve. "Stop licking the air," she would say. "You are not allowed to eat any cake until after dinner."

But this didn't stop the little girl. No, it didn't stop her at all. She would stand and lick the air, staring at the cake. Finally, her mother took to hiding the chocolate cakes in the oven.

One day, however, her mother needed to put 300 stamps on some invitation letters. She licked 27 stamps before her tongue became stiff and tired. She could never do all 300! Then she had an idea. She cooked a chocolate cake and put it out on the counter. The little girl smelled it and came into the kitchen.

She saw the cake and began licking the air, staring at the cake. The mother started holding stamps out. Bang, bang, bang, her daughter licked them and the mother stuck them on the envelopes. In just ten minutes she had stamped all the invitations. Then she gave her daughter a big piece of cake.

The end.

Is Struggling with Depression a Gift?

2011-07-30T10:36:00.000-07:00

I just read an article in the Wall Street Journal about depressed leaders "Depression in Command," July 30-31, 2011. Some recent research has suggested that leaders who struggle with depression may actually be better equipped to lead in times of crisis--because they already expect life to be hard, and they emphathize with others.

Normal sane people, says the article, are slightly over-optimistic about life, and feel they have more control than they actually do. A person who struggles with depression is under no such illusions--they're already adjusted to the low-pressure atmosphere of realism and hard times. Some melancholy folks may be better equipped to lead when the lights go out.

Additionally, people who have suffered with depression have been shown to have much higher levels of empathy than normal, sane folk. I've experienced that. When all is right with the world, I don't want to cloud my mind with the troubles of others. But in times of suffering or low spirits, I empathize with those in trouble on a deep level. The article pointed to Abraham Lincoln, Winston Churchill, Ghandi and Martin Luther King, Jr. as examples of people who had repeatedly struggled with depression, and who were therefore equipped to look hard times straight in the eye and spit back.

In me, these turned up some deep thoughts. Maybe, those of us who struggle with melancholy are not simply losers, broken, inferior. Maybe God is able to take our suffering and turn it to blessing, as he loves to do. Maybe in fact, if we bring it to him in trust, he has a purpose for it all.

Gray Day Reflections

2011-07-06T10:09:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, secretly, I think I might be a tree.

I look like a person, I know. It's just a suspicion I have. One of the main reasons I think I might be part tree is because when I don't get much sunlight, I begin to wilt. I don't think that's supposed to happen to people. There I am, sitting on a sofa, wilting. Then, you wheel me outside into some warm afternoon sun, and my back begins to straighten. My eyes brighten and my soul relaxes like some crying baby nodding off to sleep, sucking his thumb.

But sometimes, the sun isn't there. Sometimes I go outside, trying to aim my solar panels at the light, but all I get is gray skies and concrete buildings.

You can't make the sun come out. At least, I've never had much luck. I just have to wait until it chooses to show its face, whether it be five minutes or five days.

Sometimes I feel God is like the sun. I'm all wilted inside, not much more than a zombie, and suddenly there's a refreshing sermon or song, or person. Or I open the Bible and every word is just radiating out and I start to soak in His light. My back begins to straighten. My eyes brighten and my soul relaxes like some fussy baby falling asleep while his father burps him.

But sometimes I go into the Word of God, and it feels all gray. The words stick to the page like chewing gum to your shoe. I turn on a sermon and it seems cliche--I try listening to music but it seems too chipper. Even when a friend stops by to try to encourage me it's just mildly helpful, like a labrador retriever who only brings you one of your slippers.

Honestly, I haven't found a way to make the Sun come out when I want it to. So I appreciate the psalms where David complains about it: "How long will you hide your face from me?...Give light to my eyes or I will sleep in death." (Psalm 13)

I mean, it's nice to remember that the sun is still there, above the smog and rainclouds. If you could get in a jetplane or ride on the wings of an angel, you could go up to see how bright it still is up there far above our petty problems. But that and a dollar will get you a pack of gum, right?

Still, I want to be like David who finished his gray-day psalm with some firm faith. "But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the LORD for he has been good to me." He has been good to me. Lord, turn the sunshine of your face on us again and brighten our eyes. Until then we will trust in your unfailing love.

POEM: More Than Twelve Legions

2011-06-09T06:42:00.000-07:00

Trained for two thousand years, we stood

Sweat dripping from our arms, our fingers

Clenched whitely on our sword pommels

Eyes starting from our heads, legs tight.

More than sixty thousand of us waited in formation

Bodies burning white like lightning in the sun

Longing for the instant command to jump

To flash into battle in that distant dusty land

Where our best captain stood all alone

Surrounded by idiots, who spit and slapped at him

Who whipped and cursed him like dogs,

Who teased him with unspeakable tortures.

He had the walkie-talkie, planted invisibly

In his ear. He had not lost his voice.

Then why his silence? All we could hear

Was laughter and shouting, and women's sobs

And suddenly our captain screamed.

We tensed, swords half drawn, eyes on fire

But we only heard the chink of hammer on iron spike

And then the words: "Father, forgive them."

I will never forget that longest day

And the faces of my fellow soldiers in those hours

Anger and agony and confusion in the ranks

We would destroy the world but he would save it.

Joshua 7: Achan

2011-05-13T21:41:00.000-07:00

I'm reading Joshua 7 today. Here's how The Message translation opens:

"Then the People of Israel violated the holy curse. Achan son of Carmi...took some of the cursed things. GOD became angry with the People of Israel."

When the Jews stormed over the fallen walls of Jericho, God had told them everything in Jericho was set aside for destruction. All people, animals, and property were to be destroyed. Undestroyable items like gold and silver were to be given to God. It seems inevitable to us that one of the 40,000 soldiers wouldn't be able to resist. And so it happened that Achan took a beautiful robe, and some silver and gold and hid them under his tent.

As a result, God was angry with all of Israel, and He allowed their enemies to defeat them and kill 36 Jewish soldiers. Whoa there! Why was God angry at all of Israel? Today in North America, being the most highly individualized culture in the history of the world, it's really tough for us to see how that's fair. Achan should be punished for his own sins! And I think God agrees with that principle (that's what Ezekiel 18 is all about).

But living in China, which is a fairly collectivist culture (seeing things in terms of the group you belong to instead of the individual you are), I can begin to understand why it may have been necessary to deal with early Israel in this way. "A little yeast leavens the whole lump of dough," as Jesus said. A collective group feels much more like a body than a collection of individuals. They have "groupthink" in which everyone generally comes to the same opinion. They have almost a mob mentality, in which it is really hard to resist doing what everyone else is doing.

In China, where one person in a milk company substitutes cheap chemical additives for the actual cream in the milk, the whole company lost face when it came to light, even more so than it would have in America. People all over China stopped drinking milk entirely for a year after it was revealed. How unfair! How can we punish the entire diary and milk industry for one person's mistake? First, in a collectivist society, one person doesn't do that unless there's a widespread corruption making it possible to go against the group. Second, it's the way of nature to some extent. If your knee gives out, your whole body ain't going to win the race.

It may be nearly incomprehensible to us today to understand why the whole Jewish nation should suffer for one person's mistake, and why that one person along with all his family and possessions should be stoned and burned. But after living in a collectivist culture a while--it's starting to make sense. But let's take it a little more personally before we leave it.

Are there any areas in your life you are secretly compromising in? What secret sins do you indulge in but try to separate from the rest of your life? You know it's going to influence the rest of your life as well. Find those points of compromise and stone and burn them out. As long as you harbor these compromises willfully, can you expect to be whole and healthy?

Does God suffer more than us?

2011-05-09T22:22:00.000-07:00

Does God suffer more than us? I think it's an interesting and meaningful question. What do you think? I hope you'll send me an email or write a comment if you have some thoughts. These are my thoughts:

I know that some people picture God as an old grandfather, half deaf and half dead. Others picture him as some cosmic Buddha, with a placid smile always pasted on his face. But to both of these the Bible says boldly, "Ha ha!" Even early on in the Bible, when God seems more transcendent, we see him personally interacting with people: walking with Adam and Eve on late afternoons chatting, warning Cain he's heading the wrong way, having mercy on Cain, and finally feeling heartbroken and regretful about making people in the first place and wiping their disease off the face of the earth with a massive flood.

Then there are the prophets, speaking God's voice, which wails brokenly at times, and shouts furiously at others. He tells Hosea to marry a prostitute, so the people can understand the jealous anger and heartbreak that God is feeling at their faithlessness. He sighs with frustration, just like Jesus did before healing a blind and deaf man. Yeah. In case you missed it, Jesus is the clue that God cares very, very deeply. He wept over Jerusalem, he shouted and whipped hawkers out of the temple,He told jokes and held children on his lap. DO WE THINK WE FEEL MORE DEEPLY THAN THE GOD WHO MADE US?

Once, when God drew near to me, I was flattened by his passion. His hatred for my sin and his love for me were like a massive sun, and my emotions were little candle flames in its daylight.

And who, do you suppose cares more about the brokenness of the world we live in? God right now is present at every rape, at every husband and wife's shouting match, at the scene of children being molested and young men being tortured by others. He's forced day after day to live with our nearly complete self-absorbtion, all the secret thoughts we have and the smiling masks we paint over them, with our depressions, our hates, our despairs, and our chasing after the passing shadows of this world instead of listening constantly to Him. We don't even know the depth of our own brokenness, and He knows the whole world's.

And if you think He doesn't care about it with every fibre of his Fatherly being, you don't yet know him very well. DO WE THINK WE CARE MORE DEEPLY THAN THE GOD WHO MADE US?

So, God waits. He waits to set all things right at last, to heave a huge shuddering sigh of relief and sob in His soul with joy that at last all evil is extinguished and all good comforted and praised. His love compels Him to wait: to wait until more of His children have turned from the evil that would sweep them away also in the destruction and run into the safety of His light.

So be aware of what God is feeling today: He knows every single broken thing happening, he cares about them more strongly than we do, and he is eager to fix it, pinned back only by his loving patience, "not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to eternal life." And meanwhile we His dearly loved children question and doubt him. Does God suffer more than us?

POEM: A Train in the Tunnel

2011-02-21T05:44:00.000-08:00

The smell of paint and oil rises in my nose
As the train rocks and flies past green flashes in the sunlight
And then suddenly like a blow
A shadow and darkness of a tunnel's night
Rushes roaring in my ears.
Cold wind blows through the car
The loud darkness seems never ending.
But then I hear a voice in my ear:
"No matter how long or dark the tunnel
In Christ there will always be an exit into light."
Hope rises in my heart
But as the minutes rattle past
My feeble mind nearly forgets the dream of a bright world outside.
--There is a brightening--
And we fly into warm sun
Rush past rolling hills all green with life
My heart warming and rising like a kite.

How many more tunnels will I go through
Until I reach the brightness of You?
How many? It doesn't matter.

Travels to Yunnan

2011-02-04T23:35:00.000-08:00

Where's Yunnan? It's a province in south-western China, just above Thailand and Myanmar. Yunnan means "Cloud South" and it's a beautiful part of China. The part I usually live in is greasy with smog and filled with square concrete buildings with all the charm of cinder blocks, so it was nice to see a lovely side of this place I live.

First we went to a city called Li-jiang, part of which is old and historical. (See picture above.) It's full of winding cobblestone pathways that were made four to six hundred years ago.

After a few days we traveled a few hours to some mountains nearby, to a place called "Tiger Leaping Gorge." So called because there were some rocks on the river over which tigers used to jump to get from one side to the other with small lambs in their mouths. But no tigers live there nowadays.

We hiked for two and a half days down this ridge of ancient mountains facing another ridge across the river below. Pretty spectacular. Reminded us that God still has the gold star for impressive architecture. Just being there was refreshing to the soul in a way even the lovely old town of Lijiang could not be.

POEM: When an Adam Finds His Eve

2011-01-11T09:11:00.000-08:00

I found out today that my brother Steve and his wonderful fiancee Heather both read this blog somewhat regularly. That's an inspiration by itself, so I post this poem to them in honor of their recent engagement. I think I wrote it seven or eight years ago.

When An Adam Finds His Eve

When an Adam finds his Eve
He can barely believe
What he is seeing.

All at once the world seems less broken
While he's standing and lookin'
At what he's been given.

For a moment he smells Eden
And the old sun is bright again
When he sees her smile at him.

If he only knew, it's a prophecy
Of the sunny day to be
When Jesus comes for you and me.

RECOMMENDATION: Dietrich Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy

2010-11-22T20:06:00.000-08:00

Hey, I hope you'll think about reading the recent biography by Eric Metaxas called Dietrich Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy.

The biography reads more like a novel at times. Yeah, it's a thorough and scholarly work, but Metaxas (also the author of Amazing Grace about William Wilberforce) tells the story of Dietrich's life in a personal and passionate way. Dietrich has blazed a trail for those of us today who see dark cultural storm clouds looming and growing black overhead. Dietrich's life not only teaches but shows us that God is real, that we who are His children have no need for any fear, even should we be imprisoned or killed, and that instead we should shine like stars in the night, diligent to help the Church and do each day's simple task with a spirit of gratitude, though faced with terrorists above and below.

POEM: Dietrich Bonhoeffer: A Firework

2010-11-22T19:51:00.000-08:00

Resolutely you rose into the evening air
Through the deepening darkness
You shouted louder and louder

Don't hide a candle in days of hardness
A rocket must go up and always higher
Come! Rise with me to my Father's house!

For where I'm going you can come later
The truth will make a path always
The truth is Alive--He's the Word, the Shepherd.

Suddenly the screaming rocket lights:
Death is dancing with Dietrich Bonhoeffer--

A brightness shines over a thousand hills,

Sparks rain down for a century after

Yet there is also a sudden silence.

Oh, light my fuse too, fiery Word
That I may fly to heaven like that one did.

Watching a Baby Die

2010-10-14T06:11:00.000-07:00

Today I visited some orphans. One of them was lying in his crib. As I walked by him for the second time, he fussed slightly. I looked down at him. His eyes were slightly glazed, and the snot was dried around his small nose.

Part of me wanted to find some way to clean him up, but the rest of me felt icky about it. I'm being honest here. So I went to hold the hand of another kid and talk to him for a while, but I came back a few minutes later. Bing started fussing again, trying to twist his head and body into a more comfortable position. I checked his feet, one of which was sticking out from under his blanket into the cool fall air of the room. I put a blanket over his cold foot.

He had squirmed his head up against the wooden rails of the crib, and was looking up at me, seeming to listen to me. I rubbed his head for a few minutes, speaking a few soothing words to him. He looked bad. I heard of another baby that our friend JennLu watched die the other day. It was death-gasping for a few hours before it passed away in her arms.

So I leaned down and listened, but he seemed to be breathing calmly, with only a slight strain. But there was something about him: he looked in a bad way. Still somehow I felt he appreciated the head rub and words I gave him. I saw a bottle of thick milk nearby, so I grabbed it and put a few drops on his tongue. For a minute he just kept his mouth open with the thick milk drops on his tongue, then he closed his mouth and looked a little happy.

Thirty minutes later I was holding another kid, feeding him a bottle, when the resident nurse came and looked at him, and took him out to the clinic to see the doctor. She came in a few minutes later.

"He passed," she said. "He'd had some epileptic seizures this morning. The Chinese caregivers are pretty sad about it, still in shock."

Lord, we commit into your hands this person I met so briefly. I know he is in a much better place. Please help us make the most of these few years of breathing you give to us. We are coming soon into Your eternal presence also.

2 Samuel 12:22-23

I Met God One Time

2010-10-13T01:47:00.000-07:00

First I want to say I'm a rather lazy person, often self-absorbed, secretly lustful, or publicly complaining. I preface my account with that because my encounter with God had little to do with my personal virtues.

I was house-sitting that summer in college. During the days I would go out and work construction, and at nights return to houses of people in our church. One day I was off from work and reading a book, "Wisdom Hunter." It's a challenging book. At one point a girl I was rooting for was raped by someone she trusted. At the moment I finished the chapter, I remembered all the actual rapists and murderers running around on earth. Girls are being raped and tortured even right now as you're comfortably reading this. I grew furious and threw the book across the room, cussing. I stormed outside the house in my socks, slamming the door behind me.

The house was set back in the woods, and I walked onto the gravel driveway in my socks, tears running down my face, shouting at God. "How can you let this happen?" "How can you let these rapists and murderers just wander the earth and you not do a blessed thing!?" I raved and shouted at God perhaps like Job did once. I let him "have it." And I was so upset, so furious at it all I knew I wasn't going to stop asking unless He answered me. "I'm not going anywhere! I'm going to keep shouting and walking outside for two days if I have to until You answer me! I don't care about anything else now."

I did wander the shaded gravel driveway sobbing and yelling for about an hour. The condition of the world was no longer something I could put up with; I couldn't go on and damn it, wouldn't unless God answered me.

Sometimes we read God's coming to Job and think God was a little high and mighty. But as you hear about my experience, can you see the arrogance was on my side, and God humbled Himself terribly to even answer?

He came like a whirlwind. The trees seemed to blow and through me pierced bright stabs of Presence. My protest plans were interrupted and I fell to my knees on the gravel, barely noticing them, my head grasped between my knees. An awful silence and roaring bore down on me, as though the sun had left its place in the sky and was lowering its immensity over me.

And bright and hot as a looming sun I felt God's love for me, and His hatred for sin. They were equally distinct emotions, both his love and hatred as much larger than ours as two suns would be to two candles. I felt the unbearable intensity of his love for me, for me individually, an enormous world of fiery love that left my heart blinded. And I felt equally the fire of his hatred for sin, his burning wrath and consuming anger at all the injustice and wrong in our world.

Then God spoke to me. I don't know if his words were audible, but they were crystal clear as they came. I think I wrote them down after the experience, but without the paper in front of me I can't now recall them exactly. But he explained to me that if he destroyed from the earth all who grieved him by sinning, I would be in the batch. He gently flayed open my heart and pointed out some particular sins worming their way around in me. I was speechless. There was nothing I could say to this God blinding me with the weight of His presence, with the fierceness of his hatred of sin, and most of all with the burning of his love for me, personally.

When the trees seemed still again and the sky was an empty blue I stumbled back to the house. After meeting with God it is hard to do anything but stumble. My protest was over. My life would go on in this broken world, of which I was one of the broken but beloved parts.

I have never forgotten the immense sight of the greatness of His love for me, and the burning hatred he has for sin. It was like meeting the sun.

Perhaps a psychologist could explain away the experience in materialistic terms, as some have done for Saul of Tarsus' experience on the road to Damascus. All I know is that if I deny the blessed reality of the experience I will be held accountable.

And anyway, read God's Word and I think He will say the same things to you which He was saying to me that day.

POEM: The Moon is a Mystery to Me

2010-09-17T03:53:00.001-07:00

I walk along the beat of the street
To look at the rising moonlight
Two bicyclists fly whizzing by
Barely dodging headlights.

No matter how many ways I gaze
No matter how many nights
Still that moon is a mystery to me
And all the starry sights.

The Governor and the Mother

2010-09-07T23:59:00.000-07:00

As is the custom of many foreigners in China, I was stuck on the john, contemplating which oily or spicy dish it was that sent me there. I picked up a year-old issue of Time Magazine to pass the time. And I was astonished in that secular rag to find an article truly worth reading. A writer named Caitlin Flanagan raged like a present-day prophet against our modern selfishness in marriage and the ruin it brings our children.

The article was excellent, but it was the last paragraph comparing a governor Sanford and his wife that stuck with me and made me look at life with a clearer perspective.

"Who is left to ensure that these kids grow up into estimable people once the Mark Sanfords and other marital frauds and casual sadists have jumped ship? The good among us, the ones who are willing to sacrifice the thrill of a love letter for the betterment of their children. "His career is not a concern of mine," says Jenny Sanford. "He'll be worrying about that, and I'll be worrying about my family and the character of my children." ...

I sat there, thinking. Jenny and Mark Sanford met, married, and rode the stars to governorship. Can you imagine yourself as the governor of a state, or married to one? But this woman of character effortlessly makes governorhood look like small potatoes compared to faithfully raising your children. She's not caught up in all the hoopla of how marvelous it is to be rich and powerful. Being faithful to your spouse, self-sacrificing for your family, self-giving to those around you--those are the weighty roles, the overlooked chores that will headline in eternity. Governorship is a smaller matter than I had thought. Or at least daily life is a much bigger matter.

p.s. "Is There Hope for the American Marriage" by Caitlin Flanagan http://www.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,1908243,00.html

POEM: The Best of Forests are Built at Night

2010-08-11T22:56:00.000-07:00

The best of the forests are built at night
When spiders are spinning their web-like songs
And the lumberjack angels in delight
Kiss the fallen trees to heal their wrongs

When the wind is your friend and your enemy
And the moon peers at you with a wink or two
Like a tiger eye from the bars at the zoo
As the forest lights dance in the dew.

About Yesterday's Question

2010-07-17T22:06:00.000-07:00

My wife suggested that perhaps Christians could set up a copyright that would expire after five years or so. As it is, copyrights today expire after 95 years, or at times, after the death of the individual copyrighter plus 70 more years. I guess her plan could work like the medical drug system in America: a new drug is copyrighted for a few years, then the market is opened for generic drugs to copy.

A friend of mine named Easten suggested another idea: creativecommons.org. It's an organization that's worked out riders to tack onto copyrights. You can choose to modify your copyright for free in several ways: to allow others to share it, or modify it, for non-commercial or even for commercial reasons. Worth checking out.

How selfish is a traditional copyright for a Christian, in light of Acts 4:32?

Christian Copyrights?

2010-07-16T18:54:00.000-07:00

My wife has a pet peeve--Christian artists and writers clinging to their copyrights. For example, Henry Blackabee has a life-changing study called "Experiencing God." What if someone is overseas and wants to make copies for people interested in studying? But it's a little hard to get 40 copies of a book overseas. Or what about praise and worship music? Should Christian artists and publishers really barb-wire their products as they do today?

I hadn't thought much about this before. As an aspiring writer, I thought that writers need to make a living. Still, we would shudder at the thought of making everyone pay at the door to enter a church and hear a sermon. We've found other ways to provide for a pastor. And artists like Keith Green, Rich Mullins, and Derek Webb have found ways to get around the worldly money-mongering we do. Derek Webb apparently gave a recent album away on the internet with just an option for donations (which I think all went to a charity anyway). What do you think?

POEM: Clutching for Chocolate Grace

2010-07-16T18:16:00.000-07:00

My muddy hands clutch for the chocolate of your grace
My black fingernails peeling off the foil
Hungrily with tears this starving street-boy
Sits in the gutter at your feet and eats with darting eyes

But now you lean and grip my shoulder firmly
Here you wipe my grimy cheeks with your smooth skin
Here-I don't understand-you sit down beside me
As the passerbys snicker and grin

And suddenly the world spins slower
Suddenly my worst mistakes, my dirty thoughts
Wash off me bit by bit
As I lean against your beating chest and rest.

Everybody has the Same Great-Grandparents

2010-07-15T10:03:00.000-07:00

DNA turns up some interesting stuff. Recently it has informed us that every single person on the earth had a common ancestor, very recently.

"All humans alive today share a surprisingly recent common ancestor, perhaps even within the last 5,000 years, even for people born on different continents" (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mitochondrial_Eve). This from the evolutionists. They go on to say there was a geneological line leading to this common ancestor that we all have in common too, going back to our first parents, who they theorize lived 50,000-75,000 years ago.

In a nutshell, scientifically speaking, a very long time ago there were these first parents of humanity. They had children and earth's population increased rapidly. Then suddenly a disaster struck 5,000 years ago (scientists theorize a giant meteor or volcano) and only one family survived, the ancestors of all people alive today.

If you ask this wild-eyed Christian, it sounds suspiciously like the story of Noah and the Flood, the disaster the Bible claims happened 5,000 year ago. All right, I know I'm a little wild-eyed and frothy at the mouth. Still.

THE IMPLICATIONS OF THIS SCIENTIFIC DISCOVERY

Darwin and scientists after him generally guessed that humans evolved in different branches all over the earth. Thus, Darwin assumed that Caucasians had evolved on a branch before other races like Africans and Australian Aborigines. In fact, he guessed that one day Caucasians would exterminate the more primitive races as Caucasians continued to evolve.

"At some future period … the civilized races of man will almost certainly exterminate and replace throughout the world the savage races...The break will then be rendered wider, for it will intervene between man in a more civilized state, as we may hope … the Caucasian, and some ape as low as a baboon, instead of as at present between the negro or Australian and the gorilla."

--Charles Darwin, The Descent of Man, 2nd ed., A.L. Burt Co., New York, p. 178, 1874

This idea that some humans are genetically superior to others supported racism in the 20th century, including some of Hitler's rationalizations for German racial supremecy.

But this DNA discovery turns that idea on its ear. It means we are closely related (relatively speaking) to every other human on earth. Not to sound like a hippie, but we are all one family. There are no branches of various 'homo sapien' species.

I sometimes feel shy of strangers. But this discovery tells me (as the Bible has always taught) that all of us humans are close family. When I look at a Chinese person, squatting strangely on the street, spitting, his Asian face staring back at me, the realization has been sinking in that he is my brother, that she is my sister. None of us are any closer to monkeys than anyone else, as scientists tried to suggest for a while. We are closely related. We are family.

"From one he created all the nations throughout the whole earth....For in [God] we live and move and exist. As some of your own poets have said, "We are his offspring."

--Paul of Tarsus, (circa 40 C.E.), Acts 17:26

God, Sex, and Chemicals

2010-07-06T09:57:00.000-07:00

I learned something fascinating today. Apparently scientists are still in the midst of researching neurochemicals--chemicals connected with our brain. Although our amazing brains work generally like a super-computer, they aren't made of silicon and wires, they're made of living cells, which is way more astounding. But these living cells are susceptible to chemicals which alter the way the brain works, records, and responds to life. Those chemical interactions point to an amazing Design.

For example, today I was reading about four brain chemicals associated with sex. When someone becomes sexually aroused, DOPAMINE is released in the brain. This powerful chemical narrows and focuses the mind, tuning the attention to the object of desire. That narrowed focus blocks out other thoughts, including negative concerns or problems. So Dopamine not only makes you locked-in, it also makes you feel happy, even ecstatic. In a sexual experience between a husband and wife, this is the drug responsible for those puppy-dog eyes and the feeling that those two people are only people alive in the world.

As the sexual experience continues, NOREPINEPHRINE kicks in. This chemical in your brain kicks up your memory, branding small details of the encounter deep into your mind. These may pop up later in flashbacks or vivid recounting of the sexual encounter for years and years.

At the climax of the sexual encounter, OXYTOCIN trickles into the brain. Scientists first discovered this chemical in new mothers holding their child for the first time. It floods their brain, bonding them to their new baby, making them desire to hold it, and conveniently also signalling milk production to begin in earnest. New fathers also may get a dose when they hold their baby for the first time. And someone having a sexual climax gets a dose too, bonding them to the object of their desire and increasing the desire to cuddle and hold. (For that matter, holding hands or kissing may release amounts of oxytocin as well.)

After sex, SERATONIN oozes into the brain's bloodstream. This better-known chemical relaxes, calms, and gives a sense of satisfaction and well-being.

What's the up-shot? Well, when we look at a husband and wife, we see written God's good and crafty plan. At just the right times, chemicals we barely understand are released into our fragile brains. Chemicals to focus us on our mate, to help us remember and cherish every detail, to bond, and to feel satisfied in each other. In fact, these drugs are powerful enough that some compare them to a cocaine addiction--the husband and wife can literally become somewhat dependent on each other.

But switch the situation. Make it an illicit affair or someone masturbating alone to lifeless pictures. This person will be obssessed to focus on their desire, these images will be seared into their brain, bonding them together, releasing some of their stress and give them a chemical induced sense of calm.

Insidious. On one hand, we must admire the good God for his fatherly desire and design for his chilren. On the other we are dismayed at the trap Satan has waiting to snare us. How little we understand even our own bodies! Praise God and beware Satan.

Stop Listening

2010-06-03T07:59:00.001-07:00

It's so easy to listen like a lump and absorb like a sponge. It's hard to plan to change and stand up and do something.

Tonight I listened to a sermon that moved me to tears. The speaker's mother had lived with patched and threadbare clothes so she could send more money to gospel workers. She fasted often in her passion for those who hadn't heard. When she died her sons discovered she didn't have any money saved up of the amounts they had sent her each month for support. When the sermon was over a group of us discussed the message for a few minutes, talking about indigenous workers and their worth, the pastor's mother and her earnestness. Talking.

Then I came back to my apartment and sat down to read a wonderful book on cross-cultural ethics called "Strange Virtue" by Bernard Adeney. I read and read. So interesting, entertaining to my brain.

Lord, I read and listen about how to follow you year after year. When will I do? Bless me with the help of these other brothers and sisters to drop apathy and commit to action. I want (but don't want) to fast and pray, and to give money, to be a doer and not a hearer only, deceiving myself.

"Little children, let us not love in word and tongue, but in action and in deed."

POEM: When We Kneel Small

2010-05-20T09:12:00.000-07:00

It's a beautiful thing when we kneel small
And let the Son of Man grow tall
Sorrows shrink back down to size
And the sun dawns and begins to rise.

POEM: Sometimes Just a Presence

2010-05-13T09:15:00.000-07:00

sometimes just water is enough
sometimes just a presence
you are not the only one
wordless in these rooms

the Spirit with us here
often speaks with groans
too deep for words to bear

POEM: After Hanging Up

2010-05-08T00:36:00.000-07:00

The phone connection to daylit America closes,
The crickets start their song
In the darkness outside the apartment,

And in the moist stillness
I only feel the ache of separations
The urgency of His plan
Who is making all things new.

POEM: Aching

2010-05-07T00:50:00.000-07:00

Aching is a word we use--
A label on a jar
With a writhing snake inside
The scrawl on a chart
At the foot of a hospital bed
The way a broken bone feels
Too deep below the skin to show--
Somewhere down here in the heart
Hurts a place so deep
Only God can go
And He does.

Dogs and Mexican Food

2010-03-31T04:20:00.000-07:00

Built into dogs' DNA is the ability to vary greatly in appearance. They can be as small as a Chihuahua, as large as a St. Bernard. It's micro-evolution, and it's the opposite of macro-evolution. It shows clear design parameters pre-built into the DNA, pre-programmed to be able to change within boundaries. A dog's DNA will never let it become a cat. But it suggests a creator who likes variety and diversity.

Humans also have variety programmed into our DNA. That's where skin-color, facial shape, preferences, and personalities come from. And in case we stagnate, every father and mother brings fresh variables to shake it up. But I believe not only our bodies and personalities, but even our cultures are within His design. I believe He loves the variety of cultures. In specific, I want to mention food, probably because I'm hungry and my wife is making me a birthday dinner of Mexican fajitas from scratch. (The refried beans take about two to three days to make.)

There's a lot to say for Chinese food, for Italian pastas and American hamburgers. But personally I'm most grateful for Mexican food, including that cultural mutt called Tex-Mex. The world would be emptier without it. And I like to suspect that God himself is delighted in Mexican food, just as he laughs for joy at tiny Chihuahuas and giant St. Bernards. Splendid plan, God! Time to eat.

THOUGHTS: As the Sparks Fly Upward

2010-03-20T07:16:00.000-07:00

They say man is born for misery as the sparks fly upward. I won't deny it's true. Too many aches creep over me with each passing year--my back, my knees already growing creaky. Like black dust from this nearby factory too many disappointments gather on me, heroes fallen, friends hurt, hopes dashed, dreams laid aside in a quiet cabinet. Too many times I have seen tears, especially tears that I have caused, to deny our misery.

But somehow in the soot and ashes of our lives You live. Take us as a child again, grown old and cold into the gathering of Your arms. Wash us with the tears we wept, take frayed ends and mend and dust and wash and shine until Your own divine glows in our face again, until the sin and sadness we have brought ourselves are long forgotten beneath Your blue skies and sun. Remember our frail frames, our names written in the sand, for the wind is blowing.

Because we are indeed Your own give us enough sunshine to walk and reach our home. Give us enough shelter to find strength. And from there we stagger out under the stars and raise our hands, for the wind is joy, and the sand is warm, and even in the night there is enough light. We sit with the others you have sent around the firelight and raise our eyes to heaven as the sparks fly upward.

They Don't Deserve Compassion

2010-03-17T09:14:00.000-07:00

Apparently I've got the spiritual gift of Mercy in large doses. But some of my thoughts recently might not seem very merciful.

I was walking by a courtyard near our apartment in China the other day on the way to a meeting. Heaps of trash were littered around the edges of the small courtyard, and two or three small children were sitting in the dusty middle and playing with their plastic toys. My heart was at first wrenched at the sight of their poor living condition. After a minute of thought, however, I changed my mind. The trash didn't get there by accident. Their families are the ones who threw all the trash carelessly around the courtyard. They made their own mess.

Another example of my recent hard-heartedness: After seeing beggars in China (and even more sad, those who should be begging but are too proud), I began to have little patience with American beggars.

Beggars and many homeless in America, as far as I can tell, live that way as their choice of lifestyle. I've dabbled a little in street ministries, enough to know there are places devoted to giving people a roof over their head and getting people back on their feet. Say what you want about the difficult situations of homeless beggars in America, it doesn't hold a candle to the plight of a Chinese beggar. They have truly fallen between the cracks and there is no way back up again, ever.

*Flush* went my merciful feelings for American beggars.

So those who loudly clamor about how people deserve compassion are often mistaken. There are some orphans and truly helpless to whom I still award the label "deserving" to, but so many others get themselves into deep doo through their own ignorance and stupid choices. My neighbors don't "deserve" compassion for playing by the trash piles they themselves made.

Then I got snagged by the word "deserve."

Do I deserve the education I've gotten? Or forgiveness for the various mistakes I've made that have put me deep in the doo? Or the patience and untiring help of the Only Good One?

I realized I can still have mercy and compassion on my neighbors and their trash, and on American beggars. Not because they deserve it, but because God loves to give undeserved compassion. He is more understanding than we deserve, more patient than we deserve, and more helpful than we deserve. And I have the joy of learning to be like Him. Not to mention taking advantage of His compassion myself.

Beggars and Burning Questions

2010-03-04T19:21:00.000-08:00

I've been preparing to leave for China, travelling to China, and getting set up in a new apartment with my wife in China for the past some weeks, so I haven't had the chance to blog. In addition, blogspot is one of the many sites that are blocked from viewing in China. But for the moment I've found a way around the Great Firewall and am blogging again.

China is getting along fine compared to many countries in the world. Few people are starving to death, and if you're intellectually gifted you have a chance to rise in society. There is a sense of order and progress of sorts here, not the hopeless despondency hanging over many places on our globe. But still, compared to the American suburbs I frequent, there is a lot of raw poverty here.

So how do you respond when you walk past a girl sitting in a huge pile of trash, smiling? What do you do about the man in tattered clothes standing over there, picking some leftover food out of another trash pile in the alley? And what do you do when you try to give him some food but he refuses it? And what about the crippled boy with open sores lying on the sidewalk, begging? Most likely the sores were purposefully given to him by a beggar boss, and all his proceeds go to the local Fagin. (It feels like Oliver Twist here at times.)

Once I bought an ice cream cone from McDonald's for one of these boys, preferring to give him food instead of money. He violently refused the ice cream cone, and when I put it in front of him, he batted it away onto the sidewalk. I suspected his boss was watching, so I went back inside and kept an eye on him. After a few minutes, the boy looked around, and cautiously crawled over to the ice cream cone melting on the dirty sidewalk. As I left I saw him licking it hungrily.

If there were one or two such sad cases I could try to handle it. But in a country of 1.3 billion they seem limitless and this Ugly American realizes how tiny his fists are that beat against the vast iron wheel of the world.

So should I sorrow or not sorrow? If you allow all the sorrows of the world into your heart you will be broken. I have done that before. Yet tomorrow I'm going to an IKEA to buy some modern furniture or appliances for our new apartment. How does that fit in with the squalor nearby me?

Somehow I must find life with sensible compassion. I must do what I can in my small way to bring the kingdom. But is there a place for beauty and brightly furnished apartments? Where is the place for laughter and even pleasure? If I lose all my joy what do I have to give those without joy?

How wide do I open the door of my heart to the world's sorrows? How often should I allow my smile to become a grimace?

And in the back of my mind I always hear the warning:
"You have fattened yourselves in the day of slaughter."

PRAYER: To my God when in troubles

2010-02-10T22:34:00.000-08:00

My God, here in the hours of the late night I rest in your presence. I came boldly, dragging my ragged self into your holy light. You know, my God, that I do not read your word because I am holy, but because I am sick, and need your medicine.

You are the source of all that is sweet and bright in my life, the one who refreshes me when I am beyond refreshing. Those who look to you are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame! Do good to your servant that I may live and obey your word. Remember your promise to never think of my sins again. Deal gently with me and lift up my face, for I am dust, a whisper of smoke that quickly passes.

How great is your love for those who fear you! And you keep my tears in a bottle. So now grant me this, Lord: that you come near to me, for I am lonely and weak in heart. Come here, please, as I come to you. Let me be as St. John who rested his head on your chest at the table. And I will look up with joy, because you have heard my request. I will hold my chin high because you have been kind to me. I know you have heard my prayers for help and will deliver me from all my troubles.

"The righteous man has many troubles, but the Lord delivers him from them all."

Suffering: Pointing Fingers in the Wrong Direction?

2010-02-05T22:23:00.000-08:00

A whole lot of passionate and upset talk goes on about God and Suffering. How can a Loving God permit us to suffer unfairly? If He is so powerful why doesn't He stop our suffering? What about all the innocents who for example are homeless or crushed or crippled by the earthquake in Haiti or the hurricane in New Orleans?

It seems to some of us sensitive moderns that God doesn't do a very good job at being nice. The best excuse for him we can scrape together is that perhaps he doesn't ordain or control this world, but that he is somehow experiencing it as we do, in a sort of state of constant surprise.

That sort of stuff won't do. Either God wears the pants or He needs to find another name for himself. And maybe someone should slap me, but I think generally we're pointing fingers in the wrong direction when we have a problem with God. Don't get me wrong. I've worked with crippled orphans in China, ached for frost-bitten beggars in the street, been furious over child-prostitution in Cambodia, and been so angry at God for all the suffering in the world I have shouted at him for an hour or not talked to him for months.

I don't have all the logical answers I used to have. Maybe I'll have them again someday. But I've learned enough to know that any wrath and finger-pointing really needs to point at us. The more I see of humans and into my own heart, the more I feel sad for us and our selfishness. God doesn't need a PR guy but I want to say this anyway: He's the good guy. I've touched the hem of his garments and caught glimpses of his eyes and seen and felt the sunshine of his face. "Taste and see that the Lord is good." He's the force for good and healing in this world. If I can point a finger for a minute, I want to point it at Jesus, God in the flesh, hanging on the cross. That's a hint to what God is really like, even when we don't know all the why's of what he's doing. Save your angry questions for those who deserve it. Like you.

THOUGHTS: The Coming Dawn

2010-02-03T22:02:00.000-08:00

May your hearts burn warm as gold. May sunshine be ever growing in your face and cheeks and eyes. May peace like a river swell in your heart as you hum and break into singing in your living room and in your car. May the stars speak love to you in the night and the sun shout it by day. May every frog and dog and bird you see bring messages of life from the Lover of all things. And may your days wax richer, your passion burn deeper, your hand hold tighter to the swinging hand of the Almighty Father of all things.

Forever you will live, those of you blessed to abide in His shadow. Forever you will rest and run for joy. No eye has seen the peace you will experience, no ear has heard the fitting things He plans toward us through time and space.

For now you wait on the racked and dying crust of a lonely planet. For a time you see with the eyes of pain and restlessness the blood and hear the tears that also ache the heart of God. But peace will come to you who rest in Jesus. He will gather His sheep in His arms and lead them home. The age of evil is breathing its last days. The sunrise of righteousness sweeps toward us. Let those in the night know the Sun is rushing over a turning world to the time of dawn.

And after the ashes of this earth are blown away a crisp, fresh world will rise like the scent of flowers on an April breeze. And prophetic words will cease in the knowing peace. And miracles will be no more for all things will be new. Rest your hearts in the darkness. Listen to the song of the nightingale for he sings of day. And light will rise on the righteous in the coming dawn. And all will see in the light the Son of Man, a sword in hand for evildoers. He will rise with healing in His wings. May your hearts burn warm as gold refined by fire.

POEM: A Lament for Morgan

2010-01-29T17:03:00.000-08:00

A Lament for Morgan Harrington

Lie quiet in this grassy field
At last it's over
The painful hours are almost healed
In the whisper of breeze and crickets
As you leave behind
Your flesh and bone
Your broken earthly home
And now you leave us
Our concerts, our cars, our short careers
Our tears

We are sad for you
Sad for the unspeakable things
That happen in our world
By humans hands.
We wonder if God has left us to ourselves.
We turn our eyes from the mystery of you
And shake our heads
At the hole you leave behind.

Ponderings on Morgan's Murder

2010-01-27T13:01:00.000-08:00

So, I'm sitting here at a local coffee shop in Roanoke, staring out the front window. There's a newspaper stand a few feet from the window with a big headline: "Remains likely Tech student's."

I was shocked and saddened when I saw it--people around here have been looking for 20-year old Morgan Harrington's remains for the past three months since she disappeared from a Metallica concert. Apparently she was a little drunk at the concert and had gone to find a restroom. In the process she wandered out of the John Paul Jones arena there in Charlottesville, VA and when she tried to get back in they told her there was a strict no-readmission policy.

(That strikes me because I was in that same arena a few months ago for a U2 concert. Amber and I stepped outside after the concert and when we tried to go back in to find friends we were very annoyed to be refused re-entry.) So, she phoned her friends and told them she'd find another ride home. Apparently she went out thumbing a ride. Her cell phone (without a battery) and purse were found in one of the grass parking lots nearby. Now a farmer 10 miles south of Charlottesville just found her body along the fence line in the tall grass.

I'll be honest. After the initial shock of sadness, I immediately felt critical of Morgan. I thought, "You tried to hitch a ride home in the dark from a metal concert while wearing a mini-skirt and drunk?" It was pretty dumb, but then I remembered that I've done some pretty thoughtless or immature things too. And I bet if she had lived another twenty years she would have matured.

Then I thought about the guy or guys that did it. People usually shake their heads and moan, "I can't understand how one human could do this to another." The scary thing for me is I've always understood. Maybe it's time with God has shed more light in the dark places of my soul, or maybe I'm just worse than others, but I know the grip a wrong desire can have on a heart. I know how stubbornly you can pursue it, and how painful the guilt and regret are the next day. I know what it's like to try stuffing that guilt down, to get caught in cycles of bondage. Honestly, I think we all know what I'm talking about, on one level or another, whether it was the choice to smoke just one more cigarette or the choice to lash out and say something that really hurts someone else. There are a lot fewer steps between a "small" sin and guilty pleasure and a big one than we are comfortable knowing.

Maybe that's one reason Jesus said, "I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart," and equated anger and hatred with murder, which can send a person to hell (Matthew 5).

Anyone who hates his brother is a murderer, and you know that no murderer has eternal life in him.
(John wrote this in 1 John 3:15)

The commandments, "Do not commit adultery," "Do not murder," "Do not steal," "Do not covet," and whatever other commandment there may be, are summed up in this one rule: "Love your neighbor as yourself." (Paul wrote this in Romans 13:9)

So, according to God, if you and me find ourselves hating or lusting, we are in the same boat as the guy who gave in to his wrong desires and harmed Morgan so permanently. In fact, by failing to love our neighbor as ourself, we are breaking God's law. This guy failed to love his neighbor as himself--he was self-absorbed, to put it simply.

All that leaves me personally wide-eyed. Don't worry, God won't forget to punish whoever did this to Morgan. "For He who avenges blood remembers" (Psalm 9). But unless we want to share in his punishment for lusting and murdering we should tremble and humbly ask His forgiveness ourselves. He longs to forgive us sinners, but He won't unless we turn from our sins and seek forgiveness under the blood of His Son.

Unnecessary Trauma

2010-01-25T22:27:00.000-08:00

Last night while it rained outside, water began flooding into the basement where my wife and I live. (Some good friends have let us stay in their well-furnished basement apartment for free while we're on leave from China for six months.) The water began coming in more and more quickly, puddling and pooling and then working its way across the floor. Together with Caleb and Beth (our 'landlords') we fought it valiantly with towels and a carpet steam cleaner for some hours.

To ravage a little Lewis Carroll: We fought it with thimbles, we fought it with care; we pursued it with forks and hope.

The fight against the water lasted from about 11:00pm last night to almost 5:00am early this morning. We kept it from rising enough to ruin the furniture. We soaked up and sucked up between 100 and 150 gallons of dirty water. But I was blessed by Beth and Caleb's calm, matter-of-fact approach to the disaster. They knew they might have to replace their wood-flooring they just put down last year. They had to go out and spend almost two hundred bucks on shop-vacs and other supplies. But they just accepted it, worked at it, rolled with the punches. The night ended up being fun. We were comrades in the fight, and somehow it was meaningful. The two pizzas we cooked up at 3:00am and 4:30am didn't hurt either. But what I'm saying is there wasn't angst, tears, agony, or hair-pulling. What could have been a traumatic event became a blessing. We handled it together. We'll work it out one way or the other.

Reminds me of a verse from Hebrews 10:

You sympathized with those in prison and joyfully accepted the confiscation of your property, because you knew that you yourselves had better and lasting possessions.

These people had their hard-earned possessions unfairly confiscated by bullies or by the government of that day because they were Christians. But they took it calmly, even joyfully. One translation I think says they took it "cheerfully."

I think they could do that because they were keeping it in perspective. They knew which things were really important, and really lasting, and they didn't get hung up on temporary losses and painful setbacks here and now. I was blessed by Beth and Caleb's response last night. I hope I can gain that roll-up-the-sleeves cheerful approach to life's many troubles as well.

What should Writers Write?

2010-01-22T21:15:00.000-08:00

My mother-in-law recently gave me an excellent Christmas present. She subscribed me to Writer's Digest, a monthly magazine for writers. The articles are very practical for any aspiring writer, and I recommend it--not as a deep, inspirational, soul-changing effort, but as a technical encouragement.

But I did notice one thing. Again and again and again articles and advertisements promise to "inspire" my writing, give me new ideas, spur me on to brainstorms of immense proportions. It seems in the writing field everyone is scrambling for a new idea, a hot plot, a smooth style, or a catchy character. There's just one thing lacking in most--truth and deeper meaning. It feels like many of my fellow writer's highest aspirations are just to be read. I admit I feel that deeply, too.

"To create something you want to sell, you first study and research the market, then you develop the product to the best of your ability."
                                                              -Clive Cussler

"Ask yourself, 'Will other people find this story so interesting that they will tell others about it?' Remember: A bestselling book usually follows a simple rule, 'It's a wonderful story, wonderfully told'; not, 'It's a wonderfully told story."
                                                              -Nicholas Sparks

"Most of our lives are basically mundane and dull, and it's up to the writer to find ways to make them interesting."
                                                              -John Updike
I don't want to disillusion you by looking at the man behind the curtain, but here it is--many writer's highest hopes are to snag the attention and appreciation of readers. A large number of writers carry on mysteriously as though they have something really deep and meaningful to say, but if boiled down their stories leave only a couple beans and a noodle at the bottom of the pot. Take almost any novel off the New York Times' bestseller list and boil down what it says. Most likely it says that life is tough but we just have to get through it--and those are the deep ones.

Throughout this magazine I'm coming to love, there are "prompts" to help writers find something to write about. Here's one: "Write a short story of 750 words or fewer based on this issue's prompt.... PROMPT: Something bizarre occurs at the table next to a couple on their first date."

Now, this is just a fun exercise and a good excuse to hone the technical craft of writing in a limited number of words. But my point is that the prompt doesn't say: "PROMPT: A single mother who is a woman of faith is unfairly fired from her job. Write a short story about her being fired and what she does about it."

That would actually be quite a mouthful to write about in 750 words, but it has meaning. And the words "of faith" are a key part of the meaning. Presses are printing out numberless books about people in difficult situations who just go on suffering, making what scattered human sense they can of their short and disappointing lives.

In the midst of these, the stories of the Jewish Old and New Testaments stand out. The tapestry of story these tales tell weaves a world of meaningfulness, a world of great importance and consequence, a world that may actually have a good ending, where the bad guys get it and the good guys live happily ever after. "Great, a fairy tale," some may say. "We already have those."

A fairy tale, until we run smack into the sweating body of Jesus, and realize His tomb is empty, and His scaredy-cat followers became filled with joy and boldness overnight and (without exception) spoke boldly of His death and resurrection though most were martyred.

Could it be our world has a meaning? Could it be the story of our lives is no mere accident growing like fungus on the tree of time? When we look at our bodies and the world of nature can we really accept the tale that it is all a whim of chance? Or is there something more to write about?

No video camera recorded this

2010-01-21T20:07:00.000-08:00

There are so many things no video camera sees:

-Our democratic leaders discussing our future health behind closed doors
(They do not even allow sleepy C-SPAN in)

-The woman I read about who used RU-486, crying and screaming in the shower above the remains of her aborted baby
(Though her boyfriend outside the locked door will never forget it)

-Me, staring at a lewd advertisement that popped up on the screen, hesitating, hesitating.
(This time heaven won)

No human video cameras saw these moments. But I doubt the eyes of God forget anything.

     For He who avenges blood remembers...
                                           - Psalm 9: 12

While I long for justice in the world I find I should be careful throwing too many stones in my glass house.

     Remember, O LORD, your great mercy and love, for they are from of old.

     Remember not the sins of my youth and my rebellious ways; according to your love remember me, for you are good, O LORD.
                                          - Psalm 25: 6-7

POEM: If Earth Were Ours Forever

2010-01-20T22:46:00.000-08:00

If Earth Were Ours Forever

The latent stars swing overhead
Last gleams of ancient suns now dead
And leaning low across the sea
The ravaged moon hangs silently
How haggard here, how dread and drear
These wrinkled bones of sky appear
The upthrust of volcanic mounds
The silence in the cease of sounds
No life here, no laugh or cry
No scream for mercy, no asking why
This is the earth we'd have at last
If God just gave it all to us.

Rejoice or Sin!

2010-01-19T11:06:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I picked up C.S.Lewis's book, "The Problem of Pain." I had found it dull reading until my eyes read this and I nearly dropped the book:

"My own idea, for what it is worth, is that all sadness which is not either arising from the repentence of a concrete sin and hastening towards concrete amendment or restitution, or else arising from pity and hastening to active assistance, is simply bad; and I think we all sin by needlessly disobeying the apostolic injunction to 'rejoice' as much as by anything else."

Some people say anger is okay--but only in a few situations. Outside of those anger is a sin. Lewis is saying the same thing about sadness! He says the only times God is pleased for us to be sad is if we are 1) actively repenting of a sin or 2) feeling pity for someone and hurrying to help them. And both of those are temporary sadnesses. All other sadness "is simply bad; and I think we all sin by needlessly disobeying the apostolic injunction to 'rejoice' as much as by anything else."

That was shotgun blast of light to a melancholic like myself. I didn't have the strength to read any more of Lewis after that sentence, so I went and grabbed my daily devotional book "Daily Strength for Daily Needs" the classic by Mary Tileston. Let me reprint here the devotion for that day (January 18) and leave it to you to ponder.

Thou shalt rejoice in every good thing which the LORD thy God hath given unto thee.
               -Deuteronomy 26:11

Rejoice evermore. . . . In every thing give thanks.
                -1 Thessalonians 5:16, 18

Grave on thy heart each past "red-letter day"!
Forget not all the sunshine of the way
By which the Lord hath led thee; answered prayers,
And joys unasked, strange blessings, lifted cares,
Grand promise-echoes! Thus thy life shall be
One record of His love and faithfulness to thee.
            -Frances Ridley Havergal

Gratitude consists in a watchful, minute attention to the particulars of our state, and to the multitude of GOd's gifts, taken one by one. It fills us with a consciousness that God loves and cares for us, even to the least event and smallest need of life. It is a blessed thought, that from our childhood God has been laying His fatherly hands upon us, and always in benediction; that even the strokes of His hands are blessings, and among the chiefest we have ever received...

When this feeling is awakened, the heart beats with a pulse of thankfulness. Every gift has its return of praise. It awakens an unceasing daily converse with our Father--He speaking to us by the descent of blessings, we to Him by the ascent of thanksgiving. And all our whole life is thereby drawn under the light of His countenance, and is filled with a gladness, serenity, and peace which only thankful hearts can know.

             -Henry Edward Manning

----------------------------
If you think of me, pray I would learn how to rejoice, even in trials! -Daniel

Should I Praise Myself?

2010-01-16T22:36:00.000-08:00

Today a good friend of mine asked me, "Do you ever praise yourself?"

We were talking about how I'm sometimes criticial of myself and insecure. And being insecure makes me feel defensive at times since I'm married to a competent and vivacious lady and I feel sometimes deep down that I'm not doing perfectly at being decisive and responsible and "taking care of things."

To make matters worse, I tend to grade myself down. I expect myself to do perfectly, so when I only manage to do decently, I feel discouraged and criticize myself as a sorry loser. That brought the question from my friend: "Do you ever praise yourself?"

My friend and I both know the Sunday School answer. "I mustn't praise myself--that's proud and arrogant."
The Bible verse leapt to my mind: "Let another praise you, and not your own mouth; someone else, and not your own lips." (Proverbs 27:2).

But right behind that came Paul's words--Paul, that brokenly humble yet confident man. He wrote to us:

"Each one should test his own actions. Then he can take pride in himself, without comparing himself to somebody else..."

The advice from Proverbs is general good sense: don't go around trumpeting your praises if you really want others to honor you. Paul answers my more personal question: Yes, praise yourself in your heart, Daniel, without comparing yourself to others. (Of course don't emptily praise yourself. Paul also had cautioned: "If anyone thinks he is something when he is nothing, he deceives himself." Galatians 6)

In the end, the real praise we will value is God's praise, I think. Our own praise and even others will be forgotten when we hear His voice.

But maybe praising myself if I've done something well is helping me to hear His voice now. Maybe if accusations are from the enemy, praise can be from God. A few times I've tuned out the voices in me that constantly accuse, and tuned in to God's radio station. He knows how to rebuke, but most often when I listen He is encouraging me, pointing out the good I've done and overlooking the failures, praising me as any proud father would. It brings tears to my eyes when I hear His eager praises of me.

Martin Luther said we need to preach the gospel to ourselves every day.

I still feel Sunday School shame to praise myself in my heart for the good things I've done. And find it so easy to criticize myself for every small mistake.

Is the God of the Old Testament a Scrooge?

2010-01-16T21:54:00.000-08:00

The God of the Old Testament gets a bad rap.

It seems like here He is bringing plagues on Egypt; there He is commanding armies to swarm across the face of the land like locusts destroying everything. Some people assume when He is not handing out laws He's handing out judgments. I won't get too deeply into it today, but I just want to make a note here:

The more I really started cracking the pages of the Old Testament and working honestly through it, the more an image of a gracious God grew in my mind.

Sure, He is eminently shrewd and unflappable--if the Israelites insist on sacrificing their infants to demonic gods and murdering the poor in the streets, they deserve an occasional foreign invasion to stop their madness. But most of the Old Testament seems interlaced with stories of God's unwearying patience. Before God tucked Noah on an ocean-liner and flushed the earth clean, at least two-thousand years had passed from Adam and Eve's first defiance, ages filled with violence and bloodshed.

Although the prophetic books are spotted with warnings of coming judgments, He let Israel and Judah run wild for hundreds of years before at last punishing them. In fact the more I read the more frustrated I grew at God for his patience and reluctance to slap down on these jackasses. Remember Jezebel and Ahab? Ahab had one of the longest reigns of any Israeli king. He and the first lady led the way in pagan idolatry and corruption. Ahab did things like allowing righteous Naboth to be killed to take his vineyard from him because it was a convenient walk from Ahab's bedroom. Does God strike Ahab with lightning?

Nope, He sends a prophet to proclaim some future punishment. Ahab tears his clothes and weeps. And lickety-split, God says, Okay, I won't punish Ahab during his life because he humbled himself. Or what about how after hundreds of years of sexual orgies and child sacrifice, God at last sends Babylon in slice and dice and take the leading citizens of Jeruslam into exile and tear down the smelly city of Jerusalem. Hundreds of years! I couldn't stand his agonizingly slow response time to these evils.

And while we humans were down here sinning up a storm like a stench in the nostrils of anyone good, God just yammers about how He can't bear to see us get punished. Read through these three passages from three different Old Testament prophets and listen to God's heart for yourself:

(Hosea):

"When Israel was a child, I loved him, and I called my son out of Egypt. But the more I called to him, the farther he moved from me, offering sacrifices to the images of Baal and burning incense to idols. I myself taught Israel how to walk, leading him along the hand. But he doesn't know or even care that it was I who took care of him....

War will swirl through their cities; their enemies will crash through their gates. They will destroy them, trapping them in their own evil plans. For my people are determined to desert me...

Oh, how can I give you up, Israel? How can I let you go? How can I destroy you like Admah or demolish you like Zeboiim? My heart is torn within me, and my compassion overflows. No, I will not unleash my fierce anger. I will not completely destroy Israel.... For someday the people will follow me. I, the LORD, will roar like a lion. And when I roar, my people will return trembling from the west." (From Hosea 11)

In Isaiah after long chapters of angry judgments He says:

"Comfort, comfort my people,' says your God. 'Speak tenderly to Jerusalem. Tell her that her sad days are gone and her sins are pardoned." (from Isaiah 40. And don't forget chapter 53 in your estimations.)

In Jeremiah, written in the last days of Judah as the city of Jerusalem was preparing to be at last destroyed by the Babylonians, we hear this:

"'My wayward children,' says the LORD, 'come back to me and I will heal your wayward hearts.' 'Yes, we're coming," the people reply, 'for You are the LORD our God. Our worship of idols on the hills and our religious orgies on the mountains are a delusion.'

"O Israel," says the LORD, "if you wanted to return to me, you could. You could throw away your detestable idols and stray away no more....Then you would be a blessing to the nations of the world, and all people would come and praise my name."

Does the God of the Old Testament sound like Scrooge? Or like God?

On receiving criticism

2010-01-14T21:45:00.000-08:00

A year ago, one of my best friends and my girlfriend (now wife) came to visit me in my apartment in China.

After grabbing a bag of my precious Doritos, they sat down and commanded me to bring forth my clothing wardrobe. What ho, you might say. Is this a burlesque or modeling show? Not quite. They knew that I, a home-schooled aspiring writer, lacked something in the way of fashion. They were doing an intervention. I pulled out one of my favorite long-sleeved collared shirts, a bright blue color. "It's too large," they agreed. I stared at my beloved shirt defensively. Well, I suppose it did hang almost to my knees and flapped out like a sail on the HMS Bounty. But still, a nice color. But not as nice as the green floral Hawaiian shirt I pulled out next. "Burn it!" they shouted in horror. I was amused by their irony until I found out they lacked iron.

The next hour blurred into a maelstrom of tongue-lashing. I emerged, shaken, refined by fire, and minus one bag of Doritos. Why did I put up with it? First, because those two loved me. And second, because I knew deep in my heart I needed it. I pitched most of those clothes into trash bags and left them outside my apartment for the street beggars. (They were overjoyed.) The end result is that I'm now usually sharply outfitted in clothes that actually match each other and fit my muscular figure.

I was reminded of this earlier this evening when these same two, a best friend and my now-wife, once again gave me a tongue-lashing. They berated me up and down for saying I want to write and not writing. For thirty minutes it was quite painful, and several times I wanted to lash back or tell them to shut up. But I knew first, that they loved me. And second, that I needed it. I just didn't want it.

Let a righteous man strike me—it is a kindness; let him rebuke me—it is oil on my head.
My head will not refuse it.

-Psalm 141:5

Like an earring of gold or an ornament of fine gold is a wise man's rebuke to a listening ear.

-Proverbs 25:12