Category: regular

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Thanks

For creating my wife in such a way that she compliments me so well.

For giving us two sets of supportive (grand)parents who love us.

For all the folks who have given sacrificially of their money so that students would hear the gospel.

For giving us our sweet little boy to raise in such a way that he grows up to honor God with his life.

For not allowing us to continue wallowing around in our sin, but repeatedly saving us from ourselves.

For allowing us to live in a country where it is legal to share our faith, to worship You openly, and to post on a blog about you.

For giving us your written Word, so that we can know authoritatively what you think.

For Grace.

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Idolatry is a Pitching Wedge.

Yesterday I played a round of golf.  Heading into hole 15, I needed two strokes to catch the leader.  Either I had to step it up, or he had to make a mistake.  As I swung, my heart was racing.  Adrenaline in my sytem took control, and I had what was probably the longest, best drive of my life.  Easily 250 yards, dead straight, middle cut of the fairway.  I was ecstatic.  I glanced again at the score card, made my way to my second shot, and amazingly repeated the same accuracy, reaching the green in only two shots.

Those of you who have ever played golf with me know how atypical (and borderline unbelievable) this whole scenario is.  Those of you with an internet connection and a decent memory might also know that even if I had made time in my schedule for a round of golf yesterday, the weather in western NC was terrible, and I would not have played.

I was playing a video game.  Tiger Woods Golf on my Playstation 2.  (I know, PS2 is sooo early-2002.  Give me a break.  It works just fine.)  But the odd thing is that if you had put those fancy heart monitor leads on me while playing, it would have been tough to argue that I wasn’t actually experiencing a round of golf.  I was nervous, excited, angry, and my heart really was racing as I played.

The thing about my experience yesterday that is so telling is what I put off doing so that I could play video games.  We are in the process of writing and sending our annual end-of-year financial support appeal letter.  I should have been finishing it to send to the printer so that we could effectively raise support.  Instead, I opted for the thrill of the back nine at the TPC at Sawgrass.  Why?

If you are ever looking for a way to understand your heart, asking the question “Why?” always gets you there the fastest.  For me, today’s answer to yesterday’s question is complex.  I desperately long to be powerful, in control, and respected.  These are just a few of the idols I bow down to (and repent of bowing down to) on a daily and hourly basis.  The video game told me yesterday I was worth something.  I have a “career earnings” on the game of well over $10,000,000.00.  In the interest of full disclosure, I grossed $16,200.53 in my first full year of staff with Campus Crusade.  I’m better at making virtual money.  The video game told me I was talented and competent.  I holed a 45 foot eagle putt, and beat Tiger Woods in head-to-head match play.

I got lied to by a 6-year-old piece of electronic equipment.  The lie wasn’t necessarily that I am competent, talented, worth something, or wealthy; but that the basis for those things could ever be found in a video game.  Jesus must have rolled his eyes when I got nervous over a putt on a video game that really did not (nor could not possibly) matter in the grand scheme.

My aversion to raising financial support is that it almost never feeds my idols of self-reliance and control.  I am laid bare (thankfully only metaphorically) before the people that I challenge to join us financially.  In a culture that relentlessly feeds isolation and independence, I am forced to depend on others, and engage in community.  Raising support forces me to do that, and to experience the rush of trusting God for his provision.  That’s a sensation that is far more real than any video game can deliver.

Now if only I could remember that the next time my favorite idols come calling.

And while I am at it, you can join our team of financial ministry partners here.

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"So How old is He?"

I love this question.  People often ask how old my little boy is, and I am learning that you can’t answer the same as when he’s 15.  You have to count by weeks, or hours, or something.  I am having trouble figuring out what these people want out of me.

He’s 225 days old today.  Thanks for asking.

I’ve decided that once he hits 9 months, I am going to start answering “Almost a year” and after that you’ll be lucky if I even break it into half-years.  I may say “A year and a half,” but I can assure you my child will never be “18 months” old.

If you want how many months, weeks, or dirty diapers he is old, you’ll have to ask my wife.  He’s a half a year, according to me, for the next couple of months.

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Absurd Christmas Hymns

Having a closer listen to popular Christmas carols’ lyrics, you begin to understand how those outside of Christianity are left scratching their heads.  Here’s two that I have heard recently that have me scratching, as well.

“…A Child, a Child, shivers in the cold, let us bring Him silver and gold…”

It is just me, or does it seem borderline cruel to give a shivering baby a nice pair of cufflinks?  I think he could use a blanket.  Furthermore, how cold was it in a middle eastern stable?  This song is confusing.

“…The Ox and Lamb kept time, pa-rum-pum-pum pum…”

The whole concept of mini-concert in the aforementioned stable is awkward at best, but this line pushes me right over the edge.  I guess the songwriter thought he could just slip in a line about the rhythmic farm animals without us noticing.  We caught you, songwriter man.  I’ll blindly assume it was a man who wrote such an absurd line.  I’ll also stab in the dark and say the guy was a part-time songwriter, part time homebrewer, and he was experimenting with some high gravity pale ales while he whipped up this ditty.

I’ll keep my ears open for more holiday goodness, as we roll toward the 25th.  Any tips on some good lines would be appreciated.  Comment below.

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Why I don’t recommend "The Shack"

I just got done reading The Shack by William Paul Young.  As a heads up, I am probably going to spoil the plot for you in this review.  But that it pretty well done by reading the back cover of the book, so I don’t feel too bad about it.

Any time a book is sweeping the nation and addresses spiritual issues, I feel compelled to read it, to stay on top of what the culture is producing.  Frankly, that’s the only reason I even made it all the way through this book.  It’s just not good, from a literary and artistic standpoint.  It attempts to create a strange sort of new genre somewhere at the intersection of realistic fiction, fantasy, theological non-fiction, and philosophy.  In so doing, it is completely confusing.

In trying to meet in-between genres, you lose believability and credibility in all of them.

As a work of realistic fiction, it’s laughable for it’s predictability, aggressive foreshadowing, and melodrama.  The lines are forced and heavy early on in the book, trying to set the stage for the Missy’s murder.  I felt brow-beaten by the onslaught of cliched sappy-ness juxtaposed with the impending doom.

As a work of fantasy, it’s unbearably cheesy (a guy goes for a walk with Jesus off the end of a dock and across a lake?  Really?  That’s not supposed to make me laugh?).  Personifying God as an African-American woman is not a punishable offense, on the surface.  Making her live up to multiple negative stereotypes of African American culture, from the “barefoot in the kitchen with flour on her face” to having her start every other sentence with “honey,” could very well be a crime, if you are looking to write a respectable novel.

As a work of theological non-fiction, it’s far too loose with the analogies, metaphors, and anthropomorphisms to be considered anything other than heretical by serious Christian theologians.  In fact, the book even conjures the goddess Sophia, a key player in many pseudo-christian religious movements such as Gnosticism and various other forms of cultic mysticism.  When “Papa” (the female “Father” figure of the book—which I am not going to comment on for the sake of brevity—and to avoid the hate-mail) declares her preferred name to be “Elousia,” and the “Holy Spirit” figure in the book goes by “Sarayu” both of those names have roots in Hindu scriptures.  I could spend a long time nailing down all of the things I see theologically wrong with the book, but others have done that quite well.  Click here for a thorough, fair, and sensitive approach by another blogger to the theological issues at hand.  Some of the comments after the post become heated, but the blogger himself does a great job.

As a work of philosophy it comes the closest to believable, as it does a fair job through the characters of relating philosophical truths and concepts.  But it gets too bogged down in plot and character development to really shine as a work of philosophy.

In short, please don’t read The Shack.  It’s just not good.  It sincerely frightens me when people say things like “The Shack will change the way you think about God forever,” as Kathie Lee Gifford says just inside the front cover.  Paul’s letter to the Romans or possibly Desiring God by John Piper can change the way you think about God forever.  The Shack should not do so.  It’s bad “Christian Art” at best, and dangerous heresy at worst.  And shame on Michael W. Smith for endorsing it on the back cover.

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