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Wednesday, August 25, 2004 posted by R.C. 5:57 AM link |
Limited Language I am once again back in my accustomed spot, so to speak, as the baldest person in my house. That’s good news and bad news. The bad news is we have no bitty babies. The good news is that my dear wife’s hair is growing back. At this point, however, she still, most often, wears a hat when going out. The other day she had a new hat on, and asked me if I liked it, “Yes I do,” I replied, “I’d say it’s… jaunty.” “That’s the word I thought of as well” she replied. Ever since then I have been focused on neither hair nor hats, but language. I spent the drive to wherever we were going trying to think if I had ever seen, or if I could come up with a sentence using “jaunty” and not using “hat.” I mean, why do we have an adjective that describes only one noun? Rather inefficient, don’t you think? When I couldn’t come up with such a sentence, I went on a second quest, and that’s where you come in. I am trying to find other examples of words that only go with one other word. I’m taking applications. Either way I’ll be grateful, find jaunty another noun to describe, or find another adjective as faithful as jaunty. All this to say, if you’ve ever wondered what goes on in my fevered imagination (almost, but it could have been mind or thoughts) when I’m not working, now you know. Scary isn’t it? [comments] |
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Saturday, August 21, 2004 posted by R.C. 5:59 AM link |
A Dead Letter, or Onesimus the Free Imagine for a moment that you lived in the land of the free. This great nation spent more time in its founding documents speaking of what the state couldn’t do, than about what it ought to do, a sure harbinger of blessing to come. This country was established as a republic, under the rule of law, rather than the whims or appetites of men. For once in our blighted history we taste the sweetness of the promise of Paul, “For rulers are not a terror to good conduct, but to bad” (Romans 13:3a). Nice little mental experiment, isn’t it? Now imagine that over the years the nation as a whole lost sight of this vision of good government. The state began to expand its powers, sometimes of its own will, sometimes to meet the demand of the citizens. The law of the land first was stretched this way and that. Smudges began to dull the sharp clarity of the restraints on the state. Eventually the law of the land was put under glass where it could be safely saluted, honored, and ignored. So what do we do, in such a situation? We be subject to the governing authorities. Everyone agrees on that. What we disagree on is just who, or what those governing authorities are. Is that authority established by the niceties of political theory, or the realities of who is in power? Appeals to the Constitution are beside the point. Bear arms out in public, and see the power of the second amendment. Don’t pay what they (that is the people with the power, not the papers under glass) say you owe, and see the power of the fourth amendment. Thumb your nose at Washington’s requirement that you serve whomever shows up at your lunch counter, and see the power of the tenth amendment. The authority has ceased to be the Constitution in this situation, and, as you might have guessed, in real life. Appeals to reason, to Scripture, to the Constitution, even to their own case laws (or lack thereof) is pointless in the face of a law run by lawless thugs. Slaves are not only required to obey kind masters, but wicked ones as well. What we need is courage, and we need it in double measure. First, we must have the courage to face up to the reality. That most of the slaves think we still live in the land of the free demonstrates that they have been educated by lawless thugs. Freedom begins with the courage to reject the craven cowardice that suggests that because the cage is gilded, that we are free. That our masters allow us to gather together for our worship (at least if we don’t run afoul of their zoning laws) is indeed a blessing (from God and not the state), but we are still their slaves. The next step is to have the courage to be free enough to be a slave. I serve King Jesus, and will not resist what God has appointed, unless or until they command me to do what God forbids, or forbid me to do what God commands. And as God is my witness, I will strive to serve Him so faithfully, I will walk that second mile even if, as I walk, the whole world calls me a coward. [comments] |
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Wednesday, August 18, 2004 posted by R.C. 6:40 AM link |
Oh Solo Mio I have just returned from the second Uniting Church and Family conference in Saint Louis, put on by my friends at Vision Forum. Everything went swimmingly, and I enjoyed time with my eldest daughter, with Doug, his staff and family and the other speakers, and equally important, with the good people attending the conference. The children were delightful, the mothers exuded joy, and the husbands were men. Which, of course, doesn’t in the least surprise me. These families are, by and large if not exclusively, homeschoolers. They have, by and large, rather large families, and believe children to be a blessing from God. They attend, by and large, family-integrated churches. These match my own convictions, as we have homeschooled all our children from birth, have been blessed with six of them so far, and long for more. I not only attend a family-integrated church, but planted one, that has in turn birthed two more, so far. So what do I have to worry about? As I said at the conference, this is what worried me. Most of the folks in the room paid no attention to the superintendent of schools when they determined to homeschool their children. They paid no attention to their own parents when they determined to trust God on the size of their families. They ignored the advice of the director of children’s ministries when they took their toddlers out of the nursery. They disregarded the wisdom of the youth guy when they took their older children out of youth group. And many of them disregarded their elders when they decided to leave where they were going, and fellowship in a family-integrated fellowship. With the possible exception of the last one, each of these decisions I would applaud. But there is a dangerous pattern, a bucking against authority. Of course if you look carefully you’ll see that school superintendents don’t actually have any authority. Parents, once there has been a leaving and cleaving, give counsel, but not orders. The director of children’s ministries has no authority, except perhaps to decide whether to have goldfish or graham crackers for snack time in the nursery. The youth guy likewise has no formal authority. Still, those who are in authority ought to seek the wisdom of others, and if the others come out wrong every time, you might want to check if maybe you aren’t wrong. Patriarchy, a word I’m delighted to own, despite those who would mock it, does indeed mean that men are to lead their homes, to exercise authority. It is good that men are ceasing to abdicate, to hand their children to assorted teachers and parachurch workers to raise them. But the most important, most helpful part of patriarchy is not exercising authority, but submitting to it. (And submitting to the intangible Jesus in our mind doesn’t quite cut it.) That is, those who would lead must learn how to follow. We shouldn’t be surprised if we find that our children, as they grow older, buck under authority, if they have watched us do the same all our lives. If we would rule well, we must submit well. A church on its own and alone, even if all the daughters are dressed demurely, even if the little ones sit quietly during worship, even if the heads of the women are covered, is just as worldly as the church down the street with the purple-haired youth guy, and the senior pastor in the clown suit. For the spirit of the age isn’t defined by what the eye can see, but by the heart that declares itself free of all constraints. [comments] |
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Wednesday, August 11, 2004 posted by R.C. 7:07 AM link |
The Son of a Better Man Father Abraham had many sons. Which is why it ought not surprise me that there is from time to time a family resemblance. Abraham negotiated with God, and I tend to do the same. There is contrast as well, however. The father is greater than the son because of for whom he negotiated, and for whom I negotiate. I mean, it’s a scary thing to dicker with the Almighty. But what prompted Abraham to do so was compassion for his worldly nephew Lot. He took hat in hand, and risked the wrath of the Almighty to carve an escape route out for his kin. My own heart does not so rightly fear, and my own motives are not so pure. As my own lawyer, I have a fool for a client. Like Abraham I know that God controls all things. Unlike Abraham I think all things should be controlled for the sake of my comfort. When my daughter was diagnosed with a condition approximating cerebral palsy, I took it in stride. “Okay Lord,” I reasoned, “I am willing to take this hardship from your hand. You are not only all powerful, but all wise, and if this is what you have for me, I’ll take it.” And so in the matter of me, God and suffering, we had an agreement. We were done, and could move onto other issues. Then that same daughter began having seizures. One could argue it either way, that this was a new thing to be negotiated, or simply an unexpected extension of the previous deal. Here discretion was the better part of valor, and I let it pass. My wife having cancer, now that was another matter altogether. We hadn’t talked about this. But again, He is the almighty, and so I went to the bargaining table, and agreed to take this on as well. Surely now we have reached the end, at least for the time being, and because I’m such a tough guy, I’ll take this on too. All that I have, after all, is from Him. All that I am, is by Him. All that I am to be, will come by His decretive will. And then God stepped on my toe. Not quite literally, but almost. My patience only began to run thin when He sent me gout. I mean gout of all things. What a strange salad of suffering. It is triply embarrassing, in that it is for old people, in that it is for people who overindulge in fine food and drink, and in that it attacks you in the big toe. How serious can it be, if it’s a toe thing? (Not many remember that Hall of Fame middle linebacker Jack Lambert, a man so mean he didn’t even like himself, ended because of an injury- turf toe.) Then there is the cure- eating and drinking like some nineteenth century utopian zealot. But worse than all that is the pain. Man does it hurt. And so in the quiet of some dark corner of my heart, where like a fool I think God can’t hear me, I wonder just what He thinks He’s doing, piling on like that. Imean, haven’t I been a good soldier and not grumbled about these earlier hardships? Didn’t we agree that if I would carry that load like a trooper that He would bless me? And so He has, sending me an enflamed toe to stuff in my mouth, such that I might repent. His grace is to tear down my pride, to cleanse me of the sin of Ananias and Saphira, wherein I hold back my toe as my own. Here is the negotiating gambit He is leading me to- Take my life, and let it be, consecrated my Lord to Thee. May I hobble my way to it soon. [comments] |
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Tuesday, August 03, 2004 posted by R.C. 9:18 PM link |
What About Me and My Weeds? It’s a big world out there, full of all manner of sin. In these United States sodomites parade their perversion down Main Street. In Canada to denounce sodomy as perversion is to invite prosecution by the state. In parts of Europe more couples cohabit than marry. In Iraq and East Timor militant Muslims blow up churches in service to Allah. Sin abounds out there. Too often Christians in rightly wanting to wage war with sin aim far and miss far. One of the great evils of these great evils is that they distract us from the great evils in ourselves. Flamboyant sin delights the devil because its very brightness blinds us to our own more humdrum sins. It is a good thing to be aghast at the great sins of the world. We ought never to become jaded to any sin. We must see it for what it is, an affront to God, and an assault on His dignity. The problem of sodomy isn’t that it turns our stomachs or makes our children ask embarrassing questions, but that it is a vile stench in the nostrils of God. It is a good thing to pray that God would do great things to stop this wickedness, to pray that His grace and His wrath would be poured out. But it is a better thing, if you’ll pardon the piety, that we pray and labor to eradicate that sin which is closest to us, which resides within our own hearts. Sodomites, after all, not only do not have the Spirit of God indwelling them, but are in fact doing what they do as a result, not just a cause of, the judgement of God. Political fools who will not kiss the Son won’t kiss the Son because they can’t even see His kingdom. Fornicating Euros were raised by those outside the covenant, and so it is little wonder that they play the harlot. And Muslims are in the grip of the demon that they worship. I, on the other hand, have been bought with a price. I am a child of the Father, in union with the Son, and indwelt by the Spirit. I have been born again unto good works. I am a new creation, and so my sins, rather than being small by comparison, dwarf the peccadillos of the damned. I haven’t been given much, but have been given everything. And so everything is required of me. I, as a Reformed person, am the worst of the lot. I would rather spend my time debating about the place of good works in the life of the Christian, than cultivating good works in my life. I would rather hone my “worldview” than see the log that is in my own eye. I think sanctification is a doctrine, rather than a calling. And I am more interested in having my mind renewed than in being transformed. I would rather look down my nose at piety than I would seek it out. Lord have mercy on me, a sinner, and teach me my sin. [comments] |