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Wednesday, March 30, 2005 posted by R.C. 10:07 PM link |
Heart Failure I have not taken finger to keypad as yet to weigh in on the Terry Schiavo case. There have been at least three reasons for this. First, believe it or not, I try to shy away from commenting on the story of the day. I want what I try to teach through this odd medium (Make no mistake, I’m not writing a diary, I’m trying to help Christians live more simple, separate and deliberate lives for the glory of God and the building of His kingdom.) to not be determined by what holds sway on that other medium, the television. Rather I want it to spring forth from the fountain of life, the Word of God. Second, I don’t know that I have anything peculiar to add. Cyberspace may provide us with infinite vistas, but such doesn’t mean we need an infinite number of monkeys all typing the same thing. I can count, in general, on my cyber-friend Bret MacAtee at Acid Ink to write with wisdom, and with this issue, two fine men, Tim and David Bayley are blogging from on site in Pinellas Park. The third reason, however, may at the same time move me closer to journal writing, and may likewise be one place I can offer a different perspective. I haven’t written on this issue because I have rightly believed that I don’t have the emotional capacity to think about this issue for even an hour at a time. Like the doctrine of hell, there may be some things that burn too brightly to be looked at for too long. I’m not absolutely certain that this is my failure. It might well be. The Lord knows I have more than enough of those to go around. On the other hand, it might well be that evil of this magnitude, on Michael’s part, on the judges’ parts, on Jeb Bush’s part, on the church’s part, on the nation’s part, is simply too repulsive to look at for any length of time. Which in turn reminds me, even if I’m not to be blamed for my inability to look these evils in the eye, that my real problem is that I can’t look my own evil in the eye. I can’t see what’s out there because I won’t look at what’s in here. My selfishness here and my weakness are doubly true. That is, not only am I too weak to completely forget thinking about happy thoughts like what’s for lunch, but the source of the pain on this issue lies too close to home. I spend thirty seconds thinking about Terry and her suffering and her circumstance, and then each time my heart and mind slip into thinking about my own little girl, and I can’t see the screen in front of me for the tears. Shannon, my third child, at age seven, like Terry cannot feed herself. Like Terry she wears diapers, and must be bathed. Like Terry she doesn’t pay attention, and can’t follow directions. Like Terry she cannot speak. Unlike Terry, she is under the care of a man who has covenanted to care for her, and whose heart loves her, and so she lives. It is good and proper that my heart should ache that Shannon should live in a world where the world thinks people like her should not continue to live. But it is likewise good and proper that she should live in a home where she is the very joy of our lives. The days are evil. Because our hearts are evil. May God be pleased to strengthen my heart, that I might better know its weakness. [comments] |
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Thursday, March 24, 2005 posted by R.C. 8:24 PM link |
Precious in the Lord’s Sight I may be guilty of affirming the obvious, but nevertheless it’s true. We who embrace the Reformed faith are known among other evangelicals for three things. First, we like to talk about predestination. Dispensationalists talk about Daniel and Revelation. Charismatics talk about Pentecost, and Reformed people talk about predestination. Second, we are the smart ones. Reformed folk are careful, rightly so, about their theology. We want an ordered understanding of God and His dealings with man. Third, we are known throughout the evangelical realm as the arrogant ones. See, right above there is a Reformed guy saying we’re the smart ones. Our reputation, I believe, fits us. But not all of us. Every now and again God in His judgment gives us stupid, arrogant folk, your present writer being a prime example. But every now and again, God in His grace gives us a smart man, who is likewise wise enough to be humble. Recently, God took back such a gift, calling such a man home. My peculiar upbringing and my former work as editor of a leading Reformed magazine combined to give me quite a star studded rolodex. I know the leading luminaries of the Reformed faith, as I have known the great ones who have gone on to their reward, John Gerstner, James Boice, Carl Henry, and Francis Schaeffer to name only a few. God gives some to be this, and some to be that. Boice was as fine a preacher as we have seen for generations, Gerstner had the logical precision of a computer, and the heart of a lion. Francis Schaeffer was gifted to show us empires, realms and kingdoms that we had not thought of for generations, and reminded us that our Lord rules them all. Carl Henry was a gentleman and a scholar, who loved the Bible. One need not think long to find the right superlative with which to remember Edmund Clowney. Dr. Clowney left a legacy at two seminaries, with but one name between them, Westminster Seminary in Philadelphia, and in San Diego. His work for IVP on the church will likely instruct its subject for generations to come. But what stands out about the man is this, he was a man of profound humility. The devil is rightly called the accuser. He assaults my assurance by pointing to my sin. The same is true, however, corporately. That is, it is sometimes hard to believe that God is at work when we see the evil of our nation, and the craven spirit that inhabits the church. That God could give a man as gifted as Dr. Clowney the crowning gift of humility, however, is proof that He is at work on this planet. May He be pleased to so work in my life, and in the life of those I love. And may He likewise comfort those who love Him, and those who loved him. [comments] |
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Tuesday, March 08, 2005 posted by R.C. 10:42 PM link |
What Dreams May Die It is embarrassing that I didn’t do it sooner, on at least two counts. First, we went to the trouble of packing this stuff, only to now throw it away. Second, it was juvenilia to begin with, that should have been tossed overboard with my old acid washed jeans. Today I write from my new office. It is not completely finished, but is finished enough that I could begin unpacking, and now can write from within. It’s been a long time coming. And it has been a long time going, getting rid of my journals. From 1978 through 1983 I wrote daily in a journal. While I am confident that the actual act of writing has born fruit, none of that fruit could be found in the journals. I spent a few moments scrolling through those pages, and saw a medley of sophomoric angst suffused with precocious pretensions. The joy in my days were measured, by and large, by how nice my girlfriend was that day. Well, there was some ideological hoo-haw as well. I found it interesting to note that my sixteen year old self, while willing to maintain a friendship, was nonetheless roundly disappointed that one of my peers was a fideist with the respect to Scripture. What I like least about the me of that time is what I liked least back then. That is, in all my dreaming and aspiration, there was not a word about my children. What I like most about the me now is what I like most about my life now, my family. God, as is His wont, hasn’t fulfilled my dreams. He has instead expanded my vision. [comments] |
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Thursday, March 03, 2005 posted by R.C. 9:24 PM link |
Some of My Best Friends E. Michael Jones, one of my favorite writers, has an article in the latest issue of Chronicles, one of my favorite magazines. Better still, the theme of the issue is The Abolition of Man, which just happens to be the title to one of my favorite books. That book was written by C.S. Lewis, one of my favorite men to have ever walked the planet. He, of course, was profoundly influenced by G.K. Chesterton, another of my favorite men and authors. Now here’s the weird thing. C.S. Lewis, in Mere Christianity, goes to great pains to draw his circle wide enough to include Roman Catholicism. G.K. Chesterton, E. Michael Jones, and Thomas Fleming, the esteemed editor of Chronicles magazine, all are or were members in good standing in the Roman Catholic church. And we haven’t even gotten to Dorothy Sayers. Yet I am reputed to be narrow, bigoted, and sectarian, all because I believe that Rome is an apostate church which preaches a false gospel. Why can I appreciate so much my friends on the other side of the Reformational aisle? I don’t like them because of their posture toward Rome, but because of the wisdom and art that God has given them. God’s grace isn’t constrained to flow only in those places where His gospel is rightly proclaimed. Chesterton was an abysmal armchair theologian, whose insight we could feast on for centuries. Lewis understood the devil more than God, but understood man better than both. And even Thomas Fleming, liberal scholar that he is, is enough of a theological amateur that he has actually allowed me twice to write for his magazine. God has gifted these men, and through them has gifted me. I need not look these gifts in the mouth. That they are gifts, on the other hand, won’t undo the anathemas of Trent. [comments] |