I believe in Truth, with a capital "T." Universal, undeniable, eternal Truth. Augustine of Carthage believed in Truth, too, and he proved its existence with math. Not the approach I would have taken, but it served his purpose. Basically, he said that in an equation such as 7+3=10, we all know the answer to be true, it has always been true, and it always will be true. We can not change it, no matter how sharp our faculty for reason or how ardently we claim not to believe it.
Truth does not require belief, or anything beyond its own existence, to be Truth; its existence is intrinsic to its nature and in it are contained all knowledge, reason and sense of morality. There must be a being which embodies universal, undeniable and eternal Truth, since existence, or being, is part of Truth's nature, and this being is no other but God. When one discovers Truth, one discovers God.
C. S. Lewis was an atheist for decades, arguing that if a good and all-powerful God existed, He would not allow evil to exist. But then he saw the hole in the argument: if there is no God who is Truth, how are we able to recognize evil, the lie, to discern right from wrong? There must be a Truth, a moral absolute, a God who created us and instilled us with this knowledge.
Without Truth, the universe, and everything in it, would not exist. There would be no rationality or order or reason or morality. There would be nothing, what the Greeks called Chaos. Since this Truth is so vital to our very existence, it is natural for us to want to know it, to discover it and understand it, and since the dawn of time humans have strived to do just that.
The Greeks, like Augustine, employed mathematics, pure reason. The universality of numbers suggests the existence of something higher than human reason, and the Greeks developed philosophy for the purpose of finding out what that was, of discovering Truth. Philosophy, which means "love of wisdom," was born out of reason, and gaining wisdom from the search for Truth was thought to be the highest aspiration.
The ancient Hebrews approached the search differently. They believed that only by following the Law would they attain Truth. By adhering to the Law and believing in its Maker (the source of Truth) they fulfilled their purpose.
The Greeks were people of reason; the Jews, of faith. In early Christianity these two approaches to Truth caused misunderstandings, which lead to tension and disagreement between Jews and Gentiles, "for Jews demand signs and Greeks desire wisdom" (1st Corinthians 1:22).
Traditionally, Christianity has upheld the Jewish side of the debate, since, after all, Jesus was a Jew, and tended to reject reason as incompatible with the faith required for salvation. But Clement of Alexandria, a second century Christian writer, claimed that Greek philosophy, like Jewish Law, was a "schoolmaster," or preparation for the Truth of Christ: "for philosophy itself did once justify the Greeks." And indeed, the Greek philosophers did reason their way to monotheistic belief centuries before Judaism ever spread much beyond the Jordan River Valley, when all other cultures in the world, with the exception of Egypt for a few years, had always been polytheistic. Their reason lead them to God, though they did not know it.
While the Jews awaited the fulfillment of the Law, the key to their faith, the Greeks sought and found the answer to their philosophy, but didn't recognize it until Jesus came. He came to fulfill the Law and justify by faith, but also to be the Answer to all questions asked by reason. Jesus is the Messiah of the Jews and the Christ of the Greeks. He is the author of both faith and reason. He is Truth.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Thursday, October 18, 2007
How to Have Fun in a Department Store Without Spending Any Money
Have you ever had the urge to go shopping, but were completely broke, or just didn't want to spend any money? If you're male, I probably lost you at the word "shopping." But if you're female, you probably know exactly what I mean. The next time you get the itch, don't fight it! Grab a friend or two, get to a department store and have the best shopping trip of your life without spending a dime!Pick your store. This first step is very important, as it will determine the nature and degree of your merriment. A store like Barney's or Neiman Marcus is not going to be very tolerant of any loud or attention-grabbing antics. For that you want somewhere like Kmart or Wal-Mart. But if outrageous pranks aren't your style, go ahead, go for a fancy place. They have escalators! Which brings us to...
Ride the Escalators. In the fancier stores, you have to be a little more discreet, but this is an easy thing to do discreetly. Start by going as far up as you can, and when you get to the top floor, walk around a little before going down again. If you're over the age of six, escalators can get old pretty fast unless you make it a little more interesting. There is a scene in the movie Elf in which Will Ferrel's character, who has never seen an escalator before, attempts to ride one several times before, more or less, succeeding by practically doing the splits on it, attracting the attention of a crowd of shoppers in the process. Re-enact this scene for a laugh, or just go up the down escalator.
Try Stuff On. This probably isn't something you would do in the less expensive stores (unless you were actually going to buy something) because it's just not as fun. But in an upscale department store there's nothing more fun than trying stuff on, and you probably won't be tempted to buy anything since the prices can be pretty steep. Everything is fun to try on but the best things are jewelry, shoes, and wedding gowns. Jewelry goes without saying, and shoes are a natural mood lifter; there's nothing more confidence-boosting than slipping into a fierce pair of heels and strutting around the shoe department for a few minutes. And wedding gowns... well, every girl knows. Although, if you're not actually engaged and you want to try on wedding gowns, it might be a good idea to wear a fake engagement ring in case the fitting room attendant is on a power trip and won't let you try on any wedding gowns unless you "prove" that you're "really getting married." Gosh.
Get Your Make-up Done. A lot of department stores with make-up counters will give you a free make-up makeover. The attendant will even give you tips on what kinds of products to use. They do usually expect you to buy something, but just say something like, "I think I'll browse a little," and then when they move on to another customer, just quietly slip away.
Ask for a Non-existent Product. The key to making this work is to ask for something that sounds like it could be real product. It makes it even better if you make up something really vague, that sounds like it could be one of several different kinds of things. If you're short on ideas, try this: take any word from the first list below and pair it with any word from the second list and there you have it!
List 1:
welcome
plushbutterfly
life-size
jumbo
squishy
hippo
holiday
life-size
jumbo
squishy
hippo
holiday
List 2:
covers
headbands
bears
vans
puppets
brushes
glasses
pants
Of course, what makes this even funnier is you make up something that turns out to be a real product. If this happens, and the store employee shows you where it is, say that's not what you're looking for and make up a description of something completely different. The hardest part will be keeping a straight face.
Make a Documentary. This of course requires a video camera and at least two people. You can really make a documentary about anything you want. It doesn't have to have anything to do with the store you're in, although that can make for some interesting material. Or you can just film your shopping trip or follow a complete stranger around the store with the camera, secretly, of course. Then put it on Youtube.
Dodge Security. The store security, if they're doing their job, will eventually catch on that you're not there to buy anything, which is, after all, the intended purpose of stores. So you may need to do a few evasive maneuvers to throw them off your scent. Try taking something into the fitting room, not a wedding gown, but something that an average person on an average day might actually buy. Or talk to a store employee. What you talk about doesn't really matter so long as it looks like you're asking them a legitimate question. The security guy will be satisfied that you're a real customer and leave you alone. Then you can return to your merriment.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Street of Heroes
This post is not about the Heroes season premiere that aired last night, although it did raise some fascinating questions. (Like, what's Maya's power? Does Alejandro have a power too? Are they really brother and sister? What's up with that West kid? Is he a creepy stalker guy or does he just really like Claire? Because the whole hovering-outside-her-window thing would have been so much better if he had been holding a boom box that was playing "In Your Eyes." And why was Jess from Gilmore Girls [that is his full name, by the way] only in the last 2 minutes?)
No, I'm not going to write about that. I'm going to write about an idea that I had recently. Actually a few ideas. They're all for TV shows. I thought that with all the success of the Star Trek spin-offs (Next Generation, Deep Space Nine, Voyager, Enterprise. Not that I watch any of them... okay, fine, I watch Enterprise, but only to make fun of the theme song.) I would create one of my own and call it Star Trek: Miami. It takes place in the present day and it's about a group of retired NASA employees. Good, huh?
Another idea I had was for a show called Street of Heroes, hence the title of this post. That's the name of the street that the Tahoma National Cemetery is located on, and I was passing it one day and I thought, "Hey, wouldn't that be a cool title for a TV show?" So then I had to think of what the show would be about, and I think I came up with something really good.
So there's this fictional city, kind of an Anytown, USA type of place, in which the police department, the fire department and the hospital are all located on the same street, the "Street of Heroes." (When I told my brother about this idea, he said the courthouse should be on the street, too, but, come on, lawyers aren't heroes.) So the main characters would be a doctor, a cop and a firefighter. People love cops and doctors on TV, and they love firefighters on calenders, so this show would be great.
I also thought of having a coffee shop on the same street, where a lot of the show would take place. The cops would go there for donuts all the time and the doctors would go there for triple shots before their 36 hour shifts and one of the firefighters would go there all the time because he's in love with the barista. It could add a lot of atmosphere.
And this is the best part. I don't know if this would work exactly, but it would be really cool. The city where it takes place would be Gotham City! The hospital would be Wayne Memorial, and of course Gotham PD. So Batman would be in it sometimes but he wouldn't be the main character. And it would be really funny if the characters had issues like how silly it feels to write the word "Batman" in police reports. Plus it would combine some really popular TV genres right now: cop/doctor and comic book.
If I pitched this to a network (Street of Heroes [which I might change to Gotham: Street of Heroes], not Star Trek: Miami), I think I could have a pretty good chance of getting a pilot. Of course I'd have to write it, though. But that wouldn't be so bad. It will probably never happen, but if someone else gets an idea for a cop-doctor-firefighter-coffee shop-superhero drama and it gets made into a successful TV series, just remember: it was my idea first.
So was Star Trek: Miami.
No, I'm not going to write about that. I'm going to write about an idea that I had recently. Actually a few ideas. They're all for TV shows. I thought that with all the success of the Star Trek spin-offs (Next Generation, Deep Space Nine, Voyager, Enterprise. Not that I watch any of them... okay, fine, I watch Enterprise, but only to make fun of the theme song.) I would create one of my own and call it Star Trek: Miami. It takes place in the present day and it's about a group of retired NASA employees. Good, huh?
Another idea I had was for a show called Street of Heroes, hence the title of this post. That's the name of the street that the Tahoma National Cemetery is located on, and I was passing it one day and I thought, "Hey, wouldn't that be a cool title for a TV show?" So then I had to think of what the show would be about, and I think I came up with something really good.
So there's this fictional city, kind of an Anytown, USA type of place, in which the police department, the fire department and the hospital are all located on the same street, the "Street of Heroes." (When I told my brother about this idea, he said the courthouse should be on the street, too, but, come on, lawyers aren't heroes.) So the main characters would be a doctor, a cop and a firefighter. People love cops and doctors on TV, and they love firefighters on calenders, so this show would be great.
I also thought of having a coffee shop on the same street, where a lot of the show would take place. The cops would go there for donuts all the time and the doctors would go there for triple shots before their 36 hour shifts and one of the firefighters would go there all the time because he's in love with the barista. It could add a lot of atmosphere.
And this is the best part. I don't know if this would work exactly, but it would be really cool. The city where it takes place would be Gotham City! The hospital would be Wayne Memorial, and of course Gotham PD. So Batman would be in it sometimes but he wouldn't be the main character. And it would be really funny if the characters had issues like how silly it feels to write the word "Batman" in police reports. Plus it would combine some really popular TV genres right now: cop/doctor and comic book.
If I pitched this to a network (Street of Heroes [which I might change to Gotham: Street of Heroes], not Star Trek: Miami), I think I could have a pretty good chance of getting a pilot. Of course I'd have to write it, though. But that wouldn't be so bad. It will probably never happen, but if someone else gets an idea for a cop-doctor-firefighter-coffee shop-superhero drama and it gets made into a successful TV series, just remember: it was my idea first.
So was Star Trek: Miami.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Jane Austen is My Girl Crush
Jane Austen is getting a lot of press these days. The Focus Features adaptation of Pride & Prejudice was released a couple of years ago, and now there is a new Austen biopic titled Becoming Jane. In the past month I've read articles in Vogue, Elle, Marie Claire and even Newsweek about the film and Austen's life and work. Not to say that she's not deserving, but I have to wonder, why all this attention for an author who lived 200 years ago, whose own work wasn't even attributed to her name during her lifetime?
I first caught the Austen bug about five years ago. I was fifteen and sick of Shakespeare (I'd had to read Macbeth in 8th grade, then Romeo and Juliet and Julius Caesar freshman year, then Hamlet as a sophomore; I've since discovered his comedies.) when a friend suggested I try P&P. I checked out the only copy in my school's library and read the whole thing from cover to cover in one sitting. My Austen appetite was awakened. Next I read Emma, then Northanger Abbey (still my favorite), then Persuasion, Mansfield Park and finally Sense and Sensibility.
Like all of Austen's devoted fans, I was disappointed that there weren't more. I mean, seriously, the woman lived for more than forty years and all she could crank out were six measly novels? So, I did what many readers have done after reaching the end of the Austen canon: I turned to the Brontes. It just wasn't the same, though. Jane Eyre had potential, but she had no sense of humor. So not Lizzy Bennet.
This was in 2002-3, between the Austen-mania of the mid-90's and the current re-discovery of (how come Austen doesn't have a cool nickname like "the Bard"?)'s work. The world was in an Austen famine. I was glad to discover the then-eight-year-old films of S&S, Emma, and Persuasion, and, of course, the BBC/A&E miniseries of P&P. But it just wasn't enough. (Northanger Abbey, my favorite Austen novel, maybe even my favorite novel, has yet to be translated into a satisfying theatrical release, though I've read that the BBC's recent made-for -TV version, which will air on Masterpiece Theatre in January of 2008, is good, and Wishbone did an entertaining adaptation in a 25-minute episode).
What is it about Austen that keeps us so fascinated? All her novels have the same plot, and a very simple, ordinary plot at that. Her world seems so small, a world in which girls must either marry or starve and all the men are either rakes, idiots, or that rare, perfect hero. No car chases, no explosions, but plenty of the difficulty of remembering complicated dance steps while simultaneously thinking of witty conversation. These novels are all talking and dancing and walking. And riding in carriages sometimes, and occasionally eating. But somehow, they draw you in, and they have for nearly 200 years.
Of all the elements of Austen's novels for which I could build up a sizable argument for being the cause of her appeal (the aforementioned witty conversation; the dancing, if you're into that; the social commentary; the sparkling manners), the one that stands out most noticeably is her characters. Who hasn't rooted for the sarcastic-but-lovable Lizzy Bennet, the matchmaking Emma Woodhouse, or drama queen Marianne Dashwood? The supporting characters, both the villains and the eccentric foils, realistically flesh out the stories while adding just a hint of escapism.
And maybe that is the secret. Realistic escapism, if that's not an oxymoron. Austen had the ability to show the world as it was, only better and more interesting. To create characters and situations that are completely relatable, even today. We've all butted heads with a Caroline Bingley or secretly wanted to strangle a Mary Crawford. And no girl can deny that, at some point in her life, she has fantasized about marrying (or at least going to the movies with) Captain Wentworth or Henry Tilney. Because though the situations and characters in Austen's novels are strikingly similar to something you find in real life, the endings are always of the fairy-tale (Disney, not the Grimm brothers) variety.
It is the perfect combination of realism and fantasy, of wit and wisdom, of slight intrigue and traditional manners that give Austen's works their staggering genius. They have lasted for nearly 200 years and are likely to last twice as long again, and to continue to make glad the heart of womanhood.
I first caught the Austen bug about five years ago. I was fifteen and sick of Shakespeare (I'd had to read Macbeth in 8th grade, then Romeo and Juliet and Julius Caesar freshman year, then Hamlet as a sophomore; I've since discovered his comedies.) when a friend suggested I try P&P. I checked out the only copy in my school's library and read the whole thing from cover to cover in one sitting. My Austen appetite was awakened. Next I read Emma, then Northanger Abbey (still my favorite), then Persuasion, Mansfield Park and finally Sense and Sensibility.
Like all of Austen's devoted fans, I was disappointed that there weren't more. I mean, seriously, the woman lived for more than forty years and all she could crank out were six measly novels? So, I did what many readers have done after reaching the end of the Austen canon: I turned to the Brontes. It just wasn't the same, though. Jane Eyre had potential, but she had no sense of humor. So not Lizzy Bennet.
This was in 2002-3, between the Austen-mania of the mid-90's and the current re-discovery of (how come Austen doesn't have a cool nickname like "the Bard"?)'s work. The world was in an Austen famine. I was glad to discover the then-eight-year-old films of S&S, Emma, and Persuasion, and, of course, the BBC/A&E miniseries of P&P. But it just wasn't enough. (Northanger Abbey, my favorite Austen novel, maybe even my favorite novel, has yet to be translated into a satisfying theatrical release, though I've read that the BBC's recent made-for -TV version, which will air on Masterpiece Theatre in January of 2008, is good, and Wishbone did an entertaining adaptation in a 25-minute episode).
What is it about Austen that keeps us so fascinated? All her novels have the same plot, and a very simple, ordinary plot at that. Her world seems so small, a world in which girls must either marry or starve and all the men are either rakes, idiots, or that rare, perfect hero. No car chases, no explosions, but plenty of the difficulty of remembering complicated dance steps while simultaneously thinking of witty conversation. These novels are all talking and dancing and walking. And riding in carriages sometimes, and occasionally eating. But somehow, they draw you in, and they have for nearly 200 years.
Of all the elements of Austen's novels for which I could build up a sizable argument for being the cause of her appeal (the aforementioned witty conversation; the dancing, if you're into that; the social commentary; the sparkling manners), the one that stands out most noticeably is her characters. Who hasn't rooted for the sarcastic-but-lovable Lizzy Bennet, the matchmaking Emma Woodhouse, or drama queen Marianne Dashwood? The supporting characters, both the villains and the eccentric foils, realistically flesh out the stories while adding just a hint of escapism.
And maybe that is the secret. Realistic escapism, if that's not an oxymoron. Austen had the ability to show the world as it was, only better and more interesting. To create characters and situations that are completely relatable, even today. We've all butted heads with a Caroline Bingley or secretly wanted to strangle a Mary Crawford. And no girl can deny that, at some point in her life, she has fantasized about marrying (or at least going to the movies with) Captain Wentworth or Henry Tilney. Because though the situations and characters in Austen's novels are strikingly similar to something you find in real life, the endings are always of the fairy-tale (Disney, not the Grimm brothers) variety.
It is the perfect combination of realism and fantasy, of wit and wisdom, of slight intrigue and traditional manners that give Austen's works their staggering genius. They have lasted for nearly 200 years and are likely to last twice as long again, and to continue to make glad the heart of womanhood.
Friday, May 11, 2007
What to do in a horror movie
If you should ever find yourself in a horror movie, these are a few rules to follow that will help ensure your survival. Notice how I said "help ensure." If you are a character in a horror movie who is destined to die, like a promiscuous teenager or a lonely old lady, there's nothing you can do to stop it. Sorry.
1. Don't ever think that it's safe. It's most likely very unsafe.
2. Never find the perfect house. The perfect house is haunted. Always.
3. If you're driving on the freeway, don't take any "short-cuts," no matter what the guy at the gas station said. Also, don't pick up any hitchhikers.
4. If there's a little kid telling you what to do, listen! The kid always knows.
5. That person limping toward you with a crazed look in their eyes and blood dripping down their chin does not want medical attention. They want to eat your brain. Run.
6. If you find yourself in a small town that has a secret, leave immediately.
7. To find out how to avoid disaster, ask the town outcast/ geeky loner. The charismatic cop/ military officer has no idea what he's talking about.
8. Abandoned warehouses/ hospitals/ museums/ schools/ libraries/ mansions/ cabins in the woods/ military bases/ hotels/ churches are abandoned for a reason. You don't want to find out what that reason is.
9. If you are the comic relief/ protagonist's best friend, you will die. There's no avoiding it. You have a slightly better chance of survival if you are the protagonist's love interest (as long as you never say, "I'll be right back"), but don't count on it.
10. Dancing only scares zombies away in Michael Jackson videos. If you are in a Michael Jackson video, dance your heart out. If not, you'd better have a baseball bat. Hit the zombies in the head with it.
I have to admit, I had help coming up with these. My brother Keith, whose blog I have linked, aided me in their creation. Numbers 9 and 10 are totally my own, though. Also, I don't watch a lot of horror movies, mostly because there are so many stupid ones out there and you can never tell which few will be good, so this list may be incomplete. It is open for suggestions.
1. Don't ever think that it's safe. It's most likely very unsafe.
2. Never find the perfect house. The perfect house is haunted. Always.
3. If you're driving on the freeway, don't take any "short-cuts," no matter what the guy at the gas station said. Also, don't pick up any hitchhikers.
4. If there's a little kid telling you what to do, listen! The kid always knows.
5. That person limping toward you with a crazed look in their eyes and blood dripping down their chin does not want medical attention. They want to eat your brain. Run.
6. If you find yourself in a small town that has a secret, leave immediately.
7. To find out how to avoid disaster, ask the town outcast/ geeky loner. The charismatic cop/ military officer has no idea what he's talking about.
8. Abandoned warehouses/ hospitals/ museums/ schools/ libraries/ mansions/ cabins in the woods/ military bases/ hotels/ churches are abandoned for a reason. You don't want to find out what that reason is.
9. If you are the comic relief/ protagonist's best friend, you will die. There's no avoiding it. You have a slightly better chance of survival if you are the protagonist's love interest (as long as you never say, "I'll be right back"), but don't count on it.
10. Dancing only scares zombies away in Michael Jackson videos. If you are in a Michael Jackson video, dance your heart out. If not, you'd better have a baseball bat. Hit the zombies in the head with it.
I have to admit, I had help coming up with these. My brother Keith, whose blog I have linked, aided me in their creation. Numbers 9 and 10 are totally my own, though. Also, I don't watch a lot of horror movies, mostly because there are so many stupid ones out there and you can never tell which few will be good, so this list may be incomplete. It is open for suggestions.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
What Would Cowper Do?
William Cowper was an 18th century Calvinist poet, which is, surprisingly, not an oxymoron. (That's him on the right; what a fox, huh?) Calvinists believe in predestination, which I know all of my readers know, since both of you are very well-educated. They essentially believe in fate, that our final destination in the afterlife is already decided, has been decided since long before our births, and there's nothing we can do to change it. It must be this way, since God is all-knowing, all-powerful; He controls the future. Free will is an illusion, in a Calvinist view. We can not ultimately control our own lives, and it is pointless to try, since nothing we do on this earth will affect where we spend eternity.
William Cowper believed that he was predestined for Hell. He was convinced in his soul that he would spend eternity separated, alienated, completely cut-off from God. If such a conviction lodged itself in my heart I really don't think I could go on living. Maybe I would stay physically alive, put off the inevitable as long as possible, but I would have no hope. I would curse God for creating me and giving me a small glimpse of His glory, only to snatch it away with no possibility of restoration, no promise of its fulfillment in me. For creating me only to destroy me.
But that's not what William Cowper did. Instead he wrote this:
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence,
He hides a smiling face...
Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan His work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.
How could a man so persuaded of his own eternal damnation be so trusting, so favorable toward the very God who, he believed, was responsible for his fate? His answer was simple: we can not understand the ways of God, who is Creator, and therefore Master, of the universe. All things were created for His glory, for His purposes, and He will use them as such. He has the "right," to put it into Democratic-minded American terms. Our lives are not our own and our eternal fates are not our own; they are God's, and He will do with them as He pleases.
Cowper (and by default, Calvin) had a point. God is all-powerful, and He does not have to give us free will. But I would ask them both this question: if God wanted to decide for us where we would spend eternity, why did He pay such a high price for our souls? Nothing is impossible for Him. He didn't have to die. He could have "over-ridden the system," and made it so that all people, no matter their choices in life or opinion of Him, would go to Heaven.
And why didn't He?
He loves us. God wants everyone to come to know Him and love Him. But even more than He desires this, He desires that we choose Him, which is why He will not force our destiny upon us. He can not ravish; He can only woo. If we had no choice but to love Him, we would not love Him in the truest sense. If we were going to end up in Heaven, no matter what we did or what choices we made, there would be no reward in it. And God's glory would not be fulfilled, since it would, in a sense, be only self-love. But God is perfect, and therefore self-less, and the most selfless thing that a perfect Being could do would be to create other beings to love Him of their own free will.
Heaven is our, everyone's, destiny, but it is not our destination unless we choose it. A better term than predestination would be predestiny.
If William Cowper had not believed that he was predestined for Hell, how would his life have been changed? If he had known that his choice to follow and understand God would lead him to an eternity with the Love of his life, would he still have written about frowning Providence and blind unbelief? Or would his pen have turned to other subjects? We may never know, but maybe I can ask him in Heaven.
William Cowper believed that he was predestined for Hell. He was convinced in his soul that he would spend eternity separated, alienated, completely cut-off from God. If such a conviction lodged itself in my heart I really don't think I could go on living. Maybe I would stay physically alive, put off the inevitable as long as possible, but I would have no hope. I would curse God for creating me and giving me a small glimpse of His glory, only to snatch it away with no possibility of restoration, no promise of its fulfillment in me. For creating me only to destroy me.
But that's not what William Cowper did. Instead he wrote this:
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,
But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence,
He hides a smiling face...
Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan His work in vain;
God is His own interpreter,
And He will make it plain.
How could a man so persuaded of his own eternal damnation be so trusting, so favorable toward the very God who, he believed, was responsible for his fate? His answer was simple: we can not understand the ways of God, who is Creator, and therefore Master, of the universe. All things were created for His glory, for His purposes, and He will use them as such. He has the "right," to put it into Democratic-minded American terms. Our lives are not our own and our eternal fates are not our own; they are God's, and He will do with them as He pleases.
Cowper (and by default, Calvin) had a point. God is all-powerful, and He does not have to give us free will. But I would ask them both this question: if God wanted to decide for us where we would spend eternity, why did He pay such a high price for our souls? Nothing is impossible for Him. He didn't have to die. He could have "over-ridden the system," and made it so that all people, no matter their choices in life or opinion of Him, would go to Heaven.
And why didn't He?
He loves us. God wants everyone to come to know Him and love Him. But even more than He desires this, He desires that we choose Him, which is why He will not force our destiny upon us. He can not ravish; He can only woo. If we had no choice but to love Him, we would not love Him in the truest sense. If we were going to end up in Heaven, no matter what we did or what choices we made, there would be no reward in it. And God's glory would not be fulfilled, since it would, in a sense, be only self-love. But God is perfect, and therefore self-less, and the most selfless thing that a perfect Being could do would be to create other beings to love Him of their own free will.
Heaven is our, everyone's, destiny, but it is not our destination unless we choose it. A better term than predestination would be predestiny.
If William Cowper had not believed that he was predestined for Hell, how would his life have been changed? If he had known that his choice to follow and understand God would lead him to an eternity with the Love of his life, would he still have written about frowning Providence and blind unbelief? Or would his pen have turned to other subjects? We may never know, but maybe I can ask him in Heaven.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
What? An Action Movie with Good Acting?
I have a very interesting system for rating the quality of movies. I have eight categories of criteria, each with a 5-point grading system, for a possible total score of 40. The criteria are plot; dialogue; characters; acting; music; scenery and costumes; humor; and cute boys. Bonus points can be assigned for good special effects and/ or action sequences, but many movies with these are severely lacking in plot, dialogue, characters and acting (although they usually have cute boys), which are more important, so they are not required. Here is a list of movies that score above 30 on my ranking system, in alphabetical order:
About a Boy (The novel is good, too.)
Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure
The Bourne Identity (What? An action movie with good acting?)
The Brothers Grimm (Matt Damon and Heath Ledger in the same movie? In boots? With accents?)
Casablanca (Actually, not really, but it's on every other movie list, so I put it on here just for fun. I've actually never seen the whole thing. I always fall asleep half-way through.)
A Christmas Story
Clueless *Best Jane Austen modernization
Elf
Elizabethtown
Gone With the Wind ("After all, tomorrow is another day!")
A Knight's Tale
Little Women
Napoleon Dynamite *Winner of the Rhonda Watts "Huh?" Award
Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl
Pride and Prejudice *Best musical score ever!
The Princess Bride
Roman Holiday
School of Rock
Scotland PA *Best Shakespeare modernization
Shaun of the Dead (Any movie that is self-described as, "a smash hit romantic comedy... with zombies," has to be good!)
Sixteen Candles ("What's cookin' hot stuff?")
Sliding Doors *Best sci-fi chick-flick (Gwenyth Paltrow in two alternate realities?)
Some Like It Hot *Best cross-dressing movie
Stuck On You *Best conjoined twins movie
The Taming of the Shrew
Vanity Fair (I have to admit, I kind of had a girl-crush on Reese Witherspoon after seeing this. She's such a talented actress that you hate her and love her at the same time.)
The Village *Best psychological thriller
Young Frankenstein *Best parody of a Mary Shelley novel
Zoolander *Best movie about male models
So that's my list. There are lots of other movies that I love that didn't make it on the list because this is just based on my ranking system. Maybe there's a movie on here you haven't seen before that you want to go rent now. So stop reading this and go!
About a Boy (The novel is good, too.)
Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure
The Bourne Identity (What? An action movie with good acting?)
The Brothers Grimm (Matt Damon and Heath Ledger in the same movie? In boots? With accents?)
Casablanca (Actually, not really, but it's on every other movie list, so I put it on here just for fun. I've actually never seen the whole thing. I always fall asleep half-way through.)
A Christmas Story
Clueless *Best Jane Austen modernization
Elf
Elizabethtown
Gone With the Wind ("After all, tomorrow is another day!")
A Knight's Tale
Little Women
Napoleon Dynamite *Winner of the Rhonda Watts "Huh?" Award
Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl
Pride and Prejudice *Best musical score ever!
The Princess Bride
Roman Holiday
School of Rock
Scotland PA *Best Shakespeare modernization
Shaun of the Dead (Any movie that is self-described as, "a smash hit romantic comedy... with zombies," has to be good!)
Sixteen Candles ("What's cookin' hot stuff?")
Sliding Doors *Best sci-fi chick-flick (Gwenyth Paltrow in two alternate realities?)
Some Like It Hot *Best cross-dressing movie
Stuck On You *Best conjoined twins movie
The Taming of the Shrew
Vanity Fair (I have to admit, I kind of had a girl-crush on Reese Witherspoon after seeing this. She's such a talented actress that you hate her and love her at the same time.)
The Village *Best psychological thriller
Young Frankenstein *Best parody of a Mary Shelley novel
Zoolander *Best movie about male models
So that's my list. There are lots of other movies that I love that didn't make it on the list because this is just based on my ranking system. Maybe there's a movie on here you haven't seen before that you want to go rent now. So stop reading this and go!
Sunday, January 21, 2007
What I Wish I Could Tell You
Recently this guy named Bruce N. Shortt released this book titled The Harsh Truth About Public Schools. It's kind of a catchy title, so I read the first chapter. Now, I'll be the first to tell you, public schools are definitely not perfect. They are not healthy places. But it seems to me that this should not be a reason to shun them or look down on us public school-educated people. It should be a reason to have compassion for them.
Advocates of homeschooling have based their views on the undeniable presence of evil in public schools. Drugs, violence, sex, secular humanist propaganda, moral ambiguity, they're all there. I know, I've observed it first-hand. But instead of focusing on the evils of public schools and alienating 99% of the population, shouldn't we be reaching out to kids in public schools with the message of Jesus? Kids who, if not for other public school kids who are Christians, would never hear the Truth of the Gospel?
Many worry that Christian kids will be sucked in to the secular world if they are exposed to public schooling, but that is why parents must give their kids a firm foundation in the Faith. A child's first and most deeply rooted educational experience comes from their parents and stays with them for the rest of their lives. If this experience is based on the Word of God and if parents continue to instill Christian values in their children as they go through school, kids will know right from wrong, and be able to choose the right, even if the world is against them. Their greatest influence should come not from the world around them but from the One who lives inside of them.
Greater is He who is in me than he that is in the world.
Parents cannot make their kids be Christians. Kids must choose it for themselves. But if all they ever see or know is a "safe" little bubble their parents created for them, it's not a real decision. If Adam and Eve hadn't had the choice to sin, they wouldn't have sinned, but their obedience would have no meaning. Forced obedience is not true obedience, and it is not fulfilling.
So, what do we do about the harsh truth of public schools? The answer is not taking our Christian kids out of public schools. Kids in public schools need to see Christian kids living out their relationship with God now more than ever. How else will they learn the Truth in such a worldly place? The answer is to equip our Christian kids with the ability to impact their public schools for Christ.
Advocates of homeschooling have based their views on the undeniable presence of evil in public schools. Drugs, violence, sex, secular humanist propaganda, moral ambiguity, they're all there. I know, I've observed it first-hand. But instead of focusing on the evils of public schools and alienating 99% of the population, shouldn't we be reaching out to kids in public schools with the message of Jesus? Kids who, if not for other public school kids who are Christians, would never hear the Truth of the Gospel?
Many worry that Christian kids will be sucked in to the secular world if they are exposed to public schooling, but that is why parents must give their kids a firm foundation in the Faith. A child's first and most deeply rooted educational experience comes from their parents and stays with them for the rest of their lives. If this experience is based on the Word of God and if parents continue to instill Christian values in their children as they go through school, kids will know right from wrong, and be able to choose the right, even if the world is against them. Their greatest influence should come not from the world around them but from the One who lives inside of them.
Greater is He who is in me than he that is in the world.
Parents cannot make their kids be Christians. Kids must choose it for themselves. But if all they ever see or know is a "safe" little bubble their parents created for them, it's not a real decision. If Adam and Eve hadn't had the choice to sin, they wouldn't have sinned, but their obedience would have no meaning. Forced obedience is not true obedience, and it is not fulfilling.
So, what do we do about the harsh truth of public schools? The answer is not taking our Christian kids out of public schools. Kids in public schools need to see Christian kids living out their relationship with God now more than ever. How else will they learn the Truth in such a worldly place? The answer is to equip our Christian kids with the ability to impact their public schools for Christ.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
Thoughts on Falling Snow
I wanted to write a poem about snow
But the words would float in my head like so
And when they would settle, only melted away
And now I'm left with nothing to say
Words to a poem I've not written but sought
Falling in some semblance of intelligible thought
Thought without words, words without thought
Those are the two ways of writing a poem,
--whether you use words or not
And as a snowflake falls as a whisper
To melt upon touching the ground
My words have dissembled, and I find that there
Is no worthy thought to be found
But the words would float in my head like so
And when they would settle, only melted away
And now I'm left with nothing to say
Words to a poem I've not written but sought
Falling in some semblance of intelligible thought
Thought without words, words without thought
Those are the two ways of writing a poem,
--whether you use words or not
And as a snowflake falls as a whisper
To melt upon touching the ground
My words have dissembled, and I find that there
Is no worthy thought to be found
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
What I Want for Christmas
What I want for Christmas is a Red Ryder BB gun with a compass and a stock and this thing which tells time. They're very good for Christmas. I don't think a football is a very good Christmas present. Besides that, here are some other things I wouldn't mind finding under my tree:
DVD's
Gilmore Girls- any season
Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure
Sixteen Candles
Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest
White Christmas
Sliding Doors
Lady in the Water
Roman Holiday
Braveheart
CD's
The Beautiful Sessions- Bethany Dillon
Unexpected Gifts- Various Artists
Get Lifted- John Legend
Strange and Beautiful- Aqualung
Nothing is Sound- Switchfoot
Gift Cards
Old Navy
Kohl's
Target
Bath and Body Works
Payless
Borders
Barnes and Noble
Regal
AMC
Hollywood
Random
laptop
Low top Converse All-Stars- red or pink; men's size 6
2007 Dodge Charger- also red or pink
DVD's
Gilmore Girls- any season
Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure
Sixteen Candles
Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest
White Christmas
Sliding Doors
Lady in the Water
Roman Holiday
Braveheart
CD's
The Beautiful Sessions- Bethany Dillon
Unexpected Gifts- Various Artists
Get Lifted- John Legend
Strange and Beautiful- Aqualung
Nothing is Sound- Switchfoot
Gift Cards
Old Navy
Kohl's
Target
Bath and Body Works
Payless
Borders
Barnes and Noble
Regal
AMC
Hollywood
Random
laptop
Low top Converse All-Stars- red or pink; men's size 6
2007 Dodge Charger- also red or pink
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
My Mom
When I was little it was easy. "She's my mom," was all I'd say. Everyone knew what that meant, what the title "mom" entailed, at least in my mind. Everyone knew that moms make you macaroni and cheese and tuck you in at bedtime and tell you to settle down when you're being too noisy and they're on the phone. Everyone knew that moms read thick novels, "grown-up books," but will gladly put them aside to read you your favorite story, even though they've read it a thousand times before. And everyone knew that moms gave you hugs, that they would hold you when you were sad, or scared, or sleepy, or silly. Everyone knew that when your head rested under your mom's chin and she spoke to you, you felt rather than heard her voice, as acutely as you felt the soft cotton of a sundress or the rough wool of a turtleneck sweater rubbing against your cheek. I thought everyone knew this, because I did.
Now that I'm older, my mom is no different to me. No different, but somehow deeper, more. More to me because I have become her, in more ways than either of us realize. Her face, her smile, her voice all mirror my own, or do mine mirror hers? (At least I know I'm not adopted.) The same full mouth, the same second toe slightly longer than the first, the same stack of thick novels by our nightstands. Our sky-blue eyes and rounded cheeks make photos of us at the same age inter-changeable. If we stood on either side of you and sang you would hear one voice in stereo. See one face in two places.
And someday, when I have a child pressed to my heart, when I have put aside my thick novel to read to her, or when she is sad, or silly, or scared, and I speak to her, she will feel, rather than hear, the same voice that I did: my mother's, and mine, and, someday, her own.
Now that I'm older, my mom is no different to me. No different, but somehow deeper, more. More to me because I have become her, in more ways than either of us realize. Her face, her smile, her voice all mirror my own, or do mine mirror hers? (At least I know I'm not adopted.) The same full mouth, the same second toe slightly longer than the first, the same stack of thick novels by our nightstands. Our sky-blue eyes and rounded cheeks make photos of us at the same age inter-changeable. If we stood on either side of you and sang you would hear one voice in stereo. See one face in two places.
And someday, when I have a child pressed to my heart, when I have put aside my thick novel to read to her, or when she is sad, or silly, or scared, and I speak to her, she will feel, rather than hear, the same voice that I did: my mother's, and mine, and, someday, her own.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Nebuchadnezzer and a Giraffe
Well, this is different for me. When I blog I usually write it down on paper first, but I'm not this time. This is totally spontaneous. What you, my readers (all 3 of you), are reading right now is completely and totally off the cuff. I'm just wingin' it. Let's see what I come up with.
Do you ever have one of those dreams where you wake up from it and you're just like, "WHAT?" Or the dream just seems so real and you wake up so slowly that it overlaps with waking life, and you find yourself worrying about a problem you had in the dream, like where you're going to find a sweater for your giraffe, while you're in the shower the next morning. Then, while you're brushing your teeth, it slowly dawns on you: giraffes don't wear sweaters.
I think dreams are fascinating. I've always wondered if dreams really do have symbolic meaning, or if they're just a collection of random images and ideas that you've collected throughout the day and that somehow assemble into a coherent, or not-so-coherent, story. Or stories. With subplots and commercial breaks. Even musical numbers.
I think dreams could be symbolic, or at least representative, of our own personalities and lives, because they come from our own minds. If you're really worried about, say, an important exam you have tomorrow, you might dream that you're worried about something else, like where you're going to find a sweater for your giraffe, that is symbolic of the real problem you're facing. I also think it's possible that dreams are just completely random.
I don't dream as much as I used to when I was little. Or, at least, I don't remember as many dreams. I had some pretty crazy dreams between the ages of about six and eleven. Probably the weirdest one, and the scariest one for, like, three years after I had it, was about a gorilla. Two gorillas, actually. They were chasing me around my old church. Well, one was chasing me. He was the bad gorilla. But the other one was the good gorilla, and he was trying to help me get away from the bad gorilla. I don't remember exact details, only that I woke up crying and had to go to the bathroom really bad afterward.
If dreams are symbolic, I wonder what the gorillas symbolize? Probably, like, fear or something...
I also always thought it would be really cool to have prophetic dreams, like King Nebuchadnezzer. I have no idea if I spelled that right. Like the one he had about the statue that got smashed by the rock. Or like John in Revelation. I guess that was more of a vision than a dream. Also, Nebuchadnezzer had the coolest name in the Bible, probably. When I was little I had this book about him called The Braggy King of Babylon. In kindergarten I was the only kid in my class who knew about the Babylonian Empire, and the only kid who could pronounce the name Nebuchadnezzer, even though I couldn't spell it.
Whether or dreams are symbolic or just random, I think they serve a purpose. Dreams give you a sort of alternate reality, a fantasy world of your own mind's making to entertain you while you sleep and give you something to talk about in your Psychology class. Or at a party or whatever. And your sleeping dreams can often inspire your waking dreams, your life dreams. At least they have for me. I want to someday raise gorillas and start a line of sweaters for giraffes.
Do you ever have one of those dreams where you wake up from it and you're just like, "WHAT?" Or the dream just seems so real and you wake up so slowly that it overlaps with waking life, and you find yourself worrying about a problem you had in the dream, like where you're going to find a sweater for your giraffe, while you're in the shower the next morning. Then, while you're brushing your teeth, it slowly dawns on you: giraffes don't wear sweaters.
I think dreams are fascinating. I've always wondered if dreams really do have symbolic meaning, or if they're just a collection of random images and ideas that you've collected throughout the day and that somehow assemble into a coherent, or not-so-coherent, story. Or stories. With subplots and commercial breaks. Even musical numbers.
I think dreams could be symbolic, or at least representative, of our own personalities and lives, because they come from our own minds. If you're really worried about, say, an important exam you have tomorrow, you might dream that you're worried about something else, like where you're going to find a sweater for your giraffe, that is symbolic of the real problem you're facing. I also think it's possible that dreams are just completely random.
I don't dream as much as I used to when I was little. Or, at least, I don't remember as many dreams. I had some pretty crazy dreams between the ages of about six and eleven. Probably the weirdest one, and the scariest one for, like, three years after I had it, was about a gorilla. Two gorillas, actually. They were chasing me around my old church. Well, one was chasing me. He was the bad gorilla. But the other one was the good gorilla, and he was trying to help me get away from the bad gorilla. I don't remember exact details, only that I woke up crying and had to go to the bathroom really bad afterward.
If dreams are symbolic, I wonder what the gorillas symbolize? Probably, like, fear or something...
I also always thought it would be really cool to have prophetic dreams, like King Nebuchadnezzer. I have no idea if I spelled that right. Like the one he had about the statue that got smashed by the rock. Or like John in Revelation. I guess that was more of a vision than a dream. Also, Nebuchadnezzer had the coolest name in the Bible, probably. When I was little I had this book about him called The Braggy King of Babylon. In kindergarten I was the only kid in my class who knew about the Babylonian Empire, and the only kid who could pronounce the name Nebuchadnezzer, even though I couldn't spell it.
Whether or dreams are symbolic or just random, I think they serve a purpose. Dreams give you a sort of alternate reality, a fantasy world of your own mind's making to entertain you while you sleep and give you something to talk about in your Psychology class. Or at a party or whatever. And your sleeping dreams can often inspire your waking dreams, your life dreams. At least they have for me. I want to someday raise gorillas and start a line of sweaters for giraffes.
Friday, October 20, 2006
I Hadn't Written a Poem in Awhile
All creatures of the sea and land
Each blade of grass and drop of rain
Formed by the Eternal Hand
Join their praises of Thy Name
The stars in language Man knows not
And every wave of every sea
Each leaf of trees Thine hand hath wrought
Are given to Thy symphony
There is no thing in Heaven or on Earth
That Thou hast not created in Thy love
My life, my death, indeed my very birth
By Thou ordained before e'er spoken of
Though with eyes filled of all Thy pow'rs employ
Thy love for me remains my greatest joy
Each blade of grass and drop of rain
Formed by the Eternal Hand
Join their praises of Thy Name
The stars in language Man knows not
And every wave of every sea
Each leaf of trees Thine hand hath wrought
Are given to Thy symphony
There is no thing in Heaven or on Earth
That Thou hast not created in Thy love
My life, my death, indeed my very birth
By Thou ordained before e'er spoken of
Though with eyes filled of all Thy pow'rs employ
Thy love for me remains my greatest joy
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Why Words Matter
No one writes these days. I mean really writes. E-mails and My Space comments don't count. Sure, authors and reporters write, but that's only for money. No one ever writes anything personal or private, person to person anymore. No one writes letters. They are a lost art. And I think it's because of this that our grammar has gone to pot and no one can spell. Well, I take that back. Most people can spell, if they would just take a little more time, if they would actually care.
Our society and modern technology have made it unnecessary, really, almost impossible, for people to take their time in expressing themselves in writing. With the advent of text messaging, along with its own evolving sets of phrases and abbreviations, messages contain little or no punctuation and an unwritten (no pun intended), though by no means misunderstood, rule that Spelling Does Not Matter.
It wasn't always this way. A long, long time ago, before My Space and the internet, before texting and even before cell phones (can we even imagine such a time?) people who lived far away from their friends and family would have to wait days, even weeks or months, between messages. As a result, they took their time- time that they had more of, somehow, doesn't it seem?- in writing the messages. It was unthinkable to send a letter that contained any but the most minimal of grammar mistakes. If you were an intelligent, literate person your writing reflected it. Your words reflected it.
Words matter because they are our connections to other people, and those connections are what forge our relationships. The written word is one of Man's greatest accomplishments and one of God's greatest gifts. It should be treated with respect, as our words, both written and spoken, are part of how we present ourselves and, in consequence, how much we respect and care for those to whom we address them.
Our society and modern technology have made it unnecessary, really, almost impossible, for people to take their time in expressing themselves in writing. With the advent of text messaging, along with its own evolving sets of phrases and abbreviations, messages contain little or no punctuation and an unwritten (no pun intended), though by no means misunderstood, rule that Spelling Does Not Matter.
It wasn't always this way. A long, long time ago, before My Space and the internet, before texting and even before cell phones (can we even imagine such a time?) people who lived far away from their friends and family would have to wait days, even weeks or months, between messages. As a result, they took their time- time that they had more of, somehow, doesn't it seem?- in writing the messages. It was unthinkable to send a letter that contained any but the most minimal of grammar mistakes. If you were an intelligent, literate person your writing reflected it. Your words reflected it.
Words matter because they are our connections to other people, and those connections are what forge our relationships. The written word is one of Man's greatest accomplishments and one of God's greatest gifts. It should be treated with respect, as our words, both written and spoken, are part of how we present ourselves and, in consequence, how much we respect and care for those to whom we address them.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Surprised By Love
I don't think I've ever doubted that God loves me. Even at my worst, when I was just a total little brat. I guess maybe I could be considered a little over-confident. My mindset was always, "Of course God loves me. Why wouldn't He?" What I've mostly doubted is whether I love Him.
It's interesting that I've been thinking about this lately, because I've been reading C. S. Lewis's autobiography, Surprised By Joy, of which Anne Fremantle said: "Since Augustine's meticulous analysis of what was the light, what the color, what the sound, the smell, the touch, what, indeed, was the good he loved when he loved God, few writers have taken the trouble to distinguish, with such clarity of psychological insight, the nature and degree of attraction, the nature and degrees of satisfaction apprehended by man." I say interesting because, though I haven't read very much Augustine, and my thoughts have been anything but meticulous, clear, or insightful, I, too, even before reading this book, have tried to examine what it is, why it is that I love God. What am I loving when I love Him? Am I really loving Him at all? This is what I came up with.
I love God because I love the mountains. I love Him because I love the sunset and the stars. I love Him because of the way the wind sings as it blows through the trees. I love Him because of flowers and birds and butterflies and smooth shiny stones on the bottom of the ocean floor. I love Him because of the rain that sparkles on a window pane and the quiet blanket of snow that covers a winter night. I love Him because of the mist that envelops the highest mountain, even on the warmest summer day. And music. I can't forget music. Or my family.
I love God because I see Him in the things that I love. I love Him because He loved me enough to give them to me, to show Himself to me in ways that I can understand, even if I don't comprehend. Isaac Newton believed that God is a rational God, that He reveals Himself in the perfect order of the laws of nature. But God is also a passionate God, One that reveals Himself in ways that no law can explain. Like love.
You can't imagine what a relief it was to find that I do love God, to find that everything that I love about His creation, the beauty, the order, and the freedom within that order, the depth and purity and brightness, is really what I love about Him. The God that I love both rationally and passionately is the author of the one thing that defies both reason and passion, that surpasses both faith and hope: love. Love is the weight and the balance; love is the root of the root, the sky of the sky, the wonder that's keeping the stars apart and the breath on my lips.
It is because of His love that I love Him.
It's interesting that I've been thinking about this lately, because I've been reading C. S. Lewis's autobiography, Surprised By Joy, of which Anne Fremantle said: "Since Augustine's meticulous analysis of what was the light, what the color, what the sound, the smell, the touch, what, indeed, was the good he loved when he loved God, few writers have taken the trouble to distinguish, with such clarity of psychological insight, the nature and degree of attraction, the nature and degrees of satisfaction apprehended by man." I say interesting because, though I haven't read very much Augustine, and my thoughts have been anything but meticulous, clear, or insightful, I, too, even before reading this book, have tried to examine what it is, why it is that I love God. What am I loving when I love Him? Am I really loving Him at all? This is what I came up with.
I love God because I love the mountains. I love Him because I love the sunset and the stars. I love Him because of the way the wind sings as it blows through the trees. I love Him because of flowers and birds and butterflies and smooth shiny stones on the bottom of the ocean floor. I love Him because of the rain that sparkles on a window pane and the quiet blanket of snow that covers a winter night. I love Him because of the mist that envelops the highest mountain, even on the warmest summer day. And music. I can't forget music. Or my family.
I love God because I see Him in the things that I love. I love Him because He loved me enough to give them to me, to show Himself to me in ways that I can understand, even if I don't comprehend. Isaac Newton believed that God is a rational God, that He reveals Himself in the perfect order of the laws of nature. But God is also a passionate God, One that reveals Himself in ways that no law can explain. Like love.
You can't imagine what a relief it was to find that I do love God, to find that everything that I love about His creation, the beauty, the order, and the freedom within that order, the depth and purity and brightness, is really what I love about Him. The God that I love both rationally and passionately is the author of the one thing that defies both reason and passion, that surpasses both faith and hope: love. Love is the weight and the balance; love is the root of the root, the sky of the sky, the wonder that's keeping the stars apart and the breath on my lips.
It is because of His love that I love Him.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Men in Tights... and Dresses
Since maybe like the Middle Ages there's been different clothes for boys than for girls, and probably before that. This cannot be denied. Girls (a lot of girls, anyway) like to wear ruffles and sparkles and lace. Boys (most boys, anyway) don't. That's why it's so funny when boys wear girls' clothes.
Think about it. It's all throughout history. Look at movies and TV. The tough-guy male lead wearing a dress and looking awkward or indignant always gets a laugh. Whole plots, even, whole bases for movies' classification in the genre of comedy have hinged on the age-old, fool-proof gag of the male cross dressser.
For evidence I refer to Some Like it Hot, I Was a Male War Bride, Bosom Buddies, Tootsie, the more recent Sorority Boys. What is perhaps an addition to the comedic quality of these examples is that the characters in these films are not drag queens. They are truly trying to disguise themselves, to pass as women. Of course we, the genius audience, can clearly see that they most definitely are not women. But the other characters in the films seem not to see anything out of the ordinary about six-feet-tall, broad shouldered women with Adam's apples and five'o'clock shadows. Maybe that's where some of the comedy comes from: our secret, almost smug knowledge that these characters are completely ignorant of. But it's still really funny to see a guy in a dress.
Yet a girl dressed as a boy somehow doesn't have the same effect. There have been a few movies that feature female cross-dressers, but these are from a slightly different mold as those of the male cross-dressing variety. Boys Don't Cry is not a comedy. There is, of course, the recent example of She's the Man. Most of the comedy in this movie, though, arises not from the girl trying to look like a boy, but rather act like a boy.
Seeing a girl dressed as a boy is somehow not as funny as a boy dressed as a girl. Maybe it's because Shakespeare used it so much. He ruins everything. Of course, in his time, it would have been a boy dressed a girl dressed as a boy, which looks the same as a boy dressed as a boy, which isn't funny at all, unless the boy is funny looking.
Think about it. It's all throughout history. Look at movies and TV. The tough-guy male lead wearing a dress and looking awkward or indignant always gets a laugh. Whole plots, even, whole bases for movies' classification in the genre of comedy have hinged on the age-old, fool-proof gag of the male cross dressser.
For evidence I refer to Some Like it Hot, I Was a Male War Bride, Bosom Buddies, Tootsie, the more recent Sorority Boys. What is perhaps an addition to the comedic quality of these examples is that the characters in these films are not drag queens. They are truly trying to disguise themselves, to pass as women. Of course we, the genius audience, can clearly see that they most definitely are not women. But the other characters in the films seem not to see anything out of the ordinary about six-feet-tall, broad shouldered women with Adam's apples and five'o'clock shadows. Maybe that's where some of the comedy comes from: our secret, almost smug knowledge that these characters are completely ignorant of. But it's still really funny to see a guy in a dress.
Yet a girl dressed as a boy somehow doesn't have the same effect. There have been a few movies that feature female cross-dressers, but these are from a slightly different mold as those of the male cross-dressing variety. Boys Don't Cry is not a comedy. There is, of course, the recent example of She's the Man. Most of the comedy in this movie, though, arises not from the girl trying to look like a boy, but rather act like a boy.
Seeing a girl dressed as a boy is somehow not as funny as a boy dressed as a girl. Maybe it's because Shakespeare used it so much. He ruins everything. Of course, in his time, it would have been a boy dressed a girl dressed as a boy, which looks the same as a boy dressed as a boy, which isn't funny at all, unless the boy is funny looking.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
The End of the Road (or, Theology To Go)
June 19th, 2006
I set out from Kelly Latte's this afternoon with only the intention of going somewhere quiet to drink my mocha and be alone with God awhile. I thought of Lake Meridian, not thinking of the fact that it's a June afternoon and the possibility that God had other plans. He obviously did, because the lake was packed. I've never liked crowds. I drove once around the parking lot, then paused at the exit. Left or right? Right would take me back home, but something told me, "left."
I turned left onto Kent Kangley and as I drove through Covington it occurred to me that I had no idea where I was going. God did, though. "Follow that truck." I did.
The truck drove through the traffic of Covington and continued on toward Maple Valley and as I followed, God and I had a conversation. Well, mostly I asked Him where I was going and mostly He didn't tell me. "Just trust Me," He said.
"Fine!" I said, and drove on.
A melting pot of emotions and thoughts I've expressed to God time and again in the past, though never all at the same time, came rushing in and I began asking Him where I was going again, though this time not literally.
Again He said, "Just trust Me."
Then it got philosophical. "I know I should trust You, God, I know it makes sense and really when you think about it, following You and giving You everything is the smart thing to do and I always try to do the smart thing and You know that because You made me this way and I want to believe that I can completely give up everything to You and that You're the only reason for living and that I shouldn't follow my heart but Yours, but really, my heart should be Your heart, and I know all of this. I know it. I don't need proof because it's right here in front of my eyes. What I need is faith, because even though I know all of this, I just can't quite seem to believe it." All this I intimated to God in a jumble of words and half-finished phrases and in about five seconds. Isn't that funny, how our words can make no sense at all, yet God knows exactly what we mean?
God said, "Just keep driving." I did.
Then I passed the Mormon church at Four Corners and I said, "What's their deal, God?"
"They don't even know," He answered. "They're confused. They have faith and works all jumbled up and they don't realize that salvation is already theirs. They're making it impossible for themselves, not realizing that with Me, all things are possible. Kind of like what you're doing right now."
Well! Just tell it like it is! Thankfully, I was stopped at a red light at that point. The light turned green and I eased slowly on the gas pedal, going through the intersection in spiritual silence for a few minutes before the words of a song on the radio broke through my reverie: "Let go, let go, just jump in..."
Merely curious this time, I again asked God where I was going. "Just keep driving," He said. "I want to show you something."
I was still following the truck. I was past Maple Valley now and in one of those little towns. Ravensdale, I think. The mountains rose up before me, green before summer's dry heat sets in, the tops shrouded in a mist of clouds perforated by beams of sunlight.
A new song was on the radio now. "It's a winding road... I still don't know where it goes... It's a long way home. I've been searching for a long time, but I still have hope... I'm gonna find my way home..."
"Is this what you wanted me to see?" I whispered, tears pooling in my eyelashes.
"Yes..."
For some reason I burst out laughing. "This is beautiful, God," still smiling, at peace for a moment.
Then, "Should I turn around and go home now?"
"Not yet."
"How will I know when it's time, when I've reached my destination?" In essence, "How will I know?"
"You'll know."
Frustrated, "How will I know? Will there be a sign or something?"
Again, "You'll know."
Sigh.
Five minutes later I saw a paper plate tacked to a signpost with one word on it: "DONE." I laughed, turned around and drove home.
August 2nd, 2006
Today I drove all the way to the end of that road. I drove though forests and hills and more little towns than I could count, twisting and turning like any good country road should. Then, there it was. The end of the road, just a gravel driveway leading up to a little blue house, and three kids jumping on a trampoline in the back yard. I wonder if they know that they live at the end of the road, or if they care. In knowing, would they gain anything?
I'd wondered for ages (okay, months) what was at the end of that road, and they had known all along and didn't care. I think we all find the same thing at the end of our road, no matter what we find. We want to know so bad, but when we find out...
"Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up. The man who thinks he knows something does not yet know what he ought to know. But the man who loves God is known by God." - Paul of Tarsus
...we find we don't need to know everything.
I set out from Kelly Latte's this afternoon with only the intention of going somewhere quiet to drink my mocha and be alone with God awhile. I thought of Lake Meridian, not thinking of the fact that it's a June afternoon and the possibility that God had other plans. He obviously did, because the lake was packed. I've never liked crowds. I drove once around the parking lot, then paused at the exit. Left or right? Right would take me back home, but something told me, "left."
I turned left onto Kent Kangley and as I drove through Covington it occurred to me that I had no idea where I was going. God did, though. "Follow that truck." I did.
The truck drove through the traffic of Covington and continued on toward Maple Valley and as I followed, God and I had a conversation. Well, mostly I asked Him where I was going and mostly He didn't tell me. "Just trust Me," He said.
"Fine!" I said, and drove on.
A melting pot of emotions and thoughts I've expressed to God time and again in the past, though never all at the same time, came rushing in and I began asking Him where I was going again, though this time not literally.
Again He said, "Just trust Me."
Then it got philosophical. "I know I should trust You, God, I know it makes sense and really when you think about it, following You and giving You everything is the smart thing to do and I always try to do the smart thing and You know that because You made me this way and I want to believe that I can completely give up everything to You and that You're the only reason for living and that I shouldn't follow my heart but Yours, but really, my heart should be Your heart, and I know all of this. I know it. I don't need proof because it's right here in front of my eyes. What I need is faith, because even though I know all of this, I just can't quite seem to believe it." All this I intimated to God in a jumble of words and half-finished phrases and in about five seconds. Isn't that funny, how our words can make no sense at all, yet God knows exactly what we mean?
God said, "Just keep driving." I did.
Then I passed the Mormon church at Four Corners and I said, "What's their deal, God?"
"They don't even know," He answered. "They're confused. They have faith and works all jumbled up and they don't realize that salvation is already theirs. They're making it impossible for themselves, not realizing that with Me, all things are possible. Kind of like what you're doing right now."
Well! Just tell it like it is! Thankfully, I was stopped at a red light at that point. The light turned green and I eased slowly on the gas pedal, going through the intersection in spiritual silence for a few minutes before the words of a song on the radio broke through my reverie: "Let go, let go, just jump in..."
Merely curious this time, I again asked God where I was going. "Just keep driving," He said. "I want to show you something."
I was still following the truck. I was past Maple Valley now and in one of those little towns. Ravensdale, I think. The mountains rose up before me, green before summer's dry heat sets in, the tops shrouded in a mist of clouds perforated by beams of sunlight.
A new song was on the radio now. "It's a winding road... I still don't know where it goes... It's a long way home. I've been searching for a long time, but I still have hope... I'm gonna find my way home..."
"Is this what you wanted me to see?" I whispered, tears pooling in my eyelashes.
"Yes..."
For some reason I burst out laughing. "This is beautiful, God," still smiling, at peace for a moment.
Then, "Should I turn around and go home now?"
"Not yet."
"How will I know when it's time, when I've reached my destination?" In essence, "How will I know?"
"You'll know."
Frustrated, "How will I know? Will there be a sign or something?"
Again, "You'll know."
Sigh.
Five minutes later I saw a paper plate tacked to a signpost with one word on it: "DONE." I laughed, turned around and drove home.
August 2nd, 2006
Today I drove all the way to the end of that road. I drove though forests and hills and more little towns than I could count, twisting and turning like any good country road should. Then, there it was. The end of the road, just a gravel driveway leading up to a little blue house, and three kids jumping on a trampoline in the back yard. I wonder if they know that they live at the end of the road, or if they care. In knowing, would they gain anything?
I'd wondered for ages (okay, months) what was at the end of that road, and they had known all along and didn't care. I think we all find the same thing at the end of our road, no matter what we find. We want to know so bad, but when we find out...
"Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up. The man who thinks he knows something does not yet know what he ought to know. But the man who loves God is known by God." - Paul of Tarsus
...we find we don't need to know everything.
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
"The Prince" and Me: Machiavelli in Shakespeare's "Henry V"
This idea first came to me last fall while taking a course on Shakespeare at school. I had never read any of Shakespeare's histories before when my class was assigned to read Henry V, or "Henry five" as we ended up calling it. As we read the play, it struck me that King Henry, at least as portrayed by Shakespeare, was a Machiavellian ruler. Actually, I had no idea if this was a legitimate theory or not, since, of course, I'd never actually read Machiavelli, but I thought it sounded good, and if I could prove it that would be really cool. So I decided to read The Prince and here's what I came up with:
Henry V is about a young man coming into his role as a king and what he does to prove his right and capability as king. In the process, Henry illustrates several tactics for ruling proposed and explained by Niccolo Machiavelli in his treatise The Prince. Machiavelli's Prince is personified by King Henry. This personification is shown in Henry's decisions and actions thoroughout England's war with France.
From the beginning, Henry displays Machiavellian principles. His initial decision to go to war is partly due to the persuasion of his advisors: "Awake the rememberance of these valiant dead, / And with your puissant arm renew their feats!" This encouragement to revive the glorious war victories of his ancestors appeals to Henry because it will allow him to prove himself in war, something Machiavelli says a prince cannot rule without: "A prince... must have no other object or thought, or take up anything as his profession, except war and its rules and discipline, for that is the only art that befits one who commands." Triumph in war is the only way that Henry, or any prince, according to Machiavelli, can prove that he is a capable ruler, so he sets out to conquer France, claiming divine right to its crown and lands.
King Henry also illustrates Machiavelli's theories in his dealings with his army. In Act 4, scene 3, his rousing St. Crispian's Day speech shows that he has mastered the art of persuasion to gain his troops' support: "And Crispin Crispian shal ne'er go by, / From this day to the ending of the world, / But we in it shall be remembered." Promising immortality in the memory of humankind is a foolproof way to convince men to fight, even at the risk of their own lives. Machiavelli would approve: "Those princes have done great things... who have been able to confuse men's brains by cunning, and in the end, they have overcome those who made loyalty their foundation." By not mentioning the great risk his men are taking and instead glorifying war in his inspirational speech, confusing his men's brains, Henry has played upon his troops' loyalty in persuading them to fight, proving himself a Machiavellian ruler.
It's very possible that Shakespeare was familiar with Machiavelli's writing and intentionally formed Henry's character based on the work. He was very well-read. And if he did read it, he probably didn't think of the possibilty, as my brother has pointed out, of its being a satire, a joke, a fifteenth century episode of Punk'd, like Jonathan Swift's essay about how poor people should eat their babies (except I don't think Swift was in the fifteenth century). But, intentional or not, it's clear that Shakespeare's Henry reflects Machiavelli's Prince, in both word and deed, a resemblance which established Henry as a great leader and a great king.
Henry V is about a young man coming into his role as a king and what he does to prove his right and capability as king. In the process, Henry illustrates several tactics for ruling proposed and explained by Niccolo Machiavelli in his treatise The Prince. Machiavelli's Prince is personified by King Henry. This personification is shown in Henry's decisions and actions thoroughout England's war with France.
From the beginning, Henry displays Machiavellian principles. His initial decision to go to war is partly due to the persuasion of his advisors: "Awake the rememberance of these valiant dead, / And with your puissant arm renew their feats!" This encouragement to revive the glorious war victories of his ancestors appeals to Henry because it will allow him to prove himself in war, something Machiavelli says a prince cannot rule without: "A prince... must have no other object or thought, or take up anything as his profession, except war and its rules and discipline, for that is the only art that befits one who commands." Triumph in war is the only way that Henry, or any prince, according to Machiavelli, can prove that he is a capable ruler, so he sets out to conquer France, claiming divine right to its crown and lands.
King Henry also illustrates Machiavelli's theories in his dealings with his army. In Act 4, scene 3, his rousing St. Crispian's Day speech shows that he has mastered the art of persuasion to gain his troops' support: "And Crispin Crispian shal ne'er go by, / From this day to the ending of the world, / But we in it shall be remembered." Promising immortality in the memory of humankind is a foolproof way to convince men to fight, even at the risk of their own lives. Machiavelli would approve: "Those princes have done great things... who have been able to confuse men's brains by cunning, and in the end, they have overcome those who made loyalty their foundation." By not mentioning the great risk his men are taking and instead glorifying war in his inspirational speech, confusing his men's brains, Henry has played upon his troops' loyalty in persuading them to fight, proving himself a Machiavellian ruler.
It's very possible that Shakespeare was familiar with Machiavelli's writing and intentionally formed Henry's character based on the work. He was very well-read. And if he did read it, he probably didn't think of the possibilty, as my brother has pointed out, of its being a satire, a joke, a fifteenth century episode of Punk'd, like Jonathan Swift's essay about how poor people should eat their babies (except I don't think Swift was in the fifteenth century). But, intentional or not, it's clear that Shakespeare's Henry reflects Machiavelli's Prince, in both word and deed, a resemblance which established Henry as a great leader and a great king.
Sunday, July 30, 2006
12th Street Books
The smell of aged paper
Like dust, but sweet
The scent of memory
The cloth on the spines
Red or green or blue, now faded
The crumbling bindings
The sound of old music
-Is it Mozart, or Vivaldi?-
And sneakers on the hollow wood floor
The ghosts that dwell here never lived
Except in the dreams of their creators
And minds of their readers
This is the place
Where Imagination
Becomes real
Like dust, but sweet
The scent of memory
The cloth on the spines
Red or green or blue, now faded
The crumbling bindings
The sound of old music
-Is it Mozart, or Vivaldi?-
And sneakers on the hollow wood floor
The ghosts that dwell here never lived
Except in the dreams of their creators
And minds of their readers
This is the place
Where Imagination
Becomes real
Unscented Perfume
So, here's the deal. I really do believe that it's God's grace that saves us. I have to believe that because it's impossible to be saved by works, to earn our salvation. How can we do His will without His blessing? How can we obey His command without His Spirit? I have to believe that it's grace that saves, that sets us free, because if it's not, then I'm not free. My belief in God is as much out of necessity as conviction. But really, whose intuition will tell them anything but that they have to work for what they want? Of course, God does not grant all our desires; He changes them. I know that I needed to know that I believed in grace before I could speak of it to other people. I know that I have a choice in my belief, but who would choose death over life, eternal bondage over eternal freedom? And if I love God only because He loves me, there's nothing wrong with that, because I couldn't love Him at all if it weren't for His love, which is by His grace. I am as much His by His right as by my choice. Nothing I have is my own, but I rejoice that, though I am unworthy, His love gives me all that I need. After all, it wouldn't be grace if we deserved it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)