A common thought experiment: If your house was on fire and you could save one material possession on your way out the door, what would it be? An easy one for me to answer, really. A large manilla envelope, inside of which are the typewritten pages of my father's journal, covering a span of time from 1985 to 2000. My dad lived in the pre-blog era, so his thoughts were preserved with a typewriter, which he loved (he went through several). I think he preferred it even to the computer he owned later in life. It was more...tactile, perhaps. His desk, with his typewriter, framed photos, various nick nacks, etc., was his favorite place in the world. His refuge, the one small place where he felt a degree of control. Most of his free time was spent there. I only wish his output was even greater, for there is nothing I value more of the things I own than the words he left behind. It is the closest thing I have to being able to talk to him now.
To a certain extent I have discovered as I read his words that we share a voice in our writing, the same basic cadence. Of course he had a habit of dropping profanity pretty freely. I no longer share the same comfort with it he had, but then again in a weird way I'm glad he did because that was how he really spoke, and so in reading even the f-bombs I'm hearing the old man as he actually was.
Most of his writing is a combination of the mundane events of the day and maudlin complaints over his job woes, relationship woes with my mom and Judy, and a great love and appreciation for his kids. He wrote knowing I would one day be reading it. I have tried to carry on his tradition, with the same bad habit of irregularity, to be sure. So...
Today was good. Ran a rework job on the boring mill, then went back to the CNC, which is nice. Gives me "butt time" to listen to some very interesting sessions from a guy named Michael Heiser on the unseen realm. Really fascinating take on a lot of Bible passages that seem rather odd because they just don't fit into the post-Enlightenment worldview we've all imbibed far more than we realize. There are great mysteries behind the veil, in the world our eyes cannot see. Again, fascinating.
Got home, intended to run with Jacqueline, but it was just too rainy. Really wish it would dry up for a week or so, Everything is just mucky, grey. Yuck. Made turkey and dumplings for dinner, tasty. For whatever reason decided to read through some of Dad's journal (hence the first few paragraphs above). It's about 9:30 now. Dumb dog Rocky is giving me the sad eyes, wants up on the couch. Nope. Kids are in bed, Candice in the shower, Return of the King playing on the t.v. Helped Rachel with her biome project tonight. Hoping to get the stairs built for Angie's trailer this weekend if it'll just quit raining. Overtime has picked up at work, so for now it looks like we'll get some breathing room moneywise, make a little progress.
Well, that's pretty much it for tonight. Think I'll catch up a bit on the news online, take my shower and get some z's. 'night.
Monday, January 23, 2017
Thursday, January 26, 2012
There's something very disturbing about how we in Evangelicalism are so prone to elevating certain writers and speakers to Christian stardom, and the effects it has on those celebrity Christians. Thinking a lot today about the dangers of self-promotion, or even well-meaning but perhaps unhealthy promotion of the messenger by those blessed by the message he or she brings. Even Jesus was constantly telling people, "don't tell anyone what I just did for you", and He was really the only preacher that actually deserved to be put on a pedestal. Definitely challenges me to make sure I'm making Christ and His word the point of emphasis and asking Him to help me not make my personality or "style" the draw card.
First there's Mark Driscoll and the increasing wierdness I'm finding in a lot of what he says, along with a belligerence that really makes me think he has some real issues that being in the spotlight only exacerbates.
Then there's Voddie Baucham, who I actually admire in a lot of ways, and I think he's a great writer. But there are definitely signs of imbalance in some of his views, and when you get to the whole "older men seek young women to help fill an unmet need that should have been filled by their daughters" thing...that just gives me the creeps.
And of course there's my favorite apologetics celebrity Who Shall Not Be Named ( I really need to give him a pseudonym since I find myself confronted with the guy's writings so often and thus will refer to him again in the future, no doubt), who in his zeal to stand for what he believes is the truth and defend the authority of the Bible is on the verge of building a cult. Anytime Christians start to look to a man for the final word on what the Bible says about a given subject, they are placing a burden on him that his shoulders were never designed to bear. We look to Jesus for that. It also illustrates the necessity of availing oneself of the collective wisdom of God's people through history. I wonder if maybe the multiplicity of writers used by God to bring the Bible into being illustrates this point.
Thing is, this hits home for me because for a long time I have approached teaching the LKC 4th-6th graders in a way that I am now concluding put far too much emphasis on personality and personal style. The kids loved it, but that isn't really the point, is it? The point is, when they leave are their minds focused on Jesus and wanting to be like Him, or on the teacher? I'm afraid too often it was the latter. It's why I've toned down my lessons a lot over the last year. A lot more time spent in the Bible, a lot more exposition (though even then there's the danger of seeking a reputation as a wonderful expositor. Oh, how the devil will use anything to spark our vanity!), more time spent with our eyes on the Scripture and not whatever goofy stunt the teacher might come up with to make a point.
It's not that a creative illustration isn't ever appropriate. But I have become keenly aware of the need to avoid two dangers:
1. Setting the kids up to expect Bible teaching to be so full of fun-filled activities that when they move upstairs and are asked to sit under expository preaching and follow a Scriptural chain of thought they find themselves unable and/or unwilling to make the switch.
2. I make myself a novelty speaker and become the reason for coming to class rather than the Bible.
This is not easy, I know. The very fact that a person presents the Bible clearly, persuasively, and engagingly automatically creates the possibility that his hearers will be drawn to him as something special because he can do those things, and in the process elevate the man above his message, which isn't his to begin with (not that I'm that clear, persuasive, or engaging. It's almost impossible to make this point without a certain awkwardness, I have to admit, fumbling around trying to promote non-promotion).
Maybe that's why people who just keep quiet are often thought the wisest. Along those same lines, I think a mark of a wise preacher/teacher is the ability to recognize the foibles and flaws in one's own personality and style and honest poke fun at it/laugh at others who do so. Generally I've found self-deprecating humor to be a good mark of a healthy walk with the Spirit in the life of a leader, and its absence to be a warning sign. People who can't laugh at themselves, or at others who laugh at their obvious shortcomings, are not spiritually healthy. Hey Mark: you talk about sex an awful lot. You have the gift of "seeing sexual sin" as people pass by? A person could build a whole season of Family Guy episodes on something like that. Voddie...that's just...odd, man. And to The Beard (my working pseudonym for aforementioned apologist): instead of reacting to everyone who makes fun of you by simply declaring them yet one more sign that Satan thinks you're God's biggest weapon against his diabolical plot to compromise the Church...why not just admit, "You know, this beard does make me look a bit goofy." Go buy a stovepipe hat, or some suspenders and a buggy. Or shave. Something. Just laugh along a bit instead of seeing the devil everywhere you turn.
So I'll shut up now and just go read my Bible. Or just look in the mirror and have a good chuckle. Sola Deo Gloria.
First there's Mark Driscoll and the increasing wierdness I'm finding in a lot of what he says, along with a belligerence that really makes me think he has some real issues that being in the spotlight only exacerbates.
Then there's Voddie Baucham, who I actually admire in a lot of ways, and I think he's a great writer. But there are definitely signs of imbalance in some of his views, and when you get to the whole "older men seek young women to help fill an unmet need that should have been filled by their daughters" thing...that just gives me the creeps.
And of course there's my favorite apologetics celebrity Who Shall Not Be Named ( I really need to give him a pseudonym since I find myself confronted with the guy's writings so often and thus will refer to him again in the future, no doubt), who in his zeal to stand for what he believes is the truth and defend the authority of the Bible is on the verge of building a cult. Anytime Christians start to look to a man for the final word on what the Bible says about a given subject, they are placing a burden on him that his shoulders were never designed to bear. We look to Jesus for that. It also illustrates the necessity of availing oneself of the collective wisdom of God's people through history. I wonder if maybe the multiplicity of writers used by God to bring the Bible into being illustrates this point.
Thing is, this hits home for me because for a long time I have approached teaching the LKC 4th-6th graders in a way that I am now concluding put far too much emphasis on personality and personal style. The kids loved it, but that isn't really the point, is it? The point is, when they leave are their minds focused on Jesus and wanting to be like Him, or on the teacher? I'm afraid too often it was the latter. It's why I've toned down my lessons a lot over the last year. A lot more time spent in the Bible, a lot more exposition (though even then there's the danger of seeking a reputation as a wonderful expositor. Oh, how the devil will use anything to spark our vanity!), more time spent with our eyes on the Scripture and not whatever goofy stunt the teacher might come up with to make a point.
It's not that a creative illustration isn't ever appropriate. But I have become keenly aware of the need to avoid two dangers:
1. Setting the kids up to expect Bible teaching to be so full of fun-filled activities that when they move upstairs and are asked to sit under expository preaching and follow a Scriptural chain of thought they find themselves unable and/or unwilling to make the switch.
2. I make myself a novelty speaker and become the reason for coming to class rather than the Bible.
This is not easy, I know. The very fact that a person presents the Bible clearly, persuasively, and engagingly automatically creates the possibility that his hearers will be drawn to him as something special because he can do those things, and in the process elevate the man above his message, which isn't his to begin with (not that I'm that clear, persuasive, or engaging. It's almost impossible to make this point without a certain awkwardness, I have to admit, fumbling around trying to promote non-promotion).
Maybe that's why people who just keep quiet are often thought the wisest. Along those same lines, I think a mark of a wise preacher/teacher is the ability to recognize the foibles and flaws in one's own personality and style and honest poke fun at it/laugh at others who do so. Generally I've found self-deprecating humor to be a good mark of a healthy walk with the Spirit in the life of a leader, and its absence to be a warning sign. People who can't laugh at themselves, or at others who laugh at their obvious shortcomings, are not spiritually healthy. Hey Mark: you talk about sex an awful lot. You have the gift of "seeing sexual sin" as people pass by? A person could build a whole season of Family Guy episodes on something like that. Voddie...that's just...odd, man. And to The Beard (my working pseudonym for aforementioned apologist): instead of reacting to everyone who makes fun of you by simply declaring them yet one more sign that Satan thinks you're God's biggest weapon against his diabolical plot to compromise the Church...why not just admit, "You know, this beard does make me look a bit goofy." Go buy a stovepipe hat, or some suspenders and a buggy. Or shave. Something. Just laugh along a bit instead of seeing the devil everywhere you turn.
So I'll shut up now and just go read my Bible. Or just look in the mirror and have a good chuckle. Sola Deo Gloria.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Growing up Fundamentalist
The first thing I do any time I go to the library is check out the new non-fiction shelf. Keeps me abreast of what's out there. So yesterday I went to pick up the movie Fall of the House of Usher, the old one with Vincent Price (great cheesy horror flick. Hard to beat Price), and of course I stop by the new book section. Apparently Franky Schaeffer - son of Francis and Edith Shaeffer and current HuffPo writer/occasional talking head/ex-fundie activist - has written a new book about his mom. The title was "Sex, God, and..." can't remember the rest. Typical Frankie though, making sure sex is somewhere in the title. He seems obsessed with the subject, as a lot of former fundies seem to be. I get the reasons why, but it really has gotten sort of trite by now, the whole "it was kept out of my sight so now that I've shuffled off my fundy past I gotta do my whole journey of sexual discovery" thing. So basically Frankie has become a sort of thinking man's Sam Kininson.
Frankie has built something of a reputation for himself due to his seeming need to expose every nook, cranny, foible, flaw, and skeleton in his parents' lives. This is supposed to be some sort of cathartic healing process exercise, I guess. He feels that the Evangelical community has made his parents into idealized heroes and believes it's his duty to make sure everyone understands that they were definitely NOT the people everyone makes them out to be. I guess there's some merit to that. But a lot of people feel he also dredged up a lot of dirt that was just unseemly. It came off sounding like he's a guy with a lot of unresolved issues who used this apparent need for transparency to drag his parents through the mud and therefore get a little payback for his miserable childhood. The truth is probably somewhere in between.
Anyway, I don't even know why I spent so much time ranting about that. I guess the guy annoys me. But the point of even mentioning him was that it was part of a larger theme on my mind this week. I've read through 6 years of blog posts from a guy who is, by his own description, a 49-year old "fundegelical". He's fundamental doctrinal, but generally evangelical in methodology. It's a growing trend as people raised as fundies try to work through a lot of excess witnessed over a lifetime raised in the strict environment of clapboard Baptist, suit and tie, no-facial hair wearin', King James Only religion. Got me thinking about my own religious upbringing.
I'm sort of a mongrel. Actually, I grew up Catholic. Did the whole catechism class, Confirmation thing. As with most Catholics, it was an interesting, if somewhat odd, part of life one morning per week, with very little effect on my daily life. We became Baptists somewhat abruptly after my Dad got "saved" at a country Baptist church way out in the country. A couple of guys he worked with had been steadily witnessing to him for years, and had invited him to their church. When he first drove us out there my sister and I suspected he'd joined a cult (that's pretty much how people where I grew up saw, and still see, such folks). The idea that anyone would be going to church on a Wednesday, let alone expected to on a regular basis, was kinda odd to us (my guess is it still is to most non-Baptists).
So we became Baptists. Fundie Baptists. KJV only, Chick Tracts in the Track Rack (a small display of various gospel literature found in the foyer of any self-respecting Baptist church), Suit and tie for the men, ankle-length skirts for the ladies, and lots of shoutin' on both sides of the pulpit. The first time I entered the sanctuary I wondered, "Where's the statues? The stained glass? The paintings? The Candles?" It looked more like a warehouse to me than a church. Instead of stations of the Cross they had missionary portraits with recent prayer letters. Instead of a little side room with candles and Mary they had what looked like a big hottub in the front which turned out to be the baptistry. And apparently the Pastor had been raised as a Christian Scientist because he was constantly talking about how terrible that bunch was.
We eventually left that church for another because it was so far to drive. The one we went to instead may have been in the city, but it was basically the same. Well, almost. Not quite as old fashioned. Skirts to the knee were generally accepted. Sometimes they had a quartet play that had guitars. But the pastor was interesting in his own way. I think my sister and I really worried him. Can't say I entirely blame him, since by this time I had finished my initial phase of being a good baptist kid and resumed my downhill slide - drinking, smoking pot, etc. And I really was a pain. Flirting with my girlfriend the whole time in the back row. Getting up to go to the bathroom pretty much every week in the middle of his sermon. One day he finally had enough and called me out when I was in mid stride down the aisle. Gave me the third degree right there, with me standing in the middle of the church.
I also remember him having a real issue with Amy Grant. This was back when "Baby Baby" was a hit. Boy, I wonder what he'd say now about CCM.
I don't think he'd ever been happier to see a kid graduate and get out of his church in his entire life (we also started going to the Christian school attached to that church about the same time we started going to that church). I really don't blame him. I was a serious pain in the neck and honestly on balance probably caused more grief than it was worth keeping me there for. But still...I'm glad they didn't kick me out because in the state I was in, if I had been put back in public school I would have really gone down the tubes.
Just how much of a pain was I?
- sprayed buck lure all over my teacher's seat once. His wife wanted me expelled.
- my buddies I was in a band with would often come to pick me up after school. One time one of our revolving guitar players (think Spinal Tap but with new guitarists every month instead of drummers) drove into a parking barrier, breaking it. He then wandered the school looking for me (high on paint), and when he ran into the Pastor, got within an inch of his face and asked, "Dude, where's Jim?". There were at least two Jims at that school (yes, it was that small), and there was no doubt whatsoever in the Pastor's mind which one he was looking for.
- brought a case of beer to a youth event. The poor guy that was serving as youth leader had organized a movie night at one of the kids' homes. I showed up with a case of Bud, which a few of us imbibed behind the one kids' garage, then proceeded to go back in and watch the movie while acting very inappropriately ( I won't go into details). A couple days later the youth leader came to my house to confront me about it. I admitted what I did was wrong. I should have been brought front and center with the Pastor, my parents, and the youth leader, but I guess he was hoping I wouldn't see him as a snitch and thereby gain my confidence. Sorry, but bad idea.
I could go on, but you get the idea. Did fundamentalism hurt me? Yes and No. No because in all honesty I actually needed even tighter control over my actions than I had. That was mostly a parental thing. I don't blame my church at all. If anything my church and school provided what little restraint I had and kept me from getting even worse. Sorta hard to skip class and get away with it when your class has only 7 kids. I would say theologically it was pretty shallow, but I got the general outline. A lot of KJV onlyism, which took me a while to work out, but I was never exactly militant about that. Sorta hard to be when you spend most of your time partying.
I guess it did do me some harm in the sense that no one every really seemed to explain in a way I could grasp what the whole discipleship thing was, how it worked. Being a Christian boiled down to go to church, wear modest clothes, don't cuss, rock and roll is demonic, etc. Then again, as with many, maybe someone did try to make it deeper and I was just too hard headed and dead set on hitting all the high points of what I thought the good life for a 16 year old was to hear it. There was definitely a strange dichotomy at work. I was pretty adamant about how people needed to believe the Bible, trust in Jesus, etc. My girlfriend at the time was Catholic and we had a number of pretty intense discussions on how that was wrong, that she needed to be saved. But she wouldn't, and it wasn't enough to convince me we shouldn't be dating. I can personally attest to the fact that teenagers have a strange ability to completely divorce their beliefs from their actions. Actually that's not fair. Plenty of adults do it too.
That's a snapshot of what it was like for me growing up fundie. There's more, and how things worked out will be the subject of future posts, maybe. I guess my message to Frankie would be this: lighten up. Yeah, there were some rotten things back there. There's rotten things everywhere. Quit making your wounds a meal ticket.
Frankie has built something of a reputation for himself due to his seeming need to expose every nook, cranny, foible, flaw, and skeleton in his parents' lives. This is supposed to be some sort of cathartic healing process exercise, I guess. He feels that the Evangelical community has made his parents into idealized heroes and believes it's his duty to make sure everyone understands that they were definitely NOT the people everyone makes them out to be. I guess there's some merit to that. But a lot of people feel he also dredged up a lot of dirt that was just unseemly. It came off sounding like he's a guy with a lot of unresolved issues who used this apparent need for transparency to drag his parents through the mud and therefore get a little payback for his miserable childhood. The truth is probably somewhere in between.
Anyway, I don't even know why I spent so much time ranting about that. I guess the guy annoys me. But the point of even mentioning him was that it was part of a larger theme on my mind this week. I've read through 6 years of blog posts from a guy who is, by his own description, a 49-year old "fundegelical". He's fundamental doctrinal, but generally evangelical in methodology. It's a growing trend as people raised as fundies try to work through a lot of excess witnessed over a lifetime raised in the strict environment of clapboard Baptist, suit and tie, no-facial hair wearin', King James Only religion. Got me thinking about my own religious upbringing.
I'm sort of a mongrel. Actually, I grew up Catholic. Did the whole catechism class, Confirmation thing. As with most Catholics, it was an interesting, if somewhat odd, part of life one morning per week, with very little effect on my daily life. We became Baptists somewhat abruptly after my Dad got "saved" at a country Baptist church way out in the country. A couple of guys he worked with had been steadily witnessing to him for years, and had invited him to their church. When he first drove us out there my sister and I suspected he'd joined a cult (that's pretty much how people where I grew up saw, and still see, such folks). The idea that anyone would be going to church on a Wednesday, let alone expected to on a regular basis, was kinda odd to us (my guess is it still is to most non-Baptists).
So we became Baptists. Fundie Baptists. KJV only, Chick Tracts in the Track Rack (a small display of various gospel literature found in the foyer of any self-respecting Baptist church), Suit and tie for the men, ankle-length skirts for the ladies, and lots of shoutin' on both sides of the pulpit. The first time I entered the sanctuary I wondered, "Where's the statues? The stained glass? The paintings? The Candles?" It looked more like a warehouse to me than a church. Instead of stations of the Cross they had missionary portraits with recent prayer letters. Instead of a little side room with candles and Mary they had what looked like a big hottub in the front which turned out to be the baptistry. And apparently the Pastor had been raised as a Christian Scientist because he was constantly talking about how terrible that bunch was.
We eventually left that church for another because it was so far to drive. The one we went to instead may have been in the city, but it was basically the same. Well, almost. Not quite as old fashioned. Skirts to the knee were generally accepted. Sometimes they had a quartet play that had guitars. But the pastor was interesting in his own way. I think my sister and I really worried him. Can't say I entirely blame him, since by this time I had finished my initial phase of being a good baptist kid and resumed my downhill slide - drinking, smoking pot, etc. And I really was a pain. Flirting with my girlfriend the whole time in the back row. Getting up to go to the bathroom pretty much every week in the middle of his sermon. One day he finally had enough and called me out when I was in mid stride down the aisle. Gave me the third degree right there, with me standing in the middle of the church.
I also remember him having a real issue with Amy Grant. This was back when "Baby Baby" was a hit. Boy, I wonder what he'd say now about CCM.
I don't think he'd ever been happier to see a kid graduate and get out of his church in his entire life (we also started going to the Christian school attached to that church about the same time we started going to that church). I really don't blame him. I was a serious pain in the neck and honestly on balance probably caused more grief than it was worth keeping me there for. But still...I'm glad they didn't kick me out because in the state I was in, if I had been put back in public school I would have really gone down the tubes.
Just how much of a pain was I?
- sprayed buck lure all over my teacher's seat once. His wife wanted me expelled.
- my buddies I was in a band with would often come to pick me up after school. One time one of our revolving guitar players (think Spinal Tap but with new guitarists every month instead of drummers) drove into a parking barrier, breaking it. He then wandered the school looking for me (high on paint), and when he ran into the Pastor, got within an inch of his face and asked, "Dude, where's Jim?". There were at least two Jims at that school (yes, it was that small), and there was no doubt whatsoever in the Pastor's mind which one he was looking for.
- brought a case of beer to a youth event. The poor guy that was serving as youth leader had organized a movie night at one of the kids' homes. I showed up with a case of Bud, which a few of us imbibed behind the one kids' garage, then proceeded to go back in and watch the movie while acting very inappropriately ( I won't go into details). A couple days later the youth leader came to my house to confront me about it. I admitted what I did was wrong. I should have been brought front and center with the Pastor, my parents, and the youth leader, but I guess he was hoping I wouldn't see him as a snitch and thereby gain my confidence. Sorry, but bad idea.
I could go on, but you get the idea. Did fundamentalism hurt me? Yes and No. No because in all honesty I actually needed even tighter control over my actions than I had. That was mostly a parental thing. I don't blame my church at all. If anything my church and school provided what little restraint I had and kept me from getting even worse. Sorta hard to skip class and get away with it when your class has only 7 kids. I would say theologically it was pretty shallow, but I got the general outline. A lot of KJV onlyism, which took me a while to work out, but I was never exactly militant about that. Sorta hard to be when you spend most of your time partying.
I guess it did do me some harm in the sense that no one every really seemed to explain in a way I could grasp what the whole discipleship thing was, how it worked. Being a Christian boiled down to go to church, wear modest clothes, don't cuss, rock and roll is demonic, etc. Then again, as with many, maybe someone did try to make it deeper and I was just too hard headed and dead set on hitting all the high points of what I thought the good life for a 16 year old was to hear it. There was definitely a strange dichotomy at work. I was pretty adamant about how people needed to believe the Bible, trust in Jesus, etc. My girlfriend at the time was Catholic and we had a number of pretty intense discussions on how that was wrong, that she needed to be saved. But she wouldn't, and it wasn't enough to convince me we shouldn't be dating. I can personally attest to the fact that teenagers have a strange ability to completely divorce their beliefs from their actions. Actually that's not fair. Plenty of adults do it too.
That's a snapshot of what it was like for me growing up fundie. There's more, and how things worked out will be the subject of future posts, maybe. I guess my message to Frankie would be this: lighten up. Yeah, there were some rotten things back there. There's rotten things everywhere. Quit making your wounds a meal ticket.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
The trouble with lying
Yesterday my oldest daughter (I have 2. The oldest is 5), climbed a chair to reach the bucket of Easter candy still left from this year, and her and her younger sister proceeded to dig in. When I walked in and saw all this I asked if she had climbed up and gotten the candy and her answer was a hesitant "no". Thus we had a "disciplinary moment", followed by a conversation where I tried to explain why lying is such a terrible thing.
And as I'm doing so, the entire time my own conscience is reminding me of just how many lies I have told. To friends, to co-workers, to family, to my wife. Maybe they were mostly "small". A few were not. I talked to my daughter about how lying damages relationships, how it destroys trust. We talked about how while trust can be rebuilt, it is painful and difficult. We talked about how much it hurts someone when we lie to them, especially when that someone has pledged their love and devotion to them, and vice versa.
I think she understood. It seems to really hurt her to think that she had hurt her daddy by lying to him. She cried, we hugged, and today we're okay. I hope the lesson stuck. It's still sticking with me. And that's exactly how it should be. We tend to think that grace means that the emotions that go with the knowledge of having sinned against another should go away. That is incorrect, I think. Should they paralyze us or lead to a pessimistic view? No. Paul was quite clear that godly sorrow is for the purpose of leading us to repentance, not leading us into a downward spiral of self-hate and morbidity. But like the stone pillar erected on the Jordan river bed, though it was unseen beneath the water, those who built it knew it was there, and just the sight of that river was enough to remind them of what was beneath it, and thus what happened the day that pillar was built.
God help us all, that we might learn to repent, to rejoice in His grace, and never forget the capacity for destruction that lies within every human heart, especially our own.
And as I'm doing so, the entire time my own conscience is reminding me of just how many lies I have told. To friends, to co-workers, to family, to my wife. Maybe they were mostly "small". A few were not. I talked to my daughter about how lying damages relationships, how it destroys trust. We talked about how while trust can be rebuilt, it is painful and difficult. We talked about how much it hurts someone when we lie to them, especially when that someone has pledged their love and devotion to them, and vice versa.
I think she understood. It seems to really hurt her to think that she had hurt her daddy by lying to him. She cried, we hugged, and today we're okay. I hope the lesson stuck. It's still sticking with me. And that's exactly how it should be. We tend to think that grace means that the emotions that go with the knowledge of having sinned against another should go away. That is incorrect, I think. Should they paralyze us or lead to a pessimistic view? No. Paul was quite clear that godly sorrow is for the purpose of leading us to repentance, not leading us into a downward spiral of self-hate and morbidity. But like the stone pillar erected on the Jordan river bed, though it was unseen beneath the water, those who built it knew it was there, and just the sight of that river was enough to remind them of what was beneath it, and thus what happened the day that pillar was built.
God help us all, that we might learn to repent, to rejoice in His grace, and never forget the capacity for destruction that lies within every human heart, especially our own.
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