A Bomber Too Far

James Carville must be a brilliant man. I say this because so many politically powerful people have called upon him for counsel. His brilliance is exhibited by his rise to such lofty status in spite of remarkably unpleasant vocal characteristics and a face made for radio. He has also shown outstanding cleverness, or perhaps just dumb luck, in his choice of a spouse, Mary Matalin. Clearly his equal or better intellectually, she brings to the marriage a kind of insurance no one can buy. If Carville’s policy suggestions are implemented to ill effect (as I believe they must be) Mary’s position on the opposite side of the political boat will prevent a family capsize.

I further respect James Carville for his present willingness to address the goose as he has the gander. Carville was quick to cast blame on George W. Bush for the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Yesterday, in true bi-partisan spirit, Carville screamed at George Stephanopoulos that Obama needs to, “Git down h’yah. We are dyin’ down h’yah.” He insisted that the unfolding tragedy of the Gulf oil spill demands nothing less than direct Presidential intervention. He went on to predict political disaster if the oil reaches Florida’s beaches. We all remember how important Florida can be in Presidential politics: hanging chads and all that.

I see a WWII B-17 bomber, flames enveloping both wings, smoke trailing ominously behind as it arcs relentlessly down into the war torn landscape. Carville sees it too. An increasing number of Democrats see it as well. The independents who fueled its maiden flight averted their eyes weeks or months ago. The irony in this failed bomber mission is that enemy fire did not bring it down; perhaps it was the effort to climb too high too fast or the refusal to throttle back the engines after take-off that brought disaster. Whatever it was that doomed this flight, it happened because of the actions of those on board.

I wrote some months ago of rats deserting a sinking ship. I like the bomber analogy better. In the 1970s there was a war movie called A Bridge Too Far. The movie I am imagining might be called A Bomber Too Far. This seems to be the opinion of many decent, well-meaning folks who voted for Barak Obama. He has gone too far. But lest we Christians get too smug, we should recall the Jimmy Carter fiasco. Many believers thought it was going to be wonderful to have a Sunday School teacher in the White House. That turned out not so well.

I would rather have a wise atheist running our government than a foolish Christian. The President of the United States is not a ministry position. The man in the White House is the CEO of the world's largest operation. Would I prefer someone there who shares my values? Of course. But let us not be foolish this November. From the Oval Office to the Drain Commissioner, let us elect men and women who hold to the uniquely American expression of a democratic republic and have experience suitable for the job. Certainly, we can assess their understanding of the divine nature of their appointment. But we must not again stumble into electing an incompetent. If we leave men like Barak Obama at the controls much longer, we may not pull out of this dive in time.

I Don't Believe in God

Shocked? A former chaplain at Harvard reportedly responded to students who said they did not believe in God in this manner: tell me about the god you don't believe in; it may be that I don't believe in such a god either. He then proceeds to describe the God in whom he does believe, the God of the Bible as represented by the God-man, Jesus. This prompted me to think about the "gods" today's atheists don't believe in.

The kindly grandfather god. Picture a white-bearded old gentleman with a warm smile rocking on some heavenly porch. He looks down on us with unconditional approval, perhaps shaking his head forlornly when we mess things up badly.

The angry stepfather god. This stern visage glares at our every move. He waits for the moment he can whip us mercilessly for any misdeed he chooses. He lives to whip us; he enjoys whipping us. Nothing is ever good enough for this perfectionist.

The absent landlord god. There is no clear picture of this deity, for he is not around. He put the universe together quite some time ago and took off for parts unknown. He may have left some rules behind, but one need not be too concerned about them in his absence.

The capricious mythological god. Imagine Zeus casting thunderbolts from high on Mount Olympus. If he doesn't like your hair style today, he will drive the humidity into triple digits to destroy it. If you aren't prepared for a quiz, this will be the day he prompts your teacher to pop one on you.

The eastern mystic god-is-everything god. This unknowable universal life force mysteriously influences everything and everyone, assigning consequences to the actions of all creatures. No personal attributes can be described because there is no person.

The vending machine god. This is the god of the gift. Make the correct prayer, say the proper chant, complete the required task and this cosmic Santa will slide everything you need down your chimney. Need to know the future; drop your token and wait for your own personal palm reading.

I don't believe in these gods either. The God I believe in is the God-with-skin-on, Jesus of Nazareth. This God forswore his divine prerogatives for one lifetime in order to walk about dusty Palestine and demonstrate who God really is. This God, in true iconoclastic fashion, demolished the misguided notions and practices of the religious leaders of his day. (Read any one of the Gospels for a blow by blow report; start with John if you are unfamiliar.) For three years he said if you would see the Father, look at me. Then, after the religio-political institutions put him to death, he was brought back to life to validate all he had spoken. Scores of once atheists have set out to prove this God false, their conversions bearing witness to the power of the One who is Truth. I too believe in this God.