What's Glorious

The other day I had to undertake the bittersweet task of removing the last few items from the sailboat we have enjoyed so much for five summers. It was sweet because being aboard, even in the frozen yard, brings back fond memories and bitter because we have had to give her up against our will. While there is a “new” boat across town, there will be long days of waiting and preparation before she will take us sailing.

Winter is always hard on a Michigan sailor. The cheery wavelets that bounce warm sunlight into laughing eyes are replaced by a flat, featureless surface of snow-swept ice that mocks a sailor’s desire. The warm winds that caress the summer sails have become cold shrieks in the icy rigging. Shakespeare was right to speak of “our winter of discontent.”

In his book, Desire, John Eldridge reminds me that perhaps I should not waste seasonal sadness, but use it instead to bank the fires of hope for the future. He reminds me that after each pale Michigan winter there is a glorious green spring. And this, Eldridge says, is the perfect metaphor for what we hope for if we believe in something called Heaven. Sometimes Christians seem underwhelmed by the thought of Heaven – all that floating on clouds, playing harps and singing hymns or whatever. Even though Heaven is called “glorious,” we seldom get really excited about it. I don’t think we have a clue what glorious is.

A sailor can picture a perfect seventy degree July afternoon on Lake Michigan with a 10-12 knot southwesterly breeze filling the sails and the boat heeling just enough to get that ideal magical mystery canvas miracle going. The hull slices through the waves, rolling the bow wake into a burbling song of peaceful contentment. That is glorious.

Most people can remember a beautiful sunset. The sky gets painted in hues of yellow, gold, lavender and pink with such artistry that it takes your breath away. Just as the last glow fades in the west, the moon rises above the eastern horizon while the first star punctuates the blue-black sky. That is glorious.

Parents may have experienced the wonder of a child laid on her mother’s breast after long hours of labor and tears. But then they look at the tiny pink bundle that is the dearest thing on earth and can’t believe they have been a party to such a miracle. That is glorious.

Music lovers might have been to a concert where they marveled as a gifted pianist skillfully coaxed a Beethoven sonata out of a Steinway. They may have found that the music was played with such artistry and passion that it made tears come to their eyes. That is glorious.

Or there was that little Italian restaurant in downtown Columbus, Indiana, of all places. As an appetizer they served a butternut squash soup that had a sweet, creamy taste that makes my mouth water to think of it. The main course was chicken Marsala that was so rich and savory that my taste buds could barely register the full delight. That was glorious.

The Bible calls us to taste and see that the Lord is good. It is not wrong to make comparisons between the earthly pleasures we know and the eternal pleasures that await. We just need to maintain the correct perspective. Hear anew the words of the Apostle when he says that you have neither seen nor heard anything like, nor have your wildest imaginings begun to prepare you for what God has waiting for us in Eternity. That will be glorious.

Come, Spring.

Peace On Earth?

I made the mistake of watching some news while I ate breakfast the other day. Floods and mudslides in the West, stranded travelers in Europe, increased terror threat everywhere; thanks for the live report and Merry Christmas. I pictured the family getting ready to move into their just completed home watching it float down the wash turned raging river. I pictured the thousands trapped for days in airports, sleeping on benches, eating snack food instead of enjoying home-cooked meals with distant family. I pictured the churning anxiety of millions who live in daily dread of violent religious zealots.

Then I imagined what it was like for a woman far into her third trimester travelling to an unfamiliar town with her new husband so the government could get a better handle on their purse strings. Travel was difficult: risks from robbers, spring floods and general discomfort and inconvenience in her advanced pregnancy. Unease multiplies as the contractions begin and no suitable lodgings can be found when they reach their destination. I wonder how she felt learning that they would have to share a rude shelter with the local livestock.

I suspect the delivery was normal, though in much less than normal surroundings. But then I picture the young family’s amazement at the visit by the shepherds. Here come the least of Judean society with a report of angelic announcements and grand proclamations. Did they feel special, I wonder. It might have been better had the shepherds kept quiet, since their news reached the king’s ear and prompted a vicious attack which forced the young couple to flee with their baby to a foreign country.

The trouble did not stop there. Although his early years may have been ordinary, his last few were anything but. The story is well known. The political and religious powers conspired to end his short life in a most cruel and demeaning way. But he saw it coming; he told his followers to expect it and nothing less for their own destinies. And here lies one of the most strange paradoxes of the Christian faith. The shepherds heard proclamations of peace on Earth; the baby grew to become the long awaited Prince of Peace. Yet trial, tribulation and yearning for ultimate rest are the promised product of his life.

If you think life is supposed to be a bed of roses, watch out for the inevitable thorns. The Rose of Sharon promised peace only to men of good will (a better translation than good will to men.) Who are these men? They are those who do the will of the only god who offers true peace. And what is his will? That we who see neighbors in trouble come alongside to offer what we can. People with perfect lives seldom see the need for help, but when discomfort comes, the Comforter who is Peace looks pretty inviting. If you know Him, show Him to someone who really needs a merry Christmas.

Be There. Now.

Are we there yet? When our kids were little, this question often rose from the back seat; with family scattered across state lines, trips of several hundred miles were not uncommon. Since children live almost exclusively in the present tense, I know it seemed to them as if they had spent their entire existence in the car. As they grew out of childhood, they gained perspective and soon realized that a six hour ride will not be over in the first fifteen minutes, or the next, or the next.

I sometimes think this aspect of maturity (if that is what it is) does not serve us well. There is something to be said for living in the moment: carpe diem and all that. I once taught a college orientation class that encouraged students to “Be there. Now.” When in class, focus on the instruction and participate. When studying, limit distractions and make good use of the time. When relaxing, let go and totally be in the moment. Be there. Now. I like the emphasis; we can all benefit from the advice to invest our whole selves in whatever we are presently doing.

There might be a lesson for us in the Greek of the New Testament. There are two words which can be translated “time” in koine Greek: chronos and kairos. Chronos we can readily understand as we take our words chronograph and chronology from it. It imagines the linear nature of what we call time; it places events in order; chronological order we call it. This happened first, then that. I am typing now; soon I will be sleeping; in the morning I will wake up to face another day’s worth of time. Chronos. (See my blog on time if you want an exploration of the concept of time.)

Kairos, on the other hand, requires that we disregard the linear aspect of time and consider the quality of aptness or suitability. We say the moment is ripe for romance or remark that, “these are the times that try men’s souls.” If we are not sensitive to the “kairosity” of a situation, we may miss its import altogether. We contemplate the Jews waiting centuries for Messiah (chronosity,) then completely missing their place in the dispensation of God’s larger plan (kairosity) when Messiah appeared.

The Old Testament is full of men who spent time in God’s waiting room. Noah waited one hundred years while building the ark. Abram waited twenty-five years for the promised son. Moses waited forty years in the desert – twice. David waited fifteen years between his anointing and crowning as king. Hebrews eleventh chapter lists a pantheon of saints and closes with the haunting reminder that they did not receive the promise for which they waited.

Too often I am guilty of fretting (faithlessly) over chronology because I don’t get the “kairos” of my situation. John Eldridge (Ransomed Heart Ministries) speaks of seeing with the heart, which I think involves recognizing the “kairos.” Setting our minds on things above (Colossians 3) entails seeing beyond the folds of time (think Madeline L’Engle) and getting as much of a God perspective as our finite minds can bear. Dwelling on the past is pointless; worrying about the future is useless; living in the present is priceless. Our task is to discover what is each moment best suited for. Then we need to show up: be there, now.

American Exceptionalism, Please

Europe is burning. Again. This time it is not some power hungry dictator or a zealous religious fanaticism stoking the fire. The news that blazes across our TV screens almost nightly pictures lines of police in fluorescent green holding Lexan shields against surging waves of young people throwing Molotov cocktails and rocks. First Greece, then France and now Great Britain have erupted with violent discontent. The rioters are not the radical fringe; they are students and workers unremarkable in their everyday-ness.

What has caused these otherwise docile citizens to engage in such outlandish behavior? Have they been beaten without cause, dragged from their homes at night, tortured by evil inquisitors? No. They have been told that there will be no seconds at the dinner table. Oliver has stood in the workhouse mess to ask, "Please Sir, I want some more," and those who run the orphanage have said no. We have apparently jumped the next chapter in which Oliver rises up and beats his tormentor, or in this case, his provider.

Europe has been undergoing an experiment in socialism since the reconstruction that began after the two World Wars. Wealth equalization through heavy taxation has provided such treats as universal health care, free or heavily subsidized university education, tenured employment for all, 36 hour work weeks, months of paid vacation, state funded retirement and much more. This all sounds so wonderful that many here in America are trying to catch up with Europe and their enlightened social structure. There is just one problem with the whole experiment: it has failed. Most of Europe has reached the point of bankruptcy; Oliver cannot have more because the pot is empty.

The governments are announcing cuts in programs, lay-offs of hundreds of thousands, increases in tuition (or reductions in aid,) and countless other measures to staunch the economic bleeding that will ultimately result in the patient's demise. So the people riot. They have become so accustomed to feeding at the government trough that they believe it is their right to continue the feast. The government now realizes that only a fast will save the system. The people are expressing their disinterest in fasting violently.

I don't watch Sean Hannity very often (he's become too whiney for me,) but last night around midnight I was waiting for my laptop to download a security update after getting attacked while browsing and the subject of his Great American Panel caught my attention. They were discussing the riots in Great Britain and elsewhere in socialist Europe. Hannity asked if that scenario might not be repeated here if our financial difficulties are not soon relieved. I was encouraged to hear the response of Peter J. Johnson, Jr., a Fox News legal analyst. He expressed the belief that "American exceptionalism" would keep our citizens from becoming violent.

Johnson's comment made me pause to consider just what is exceptional about America. I think I know at least part of it: it is our religious faith. No, I do not believe we are a "Christian nation." But I do believe there are millions of ordinary folks across the heartland who would not riot because they know that government is not their savior or even their provider. During the French revolution the people consciously jettisoned everything that sprang from faith. During the American revolution we clung to the principles that stem from a faith in something greater than ourselves, certainly greater than the government we created. If there are riots in America, I suspect they will be against government efforts to deny our God-given rights, not our desire for "More, please."

Obama a Socialist?

I have already admitted in this space that I am a semanticist; I am accused frequently of being too particular about word choice. Blame it on the poet in me (or on my Mother’s insistence on correct English.) I try to say what I mean and mean what I say; I expect the same of others. Needless to say, I am often disappointed.

Sometimes people purposely misuse a word or twist its meaning to fit their agenda. This tactic is so common in politics that it hardly needs an example, but I will share two that made headlines a few years ago. George W. Bush flew to an aircraft carrier returning from the Iraq war zone and stood in front of a banner proclaiming “Mission Accomplished.” The men and women on board knew the banner signified that their “mission” had been accomplished.

The liberal press, eager to find any trace of egg on the face of their arch enemy, tried to paint President Bush the fool for suggesting that the war in Iraq had been won. The ploy was so disingenuous as to be mindless if only one remembered the words of the President when he initiated the war. He clearly said that the conflict would not be over in weeks or months or years, perhaps not for generations. He understood the nature of the Islamic extremists we are fighting. They have a very long view of history; their battle did not start in this generation, nor do they expect to win in this generation.

Perhaps more damning was the mantra, “Bush lied; people died,” which was heard incessantly from opponents to the war in Iraq referring to his claim that Sadam Hussein had weapons of mass destruction (WMD). Even small children know what a lie is. President Bush, along with the leaders of several other countries, the intelligence community and half the world’s population (think Kurdish rebels) “knew” Sadam had WMD. Calling the President a liar in this instance was worse than disingenuous; it was malicious.

George W. Bush was too much of a gentleman to rebut every ridiculous thing his political enemies said. He was willing to let history be the judge of his actions. This was painful for some of us who watched him take flaming arrows from the press day after day, but in retrospect, I think I can see the ultimate wisdom in his behavior. Barak Obama, in contrast, spends a great deal of energy responding to criticism and has begun to sound like a whiney child.

President Obama has been labeled a socialist. Communism, a radicalized form of socialism, has been embraced by a significant number of the people with whom he chooses to surround himself. His main accomplishments (taking over commerce and the health care delivery system) are deemed socialistic by the right, though some Socialists disagree. Yet the President and his supporters in the press claim he is being unfairly painted with a negative stereotype.

Some ask why it is such a big deal to be called a socialist, why it is negative. Commenting on the current political situation, James Kennedy suggested that socialism is legalized plunder, as Frederic Bastiat called it in his famous treatise, The Law. It does organize, under government sanction, the redistribution of wealth (something which Obama has openly encouraged.) Kennedy comments that the situation in Washington DC is not comic, but tragic. He reminds us of George Washington’s warning that government can become a “fearful master” without a proper moral foundation.

As Christians, we are not wannabe communists, as some suggest from a misreading of Acts 2. The communal lifestyle chosen by some believers is voluntary; the Bible record makes this clear. Government mandated community, communism, is evil. We must not suppose that the government can impose a Christian-like ideal community. Only the Gospel, through the regeneration of lives, can accomplish that. In the meantime, if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, I will not be fooled into calling it the golden goose.