The Reformed Pastor

The Reformed Pastor
by Richard Baxter

My first Puritan read from my own "free will." I won't add much to the praise it justly has received since its publication. It is a magnificent work, full of conviction and power. It has unsettled my pastor conception and hope I never am at ease unless in some manner applying Baxter's counsel.

Here are some snippets from the work:

"O what abundance of good might ministers do, if they would but live in contempt of the world, and the riches and glory thereof, and expend all they have in their Master’s service, and pinch their flesh, that they may have wherewith to do good! This would unlock more hearts to the reception of their doctrine, than all their oratory; and, without this, singularity in religion will seem but hypocrisy; and it is likely that it is so."

"It is not now and then an idle snatch or taste of studies that will serve to make an able and sound divine."

"If we were sufficient for everything, we might attempt everything, and take in order the whole Encyclopaedia: but life is short, and we are dull, and eternal things are necessary, and the souls that depend on our teaching are precious. I confess, necessity hath been the conductor of my studies and life. It chooseth what book I shall read, and tells me when, and how long. It chooseth my text, and makes my sermon, both for matter and manner, so far as I can keep out my own corruption."

And also, the whole volume is such as these, and is available online.

Lord Peter Views the Body

Lord Peter Views the Body
by Dorothy Sayers

It has been a long time since I've enjoyed a good clean mystery short story. Several times growing up I walked with Sherlock Holmes or Monsieur Dupin through fantastic crime scenes and on to Justice of the most gentlemanly sort. I loved Holmes. He was a sort of superheroe, I suppose: a fix it all, know it all, do it all, chap; never out of sorts, nor the worse for wear. He even played a fiddle (like the occasional yourstruly).

So I was refreshed to trapse back in to the sordid work of the "Yard" and the British underground with Lord Peter. Dorothy Sayers was actually friends with the Inklings, if she wasn't one herself. I'm told she writes much like Agatha Christie. I don't know who came first.

Lord Peter is a British version of Hercule Poirot, or a French version of Sherlock Holmes. That is to say, he's less delicate that Poirot but much more a priss than Holmes. He has a better sense of humor than either of them and is not quite as conceited either. He is a good character; no saint, mind.

The stories are short and the read flies by. I read the whole collection in two days without trying. They are good and quick.

The goodness in these sorts of mystery novels is two-fold: 1) it sets as exemplary the skill and discipline of observation, and 2) it illustrates a less combative, more casual approach to law enforcement, thus providing a higher standard for citizens. I much prefer focussing on the first: observation. It's praises are manifold and necessary to the Christian's own life. Yet, the second strikes me as perhaps more worth unpacking as it is a civil, social application of justice-persuing Christlikeness that simply, and possibly worshipfully, watches life, noting the curse-effects, and reporting them to the more-or-less proper authorities, under God.

Good book, fun read: "For the joy of all peoples through Jesus Christ."

Ode to K*rt: Racka...Corban

Who will teach us to scream?
Were is the tenor of terror, who
bellowed Yelps, amplified in the cave
of his hollow heart?

Too long our songs have risen:
happy, clappy, fervent yips
From vanilla soft-serves dipped in
the lust of the eyes
the lust of the flesh
and the boastful pride of life;
From the tops of the charts.

We need your rage, Corban,
your fear full disease, flung,
discharged in horror before
the eyes of Him with Whom
we have to do.

Not that you knew,

Racka, fellow man, object of wrath
and pity. Fool, we need your terror,
but you more needed our silence
to hear the small voice after
the fire burned, after
the storm blew.

Where do bad people go
when they die, K*rt?
Oh! You who know as he now is
take up his scream!

Wail and groan! Be afraid!
Be full of fear and trembling
before you saunter into the
throne room of Elohim.

Who will teach us to scream?
Where is the "doom and gloom"?
Who will paint it black
before the sun breaks through?

We must scream, great big howls
of sin, righteousness, and judgement,
and can our games, for at the end
they will say, "you all knew."

[I wrote this salty bit of doggerel after being fed up with Christian artists attempting to cross over or who just suck. I won't say who in particular, because some of my friends like them. As the poem attempts to say: Where are those people with the passion of Kurt Cobain? Where are the Christians who see the terror of God's Holiness, His wrath, and the imminent destruction that awaits all who sin and have no Savior?]

pygmies exist

Here is a well-written, eye-opening article on Congo: Mbuti Pygmies.

"Poor Robinson Crusoe"

Daniel Defoe's masterpiece, Robinson Crusoe, quickly turns from another "wild oats" book to a piece of devotional Puritan fiction. Really, if Baxter and the like ever wrote fiction, and if it was any good, they would write like this. More than just "religious" or conservative, the book explicitly honors the Sovereign God through Jesus Christ. Robinson undergoes remarkable alterations in his worldview after being caught in a net of unexplainable circumstances. The only hope, he finds, is to cry out to Jesus Christ for mercy, and for the repentance necessary to participate in God's special mercy of redemption.

Crusoe is stricken by a thought quite foreign to us: how can I explain how bad things have gone apart from God's Sovereignty? Things are going so bad there has to be intent behind it all. Alongside that, Crusoe realizes that they could be going worse. Thankfulness often begins the string of saving graces that culminates in glorification. "Wow. That was close."

I highly recommend reading this book. Your soul will do well by it.

"The Fantastic Four"

Apart from Jessica Alba, who is popular now because she resembles a "Bratz" doll, that is to say, as I've heard it said, W. T., presenting herself less discretly than a woman ought, the movie was not as bad as I expected.

There, how's that for a endorsement? Really, the Fantastic Four contained several excellent character studies, especially Ben Grimm, who makes a remarkable hard-right choice in the middle of fantastic circumstances.

I'd never before realized that the Fantastic Four are the only real Team Superhero. Other guys have sidekicks, that is, gophers, but only the Four are a team (THE NEESH, amazingly, noted that the X-men are a team. But I disagree. The X-men [X-persons] are a loosely associated group of vigilanties, hardly a team. But kudos to NEESH for her superhero memory!). The Four need each other. Alone their gifts aren't worth all that much, but together, well, together they can defeat even the most fearsome foe. This is a wonderful, subtle paradigm shift for the American male. We grow up wanting to be Superman, Batman, Aquaman, Hawkman, Flash, Spidey, Dick Tracy. But those kind of men wouldn't work too well together in a church. They're go-it-aloners; they're cowboys; heck, they're superheros.

But we're pastors. The day of the superhero-pastor is over. We had one here: nearly 60 years in this pastorate. Probably half that much time longer to reassemble things. No, I think most evangelicals understand the value of a board of elders, not simply as a wise office, but a biblical one.

Team ministry is no easier on relationships than Team Superhero work. But like the Four, a ministry team can be used by God for far greater Kingdom works than any one man. The team must be committed disciples of Jesus, vocational or non-vocational elders. But we must be a team. We must join. By this will all the world know that you are Christ's disciples, if you have enough love to work, share, forgive, grow, suffer, and rejoice...together (for the gospel).

Simple

Henry David Thoreau periodically captures my attention. However much he cheated in his endeavors, he did that with which I have long been enamored: heads to the woods. "Simplify, simplify, simplify," he said. "Simplify."

Thoreau missed a lot in life. He did some interesting things; wrote some books, but missed Christ and so missed everything. But we who have Christ and who are Christ's can appreciate Thoreau's three-fold anthem. Junior Church looked this last week at Psalm 1. Here is a beautiful picture. Christianity is so simple, yet so amazingly difficult. "Happy," it starts. Hedonists everywhere perk up. "I want to be happy." Do two things: one positive, one negative. Do not follow the path of increasing familiarity with natural, that is, wicked, counsel and counselors. But delight in and meditate upon the Word and world of the Lord. Simple. Each aspect is so natural, so providential, so inherent. Just like paths.

Jenecia and I went hiking at Laurel Hill State Park this Saturday. Hiking, when you find the path, is easy, simple even. You just follow it, and you end up somewhere: waterfall, cliff, parking lot. So it is with Christianity. Happiness is the waterfall at the end of a path. Follow the map and the trail will lead you there. Simple.

Keep it simple for yourself. Don't get bogged down in overly fine nuances of theology, missions, and exegesis. Always keep before you the simplicity of Jesus. The path to the cross may be uphill, but it is clearly marked, "for those who have eyes to see."

together

Together for the Gospel: I hope to see everyone there! And check out these funny videos.

thoughts on the trilogy of the Ring

We finished the trilogy of the Ring. This time I was led to meditate on the anti-Chance force, unamed in the trilogy. Tolkien only names his god-figure in the beginning of the Silmarilion. Iluvitar remains behind the scenes for the rest of the stories. It would have been wonderful to have seen how Tolkien might have brought him back in later had Tolkien lived.

I was driven to these reflections by the frequent despicible actions of the main characters. Flatly stated, they do not behave like good little christians. From Frodo to Sam, Gandalf to Aragorn, they all act foolish, cruel, or wicked sometimes. Sam and Feramir are cruel to Smeagol. Frodo, in all his heroism, is a simple hobbit; he inadvertantly lies to Smeagol; he cannot withstand the power of the ring.

No one acts perfectly. Yet the good outcome happens. In the end the ring is destroyed. It happened because behind all their weakness and simple mindedness worked the will of Iluvitar. So the ring beat Frodo. So mercy bore no positive ultimate effect on Gollum. So Sam's strength failed. Yet was the ring destroyed according to the plan of the god-figure of Tolkien's world.

In our lives, we will fail, we will falter. Yet in the end, we trust in God that through Jesus Christ, in the strength of His Spirit, we will find our souls kept. The enemy will be vanquished; the king will return. Praise be to God we do not need to be perfect. And He rather prefers it that way.

Wilkinson's "Jabez" poisons China

We didn't sense it quite as strongly here in the states because our Christianity is already so weak and worldly. But this is the effect of Bruce Wilkinson's pop-health/wealth CRAP!

"Who am I, Gamlie?"

"Who am I, Gamlie?"
"You are King of Rohan, Sire."

This bit of soul-searching by Theodin, King of Rohan, typifies his humaness. He is the human hero of the trilogy: no pedigree, no splendor, no secret magic, no "delightful resourcefulness." He struggles with his lost years, his weak caviling to Sauruman. He misses his son. He sees in Aragorn a better man than himself. He fears for his people. His strength flows raw from pure will and from no other, hidden, genetic or spiritual reserve.

He holds a special place for me in the cast of magnificent characters. His humaness touches me. As in the above quote, you constantly feel with Theodin the sense of amazement, fear, and labor accompanying his post as king of a bedraggled people.

This quote lays out the divide between man and office. Theodin is a man, getting dressed for battle. Has he done the right thing? Or, has he led his people to the slaughter? "Who am I?" He asks. Implied, "to be leading these people?" Gamlie's answer is remarkable for how discomforting it must have been. He doesn't point to anything virtuous in Theodin. He doesn't say, "Theodin, you were the prom king, the Varsity quarterback, held the best time in the mile, and were elected to the National Honors Society." Or, "Theodin, you've kept up a great exercise routine and are in the best shape of your life, make the best decisions, have published three books now appearing in sixteen languages, and helped stop polio in our age." He answers him with the very thing that troubles Theodin. "You are king." In essence, just as Theodin feared, you are nothing in yourself, but you are king all the same. It doesn't matter who you are, you're king.

I find myself struggling with Theodin-ish questions. "Who am I?" "Why should I be a shepherd of God's flock?" "What good am I?" I know myself. I know my faults. "Your servant is but a child, and this people is great." But the answer, as terrifying to me as it was to Theodin, comes back, "You are a pastor." It is as I feared. It is a calling. Sure some gifts were recognized, but don't think you stood out. You are here because Someone put you here. The office now defines your fitness. You cannot do the necessary things; but that doesn't matter. You must do them anyway.

Again, who is sufficient for these things? "Who am I, Gamlie?" No one is sufficient; but our sufficiency comes from God. "You are king, Sire." Pay close attention to yourself and to your teaching, for as you do this, you will ensure salvation both for yourself and for those who hear you.

Mr. and Mrs. Jones

Well, I'm not proud of it, but I finally saw an Angelina Jolie movie.

On the upside, we found a dollar theatre!

Although it was intellectually disatisfying, it was entertaining. I suppose I should say amusing, therefore. The foibles of marriage, post-honeymoon stage, appear extra ridiculous when played out by "the world's top two assassins."

The movie is remarkable for its acceptance of maritial fidelity. I would not recommend it, per se, but all things considered (Brad Pitt) that feature is noteworthy. Overall, 4 out of 4. It was better in some areas than I thought, but worse in others. It wasn't as skanky as I anticipated, but it was far more intellectually dishonest and unfulfilling.

"Your First Two Years in Youth Ministry," by Doug Fields

The book is a standard, the definitive guide to one's first two years. Fields emphasizes a personal spiritual walk, building relationships, growing leaders, patience, family, communication, and expectation management (Honeyrock's Highroad Wilderness Experience taught me about expectation management).

I mentioned previously that pastors should read this book too. All ministers should. There is little youth specific advice. Everyone has a book on how to be a pastor and how to be a better one, but no one has written, as far as I'm aware, about one's first two crucial years in the pastorate. I imagine their advice would sound much like Fields' advice, only less humorous and full of furious self-importance.

I'm going to try to have all the volunteers read it with me this year. I'd encourage you to read it, share it, buy it as a gift, and, for the sake of the kingdom, if you know someone thinking about going into youth ministry, or any ministry, tell them to buy this book and read it BEFORE they sign.

"Catch Me If You Can"

The show chronicles the misadventures of Frank Abingnale Jr., check fraud child prodigy, who wrangled over 5 million dollars (that's 1960's dollars mind you) from banks and other institutions. It is a sad movie. Frank comes from a broken home, a home seething with materialism-driven subterfuge and romantic idealism gone sour. He bolts when forced to pick a parent (it's a wonder more kids don't) and applies his natural charm and depravity to garnering other people's wages through passing bad checks and cheesy pick-up lines.

Morally the movie sends mixed messages. Negatively, the movie glamorizes life on the lam. Frank had more wine, women, and wild times in his late teen years than...than...well, than he ought to have had! It's glamorous.

And it's not. All Frank's activity is motivated, at least at the rationalization level, by the desire to reunite his parents. He thinks more Stuff will be the tide that rebinds. Several times he goes to his dad attempting to give him the wherewithall to bribe his mother back. Frank even makes his own go at marital bliss. He must flee though.

Frank: "You'd still love me, even if my name were different, wouldn't you, Brenda?"
Brenda: "What are you saying!" [blah blah, simper simper]
Frank: "Brenda, I'm not a doctor; I'm not a lawyer; I'm not an airline pilot; I'm not a Lutheran; I'm nothing but a scared kid who ran away from home a year and a half ago at the age of 16!"
Brenda: "You're not a Lutheran!" [badum chi]

Frank is hounded by the demons of a broken home and of a materialistic hope. He's also hounded by Carl Hanratty, who eventually brings him to justice.

The movie ends with redemption. I won't give it away, in case you haven't seen it yet. I don't know whether to recomend the movie or not; but I could. A good movie: multiple time viewing rating of 7 out of 7.

Mistyping the NAME

The ancient Hebrew scribes refused to speak the name of the LORD when they encountered it in the Old Testament text. Instead they would say, "Adoni," which is, "my Lord." Those same vowels (in Hebrew) became the vowels in the Lord's name when the Masorites pointed the text (put vowels in a voweless bible); thus, YAHWEH (it works, trust me).

When scribes went to write the NAME, they wrote it and then broke their stylus (writing utensil) in half. The stylus was holy. You shall not profane the Name of the Lord your God. This simple act kept before them the awesome terror of what they were doing. They revered and feared the Lord and so treated His name has holy.

I was just typing and accidently wrote "Gof." Sure, the "F" key is right next to the "D" key. And sure, the designation "God" is derived from the germanic tribes reached by the first Roman missionaries and has no inherent holiness as a word. Yet, that simple mistype sent a shudder through my heart. We are so careless with the name of the Lord. God, gosh, Jeeze, and further, more profane designations, pepper the vernacular. But I don't care to bemoan that old complaint. I want to draw your attention to the frivolity with which we write and type words that refer to the God of all the world. We must not take the Lord's Name in vain. We must not treat the Lord of glory with contempt by hurrying past Him in order to prepare our lessons, type our blogs, reply to our emails. We must revere the name of the Lord, to keep it holy. The keys of this keyboard stick. I've misspelled the Lord's Name several times in this posting. Lord, forgive me. Keep Him holy, friends. There is no one like Him, and He is jealous for His Name's sake.

Tall Trees, Tough Men

by Robert Pike

This "anecdotal history of New England logging" falls funny, shocking, and awe-inspiring. Pike researched well a subject close to his heart; he grew up in those northern woods. The recollections, tales, however far removed from the event, and lore mix with newspaper reports and other volumes on New England logging. This blend punches with both fists: the tales are incredible, but the facts bear them witness.

Can you imagine? Hack at a tree wider than you are tall and taller than some sky scrapers, with just an ax. Then, as unlikely as this may seem to you now, reading type on a computer monitor, when you have reached the center of this monster, hacking clean and straight, you step back, or rather jump a ways off, and stare in silence. Will it fall the direction you intended, or will it fall on you? A tree that big has arms, limbs, bigger than most trees with which you're now familiar. Should the wind and a knot conspire against you, you will be hard pressed to scurry clear of its wrath.

Or again, can you imagine STANDING ON A LOG FLOATING DOWN RAPIDS? The rivermen would surf down white water on the back of a log! If you've ever attempted getting out on a log, heck, even a raft, you know logs can be slick affairs, ever spinning and bobbing.

One must wonder, how can anyone still believe in evolution in view of such men. We could not have possibly evolved into such as we are from this! Ha! The converse movement is more plausible.

That such men lived troubles me somewhere in my core. The existence of such men in human history serves a rebuke to my soft, comfortable life. Surely I must be less, I must be lower than these. True; physical fortitude cannot sustain a tremulous heart, nor can remarkable strength, speed, or agility guide moral reasoning. But something great must have stirred in those men, to stand before those giants of trees, before the fury of those rapids, and grab a little ax, or jump on a stick of wood, and begin to hack, or bob and spin. Something great stirred in those men.

It was the image of God bubbling up in a resilient, fearless, reckless, peaceful joy in life that allowed no nay-saying. The tree is how large, you say? All the more joy! The log jam is how long, and the water how rough, you say? Then my pleasure has lengthened and deepened! But the risk, the risk. The risk? Nay, the latent-joy, joy in storage, hidden by acres of bark and buried within a foaming roar. Speak no more of risk or attempt to calm my passion with fear; I will have my joy, so get moving or get out of the way.

I think there is a lesson in this for Christians, but I'll leave it for you to extract.

Redemption Songs

Jar's has done it again. Redemption Songs is a beautifully scored rendition of classic hymns and songs of faith. Though not as inovative as I had hoped, it is a refreshing return to healthy lyrics.

It's hard to remember the days when everyone was wondering if Jars was a Christian group or not. That always struck me as ridiculous. It seemed to me that anyone who listened to their songs could not help but be confronted with Jesus. Yet the rumors swirled. I heard all sorts of libelous gossip: Jars got arrested for drug possession, Jars swears in their interviews (as if, for starters, either of those prove the trajectory of one's soul). But now here we are, Jars has matured far beyond their critics (hey, I know some of their critics personally). "Redemption Songs" lands with a weight of song and musical joy that ought to shut the mouths of all who hear and open their hearts in worship.