A Response

I have finally received some real criticism for my essay “The war and the War” and I desire now to respond to these arguments. Here is the response from the anonymous person:

Good points....but I have 2 remarks:

1) how do you respond to the statement, "if we try to negotiate with madmen, we will eventually have the bomb dropped on us, eventually killing us all."

2) People in America aren't necessarily against the doctrines of Christianity, but rather the institution of organized religion. In history, we have seen much corruption and evil committed by a Church-sponsored nation cloaked under the auspices of "We believe in Jesus Christ". What do you care if someone's gay? Why is it your job to control the sexual orientation of someone, even if it's completely caused through environment? The problem people have with the church is its elitist power trip that it feels the need to inform anyone outside of their own of what to do.

I’m glad the first argument raised was in the form of a question. I guess my primary concern with the question, however, is the statement itself. The statement presupposes a lot of things, and I will each of these that I noticed.

1) “if we try to negotiate…” This statement first argues that we have not tried to negotiate with madmen. It was my argument from the beginning that part of our problem is that we not only negotiated with madmen, but that we had decided to trust certain madmen with weapons and economic benefits. It would seem obvious to me that we ought to stop providing madmen with these materials and benefits, whether we “trust” them or not. As of now, no madman has proved capable of dropping “the bomb” on us, outside arguably North Korea.
2) The arguer seems to see negotiation as mere nit-picking and not an actual active process that could possibly have a positive outcome. To me, the statement seems to paraphrase as “If we complain to madmen about their madness, they will, in fact, go mad on us.” This is naturally a possibility, but it is not always the case. If you approach a sinner about his sinfulness, he could certainly repent.
3) Both of our arguments hinge on the assumption that we are in the right and the madmen are wrong. While we are far from perfect, I think we can agree that the madmen we are (or have not yet) confronting are much further than we.

In short, I am not sure how to reply to this response when I am not sure the point at which it is attempting to get. If it is trying to force me to abandon my position due to the threat of “the bomb,” it has failed. God is in control of his-story, so I do not fear anything of which He is in control.

The second argument is interesting. I would probably have to agree with most of the reader’s argument. I might even go a step further. Not only are people outside Christianity disappointed with the established church, but people inside are equally (if not more) disappointed. I will leave the discussion of the history of the church throughout history to someone who is much better prepared to offer historical examples (and I might suggest the reader to do the same). However, I will agree that the church throughout time has messed up. I’m sure if Christ were to speak to us directly today, he would express his disappointment with the church as a whole. As I see it, the church as too much interest in doctrine rather than attempting to “act justly, love mercy and walk humbly with [its] God.” (Micah 6:8)

However, to say that the church ought to keep out of the world’s business is slightly ludicrous. The reader asks, “What do you care if someone’s gay?” I care because that person has allowed his perverse desires to lead him into bondage with sin. It is not, however, my job to correct this behavior. It is not even my obligation. It is my job to love, to love my neighbor as myself; to dislike the behavior but not the man. I will say that homosexuality is wrong, but so is a man looking lustfully at a woman, or a boy coveting his friend’s new bike, or a man allowing his love of sports to control his life and in essence become his god. But my duty is to try to live as close a life to Christ as I can. To fear God and keep his commandments. To shun evil and love good.

The church at times has been overly judgmental. It has seen itself as self-righteous even, likening itself to the Pharisee praising God for not being as lowly as the tax collector. The church has a lot of work to do, I agree, but the God whom Christians profess is very real.

Thank you for responding!!

as personable as mold in an expired container of cottage cheese

Welcome everyone to Cooks Forest State Park! I am currently nestled into bed in the heart of Western PA “roughing it” with my family for the week. Now when I say “roughing it,” images of lean-to’s and cooking eggs on rocks come to my mind; but to the Constable family, “roughing it” is far from archetypal. For example, we are in a pop-up camper, complete with three beds, running water, electricity, and a refrigerator. There is a bathhouse roughly 50 yards away from our location and the nearest child molester is quite possibly merely a stone’s throw away. As part of this journey (and further subtracting from our “roughing it” score), I have brought my computer to catalogue the action daily to give my take on the trip, and quite possibly larger issues upon which I will have much time to ponder.

As you can tell, the Constable Family Vacation 2006 is not a glamorous cruise or a jaunt along a shoreline before sunset or even a thrilling mechanical ride that flings our bodies at mind-numbing speeds. We are in Cooks Forest State Park, home of trees, squirrels, rivers, sunshine and tornadoes. My mom says we’re “pathetic” for coming here. My sister is horrified to spend more than fourteen hours without seeing her beloved boyfriend. My dad is really just looking for some time off work. And I’m mixed in my motives for coming. Practically, I’m here to rest, read some books, and write. Beneath the surface, I’m hoping I’ll find tons of time to spend with God and loving family. This is as much a spiritual retreat as a physical getaway. So frankly, Cooks Forest State Park, offers very few distractions from my intended goals.

Today wasn’t too eventful. We packed up and were able to leave by 1pm and took the relatively short two-hour drive to the campground. After settling in and eating a generous portion of my mom’s famous sloppy joes, we had some family come up and visit. I was most thrilled by the little Frisbee I was able to play with my seventh-grade cousin. One of the things I miss about GCC is the ability to find someone to throw a Frisbee with you anytime and anywhere. That alone is worth the tuition. After they left, my family played some cards. My dad won, and once I started on the sorry trail towards defeat, I started to become a little sour. My competitive streak gets the best of me sometimes. It never really comes out in friendly games at school, but when I’m home, I guess I feel like I deserve to beat everyone. Unfortunately that everyone included my family today, and though it was annoying, we were able to laugh it off later.

Perhaps the best moment today was when a man in a golf cart approached our campsite with a question. Now previous to all of this, we discovered that our electricity was out. My mom brought a TV so she could watch Big Brother (admittedly, a great show, but I could live without it for a week), and she became upset during the process of locating the channel with the antenna when the TV’s power cut out. Minutes later, we discovered the problem was not our camper, but the campground. Back to the moment, we were all playing cards outside when the man in the cart asked, “Do you folks have power?” Not even waiting for the nice plump gentleman to complete his quaint sentence, everyone but myself shouted back, “NO!” in a somewhat bitter tone. The man took the hint and scootered off into the sunset while my parents shouted an apology for their obvious unintentional rudeness.

Tonight’s entry will end here since it is 1 am and my eyes are getting a bit droopy. I can’t believe I’m following a sweet essay on war with a nonsense summary of my family’s vacation. But I guess that’s the beauty of a blog: Anyone can publish anything – there doesn’t have to be a theme. So for those of you eagerly awaiting some startling new philosophy on life, look to the Bible, not me. That’s where you will find wisdom, precious precious wisdom, more valuable than the riches of the world…

Hugs and handpounds

~Break~

Vacations never last as long as expected. Five days off of work and time to spend reading the Word and spending time with family and resting seems like a really long time, especially since a single day off work in itself is incredibly relaxing. But this vacation, though half complete now, seems like it’s almost over. Well, enough trying to attract pity, on with the show.

Day two started like every other vacation day in Constable history: late. I am merely guessing, but I assume that most families on vacation are out and about by 10 am. Psht, if you came to our camper at 10 am with all the intentions off immediately rushing off into town we would wearily ask you who in our family has been rushed to the hospital or if the campground has suddenly has caught fire. We greet the morning sun at 10:30 am and are usually not ready to do anything of real structure until noon. A despicable time, I realize, but a reality.

So yesterday we woke up at our usual late time, had our usual breakfast, and decided to go for a nice scenic horseback ride through the forest. Alright, easy enough. Well what we projected to be a one-and-a-half-hour jaunt turned into an outrageous three-hour adventure. Most of our extended family lives in the region we are staying in this week, so we thought it hospitable to invite my grandfather out to spend a day with us. Unfortunately, we had not made plans as to when he would visit us and told him that we would call him with the arrangements. Cooks Forest State Park is a cellular black hole. We tried as hard as we could to get a signal as we drove down the road towards the horse stable to call my grandfather, but not one of our four cell phones picked up enough signal to dial. What was most frustrating was my mom giving us an update every time the amount of bars she possessed changed. Here I transcribe a snippet of conversation during this too real car ride:

Dad: Alright, anyone have anything yet?
Breanna: Nope, no service.
Mom: I got one bar!
Tyler: Nah, I keep going in and out of serv…
Mom: Oh, no service…wait, two bars!
Dad: Should we stop?
Mom: Wait, no service again…
Tyler: Maybe we should just wait until we get to Brookville to call (it’s only eight miles away)
Breanna: How come we don’t turn around where we had two bars?
Tyler: It doesn’t work like that around here. Signal changes like the wind.
Mom: Yeah, one bar.
Dad: There’s the horse place there
Breanna: Why didn’t we stop?!
Mom: We have to call grandpa!
Dad: Brookville is right next to I-80, we’ll have signal there...
Mom: Ooo! Three bars!
Dad: You want to…
Mom: Oh wait, no service
Breanna: Go back to the place we had signal!
Tyler: Mom, why don’t you call as soon as you see you have signal?
Dad: We’ll be in Brookeville soon…
Breanna: Just go back! It’ll rain before we get to ride horses!
Tyler: Why don’t you…
Dad: I’M NOT TURNING BACK!
Tyler: I’m not talking to you! MOM, call when you get any signal!
Breanna: Why don’t we turn back!
Dad: Here…we’re in Brookville
(Everyone exits and makes phone calls, then gets back into car)
Dad: Who’s up for ice cream?
Tyler and Breanna: ME!

The horseback ride itself was interesting. The man running the stable made about nine too many sexually-charged statements and seemed to have a hobby in collecting jokes directed against women. For example, what’s the difference between a woman and a Pit-bull? A Pit-bull doesn’t wear lipstick. Yeah. So anyway, our guide was about as personable as mold in an expired container of cottage cheese, which made the trip slightly less exciting. My horse’s saddle had the name Onyx upon it (coincidentally the 66-point Scrabble word that clinched my victory over Erica last week), but was later told that his name was Junkyard, and I couldn’t have had a better horse. My thesis on horses is as follows: They are tremendously majestic creatures that are incredibly beautiful and strong (and probably trustworthy); however, they remain animals, and by that I mean that they are not humans and not as predictable. I realize that a well-trained horse will act however the trainer wants it to 99.9% of the time, but every time I mount one of these amazing animals, I can’t help but notice how inferior physically I am to it. That man has been able to subdue the horse is enough of a miracle in my book. In short, I mean to say that I find horses terrifying because of their brute strength, but so amazingly crafted by God that I cannot help but be attracted to them. Anyone who makes a living off caring for these magnificent beasts has my utmost respect. The trip in itself was pretty cool. My horse kept running into the horse in front of me (probably my fault, but can’t they see!?). It was also the only horse not to shamelessly relieve itself or attempt to snatch a snack off the nearest tree. When I nudged him right, he went right, and when I pulled back, he stopped. Junkyard was a gem, and I thanked him kindly afterwards for the scenic adventure (and for not pulverizing me).

Day Three was slightly more and slightly less eventful. First the slightly more… We planned on taking a canoe trip down the Clarion River on Tuesday. I use the word “planned” loosely, for we merely penciled it into our schedule of things to do that day. Planning would have meant research. But we did things our way, and that meant waking up at our usual time and eating our usual breakfast and meandering about getting ready to depart before eventually making it The Pale Whale Canoe Fleet at 1 pm. My dad exited the car to get some preliminary details and returned quite enraged. The only trips offered after noon were four miles long, only a 90 minute journey. Needless to say, our plan for the entire day was destroyed. We were pretty disappointed (some of us more than others), but immediately tried to do something else on what turned out to be the most pleasant day of the week (in regards to the weather). So instead of asking our grandfather to come out Wednesday as “planned,” we called him to request that he come out that evening. He couldn’t, so we spent the day lounging around camp relaxing. I didn’t complain; in fact, going into the vacation, I figured that we would have free time most of the time, so I was able do some reading. We went out to eat that night, and I got sick from the meal, and I won the nightly card game (Texas Hold’em), and all in all, it was a great day.

Day Four started out much differently. We were determined not to sleep away our final opportunity to go on a decently-sized canoe trip, so we woke up at the unheard of time of 7:30 am and ate a quick breakfast. We were at the Pale Whale by 8:45; it opened at 9:00. After some awkward small-talk with an unfortunate nearby staffer, we gathered our rented paddles and PFDs and piled into the van and trucked up the river. Our driver tried his best to chat with us, but eventually we ran out of questions to ask complete strangers that you have no intention of seeing again. I do, however, remember that he attends PSU-Behrend, a member of the PAC, Grove City’s athletic conference. Why Behrend does not call itself PSU-Erie is beyond me. Before the name change, Erie was probably the best branch campus option; after the change, I’d have to lean towards Altoona or DuBois, just because they’re fun to say.
Anyway, the canoe trip was great. My mom and I manned the first canoe while my dad, lovingly nicknamed the Pale Whale due to his choice to be shirtless and shamelessly pale, and my sister paddled along in the other canoe. The Clarion River has an average depth of three feet, which is actually the deepest it has been in a while. If there were a canoe trip designed for people afraid of water, this was it because one could see the bottom of the river wherever one traveled. Things were frustrating at the start since few of us ever had paddling experience (especially with my canoe since my mom and I seemed to always be undoing what the other would do), but once we got a few miles in the trip, we were able to relax more and take in the scenery. We finished the trip faster than the average time, which surprised us, and left the Pale Whale (the canoe fleet, that is) feeling much better than we had Tuesday.

My grandfather came up that night, which was good. We spent the last part of the night relaxing and reminiscing before we had a huge chicken fajita feast that night. I forgot to mention before that we had brought along a TV. My relationship with the television has deteriorated since going to college. I have done some reading, and some thinking, and some more reading, and while I do not feel like outlining an entire position against the overindulgence in TV, I mean to say that TV is definitely something I can live without. My mom, on the other hand, loves the TV. I can’t blame her, nor do I judge her, for I, too, waste my time on various other things. So we brought the TV with the slim hope that we could pick up the signal to watch our favorite primetime shows. It just so happens that our campsite had full cable hookup capabilities! While I may have went a little overboard with my comments on how watching TV wasn’t really camping, I eventually gave in and watched Big Brother (such a good (yet trashy) show). That night, we also played 500 Rummy. I’ve played a few games of Rummy in my day, but this was not only the greatest game I’ve ever played, but quite possibly the greatest game in the history of the game. Every player led at one point and everyone had had their highs and lows (except me. I was slow and steady picking up about 50 points a hand and being the one who goes out before everyone else). Nevertheless, we came to the final hand with everyone within striking distance of the necessary 500 point goal. In the final hand, every single card, every single one of the possible 500 points, was played. The result was that every player scored over 500 points, my sister hitting 500 exactly, and my dad scoring 545 points. It was amazing. I’m sure you’re sharing in the excitement.

As I write, I am home participating in a free online poker tournament. There were 16500 entrants and I am now one of 9035 remaining in the tournament. That may explain why my style has been shoddy throughout the latter part of this entry. I hope to write a wittier, lengthier entry soon. I pray that you all are making the most of every day. We ought to be using every precious God-given breath for His glory.

The war and the War

Hello hello! Last night was the 230th birthday of our great nation! Though we have many problems and are a nation divided, I am still reminded of what it means to live in the freest country in the world. Those who say we are not free are foolish. We have freedoms people all over the world would die to obtain. As a Christian-American, I do not have to fear persecution unto death on a regular basis.

The war and the War

Version 2.0

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails."

~1 Corinthians 3:4-8

Imagine 55,000 people killed every year for something in which they believe. We can hardly fathom this being possible in America due to our numerous freedoms, but it’s happening to one group of people you may not expect: Christians.

According to a recent study, 55,000 Christians are persecuted on average annually. It is an impressive figure and one I decided to compare to the death toll in the current Iraq war. Since the war started on March 20, 2003, a total of 2539 American soldiers have died. But I must take it further, for American lives are no more precious than Iraqi lives; to exclude all others killed by the war would be an injustice. According to Iraqi Body Count, around 40,000 civilians have died. Though sources vary (greatly) on the following figure, approximately 10,000 additional Iraqi insurgent troops and police/guards have died in the conflict. In short, in the nearly 40-month war in Iraq, around 53,000 people have lost their lives in the name of war, 75% of whom never picked up a weapon.

Every year, more Christians are killed than the amount killed in the present 40-month Iraq war. Taking the per-month average and multiplying it by 40 months, 183,333 have died in that span, nearly three-and-a-half times that of the Iraq war. 183,333 Christians killed for proclaiming Christ as their Savior, for adhering to the Great Commandment, for praying for those less fortunate than they, for building churches, for feeding the poor, for clothing the naked, for nurturing the sick, for visiting those imprisoned, for giving drink to the thirsty, for essentially adopting children and caring for their every need, for knowing the Almighty God.

There are clearly two kinds of war that we wage today. The first war, the war against Iraq and “terrorism” (as if one can destroy an idea with bombs), is a war that must cease. I have heard enough of the showy politicking: a war for “liberation”, “freedom”, “security”. I am probably not a good Grove City Republican (though I have no political affiliation) in writing this, but this is what I know: that war, an expression of hatred, can never and will never be more effective than peace, an expression of love. And what is “effective”? It is simple; our goal is peace, and the only way to achieve peace is to practice peace. War cannot breed peace, as hatred can never breed love. Only love will do. Jesus said, “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you.” (cf. Luke 6:27) These words are not accepted today as applicable, but they must be.

The war apologist is shouting, “What of the attacks? What of the terrorists? Do you not remember the Towers and the anguish of that day? They capture our soldiers and kill them without remorse! They want to kill us all and then hang our bodies naked in the streets! Do you seriously suggest that we lay back and let them build armies and bombs to destroy us all?!” They are all valid questions and what they assume is probably correct. They want us dead and will do whatever they have to do to wreck havoc on us all. “Why?” seems like a logical question to ask. I don’t have an answer, or even any concrete guesses, but it seems like a great question to propose. Also, the use of revenge as a reason for war (and ultimately, to end all wars, as it has been said) will never result in peace. Wendell Berry writes, “The logic of retribution implies no end and no hope. If I kill my enemy, and my brother kills his brother, and so on and on, we may all have strong motives and even good reasons; the world may be better off without all of us…The essential point is an ancient one: that to be peaceable is, by definition, to be peaceable in time of conflict…It is not passive. It is the ability to act to resolve conflict without violence...In the face of conflict, the peaceable person may find several solutions, the violent person only one.” (Wendell Berry, Peaceableness Toward Enemies in Sex, Economy, Freedom & Community, 86-87) Dead-on words. I enjoy reading the essays of Berry, but in writing this essay, I could not help but be reminded of this passage. Killing only leads to more killing; and no matter how “prominent” or “dangerous” a madman is, there are always more madmen in the making. As I understand it, there are plenty more madmen scheming about how best to destroy the world; we seem only to be unconcerned with the madmen we can trust (probably through some economic exchange, but I merely hypothesize).

But Berry’s greatest contribution is that peaceableness is not passive and it is not intermittent; it is active (even assertive) and constant. It is something that must be true during war and peace. And it is more than a process; it is an attitude, a conviction even. It is being patient, kind, content, humble, gentle, charitable, quick to be merciful, slow to anger, protective, trusting, hopeful and perseverant. (cf. 1 Cor. 3:5-8)

We have not been a peaceable country in the past, but we can start. If there were any country that would have the greatest impact in taking the first steps to peace, it would be the United States. We have the most weapons and enough nuclear bombs to kill millions in a second. We also possess the greatest economic influence and can stop supplying our trusted madmen with weapons to later turn against us (or others). If we truly are the greatest, freest nation in the world, we must take the greatest, freest step imaginable in working towards peace. I do not endorse disarmament or the destruction of nuclear warheads or the dissolution of the military. I merely endorse a philosophy that has been and will always be: Love.

As for the current war in Iraq, I can only mirror the statement made by Jeannette Rankin, the first woman ever elected to Congress and the only person to vote against World War I, World War II, and the Vietnam War, concerning her plan for Vietnam: “boats…lots of boats.” Bring our soldiers home. A man with a gun to his head will obey orders to be peaceable, but only when the gun is removed can the foundations for true peace begin to be laid. Stop the death. Stop killing the innocent. Stop killing the children. Come home.

The second is the true War, and the one we have been fighting from the beginning of time. It is the War spoken of in Genesis 3:15:

“And I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and
hers; he will crush your head, and you will strike his heel.”

The words are from God to the serpent that tempted Eve into sinning in the Garden. The verse here sets the stage for the rest of history; it designates two seeds or lineages, the seed of the snake and the seed of the woman. God says that the two seeds will hate each other, but ultimately, the seed of the woman will prevail (Christ’s victory over sin and death on the Cross, as well as Christ’s return to destroy Satan once and for all). It is God’s first action on the path to Christ, since man has now fallen and is in need of a Savior. It is also God’s first statement of setting aside his people. Throughout the Old Testament, both the seed of the woman and the seed of the serpent clash (i.e. Abel/Cain, Jacob/Esau, Israelites/Pharaoh, etc). Satan’s rule over death and sin ultimately ended on the Cross on which Jesus Christ died. The clash was not complete, however, because man still sinned and the world in which he lived was sinful. The battle, or War as I will call it, continued through the New Testament and continues today.

Want proof? 55,000 Christians die every year for recognizing themselves as part of the seed of the woman, one of the Children of God. Christians, when not persecuted, are laughed at for believing in something the world cannot see and scorned upon for trying to spread the so-called love of Christ. In America, Christianity, the bedrock of this country when it was founded 230 years ago, has been expelled from schools, removed from nearly all political decisions, and trampled upon by our perverse sins, i.e. homosexuality. Christianity, according to today’s culture, is anti-intellectual, unnatural, superstitious and hypocritical. It seems like as time marches on and the War becomes more intense that Christianity is losing the battle.

But it is not, and it will not. Statistically, Christianity is experiencing phenomenal growth outside the Western World. The number of Christians in Latin America has doubled since 1970, with the amount in Asia and Africa tripling in size during that same period. Annually, Christianity grows 1.25%, despite the 55,000 Christians persecuted and petty attempts by the seed of the serpent to win the War in this world.

The final victory belongs to Christ and the seed of the woman. God has never backed out on a promise before, and being an unchanging, everlasting God, he cannot. Each one of those 55,000 Christians live by the words of Mark 1:15: “’The time has come,’ [Jesus] said. ‘The kingdom of God is near. Repent and believe the good news!’” They know the words of Paul: “For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” (Phil. 1:21) They have fought the peaceable War: they have loved their enemies, blessed they that curse them, done good things for those that hate them, and prayed for they which despitefully use and persecute them (cf. Luke 6:27). The War they fought was one they were guaranteed to win. Though they, like a person in war, have died being peaceable, they know that “when a peaceable person is killed, peaceableness survives.” (Berry, 88) They have found the greatest weapon of all, and it is astoundingly not made of radioactive explosives or toxic poisons. They have discovered love, love received from the Father, and go out to all the corners of the earth boldly proclaiming God’s perfect Message in full knowledge that “love never fails.” (1 Cor. 13:8)

~fin~

That took a really long time to write, but probably the essay about which I am most passionate. let me know what you think! Pray for those facing persecution. Pray for this war. Pray for the persecutors, and our enemies, and your enemies. The time is near, there's no time for hatred.

And my bubble will be here in the morning

Hello friends! I hope you are having a terrific, restful day today. I’ve been so busy this week with work and hanging out with friends that I haven’t made the time for rest. It is such an important, overlooked part of life. It is especially important in living the Christian life because it is when we are most fatigued and most weary that we become most vulnerable to sin. I’ve rested a lot today, and I don’t regret any bit of it. My guitar and I finally had some good times together (as I wrote that I picked it up again and played for half and hour).

Yesterday was officially JOP 4. While the meaning of the letters JOP are reserved to the knowledge of official JOP members only, I can tell you that it is a gathering of some sweet people who became super good friends at the end of their senior year last night (some might admit, unexpectedly). We were originally going to go to Toronto for a sweet road trip, but some parental issues and probably planning issues were a bit in question, so we settled ultimately on my backyard (very close to Toronto). All in all, it was a really cool time. We (Roland, Erica, Rebecca, myself) went out to TGI Fridays first and had an exquisite meal as I had to step out every so often to call a leader in the youth group to make sure things were still on for the night. As the lesson-planner originally scheduled for the night backed out, I stepped in and filled the lesson-presenting vacancy, unfortunately on the day I had set aside two weeks ago for the JOP. Regardless, the meal was fantastic and Roland and I had a good (nerdy) time making our tips out so that our total credit bill would be on a whole dollar while Erica reluctantly defended herself and her pseudo-lover (not really). I had called her the night before to iron out a few details for the day, and she said at 10:00 that she was actually on her way out the door and didn’t tell me where she was going. Hence, I dubbed her hously departure a Booty Call and demanded details at dinner. It was what I guessed it was, a reunion encounter with a kid that lives on her street. Not as shady as I thought. I guess beforehand we went to see Superman Returns. If you’re sitting at the computer now with wallet/purse/money clip/cash money yeah yeah yeah/Hamilton in your hand ready to go deposit it into the bank of your local movie theater to see the 157 minute show, don’t. I can’t say that I would pay to see it again. They should call the movie Lois Lane Has Issues because the film revolves around her, rather than the too-super, characterless Superman. The previews that center around the action scenes showcase about all you’ll want to see in the movie. No real fight scenes to speak of, alas. Before the movie, Roland, Erica and I went to Sheetz to buy stuff to smuggle into the theater. We spent entirely too much time there, but the most memorable part was Erica ushering me back arm-in-arm to the back of the store just to show me that there was a refrigerator door with the name Tyler on it. She busted out laughing, knowing that there isn’t any real legitimate reaction to expect from seeing such a door, and she commenced to say that my parents named me after a door that hadn’t existed yet 19 years ago in Allentown, PA. After the movie and dinner, I went to youth group while the rest of the crew went home to relax and medicate themselves (quite literally, for everyone seemed to have a headache). We rejoined at my house, where we had a quaint little campfire started purely off of gasoline, motor oil, charcoal starter fluid, ink-saturated pieces of newspaper, sloppy joe grease, oh, and a lighter. After three wicked tumors and a hole in the ozone, we had a nice time around the campfire, where I brought up my language ideas again and still found too much opposition. After the usual campfire stuff, Rebecca left because of her illness (probably from too much Roland…or toxic fumes) leaving the Three Musketeers behind for the night. We played a few games of pool, then relaxed for a bit in the hottub before swimming in the pool. It was here that we concocted a series of ridiculous races and competitions, with me (naturally) being the overall champion of the world (for there were three countries represented between us). After we battled a million bugs at the doorway back into the house and resumed our posts in the basement, Erica knocked herself out, leaving Roland and me to play FIFA world cup all night (from 4-6 am). It was quite extraordinary. All in all, a good night, and now I’m friendless (or so it seems) for 2 weeks as Roland is gone to Korea for the summer and Erica departs for Ireland and other random European spots for 2 weeks. Sigh.

I didn’t mean for that to be that long, because I wanted to say something a little more amusing and worth reading outside the four people involved in the JOP. My parents received new cards from our health insurance providers today, only to discover that they neglected to include one for me. Befuddled, my mom called the money-guzzling company and inquired about the missing health card. They told her quite bluntly that I am not insured. Once I had turned 19 and entered college, apparently my parents were supposed to fill out some form to include me in the plan (which they had), but the company didn’t process it, leaving me uninsured since my birthday in November. Thankfully I haven’t died or broken any limbs! My parents, always psychoticly cautious, then informed me that I am not to be injured until July 1, the date I become insured again. They didn’t want me to drive. They didn’t want me doing any sort of physical activity that I could get injured. Regardless, they let me drive tonight to Barnes and Noble to renew my membership and buy a Neil Postman book, The Disappearance of Childhood. The funniest part though was that I had to tag along with my dad and my sister to drop her off at a friends house for the night so that I could pick up my car from the garage (don’t get me started on my car). My sister has her permit, so she usually drives in these sorts of situations. Once my dad realized that I was in the back seat, he ordered my sister out of the driver’s seat so that he could drive and keep me safe. Once on the road, my dad sarcastically barked, “Is your seat belt on tight.” I nodded and quipped, “And my bubble will be here in the morning.” All in all, good family time. But I really can’t afford to die until Saturday. After that, I might drive on the left-hand side of the road or see if swallowing dishwasher detergent really is harmful. I’m not too concerned though. Quite frankly, I always have my health and life insurance with me at all times, and that is Christ, for if I am injured, he is with me, and if I die, I am with him.

I’ve been missing school a lot lately. I can’t wait to go back in the fall. I can’t wait to see all of my friends and get back to the routine of studying. Year one of the “best years of my life” was amazing; I expect year two to be all the more amazing.

For the record, this is my second consecutive entry written before midnight (accepts applause). Have a great day everyone, and God bless.

Later Days!

On Christians and Atheists: Part I

Hello all! I hope your day is coming along just splendidly. I am in-between a double-shifted workday today and have decided to use my three hours of downtime to transcribe and post a few of the essays I have written recently. They are slightly more polished than the previous ones, but are still definitely in rough draft mode (especially if I were to turn them in as Edwards papers). Nevertheless, these first three essays are more on the atheist side of the coin, with the first and third parts having a more apologetic approach, and the second piece with a more critiquing angle. I hope they give you something to think about. I must admit that I am most proud of the third piece, for I have never thought about the origin and progression of language before until I wrote this essay, so all the glory goes to God for such profound thoughts (at least, they were profound at the time for me). Here we go...

On Christians and Atheists

Part One

I. God Made Nature Beautiful

How can God not exist? How can one not admit that, as seen in nature, there is a power greater than he? When a man gazes upon a pristine sunrise over a ocean, an image more majestic than any masterpiece, does he not feel an Artist at work? When he looks upon rolling mountains packed with trees of a billion shades of green against the sunlit sky, does he not appreciate the vastness and beauty of this unadulterated land? When clouds break up the sun’s omnipotent light into a thousand beams, scattering them onto the hills, houses, and people below, does one not ponder that another being is trying to touch us?

You say, It is all science. You say, the sunrise over the ocean is merely the refraction of light, and if we really wanted to, we could use our hi-tech computers to predict what the sunrise will look like tomorrow (as if the flight of seagull or the foam of a wave were predictable and able to be represented perfectly on a screen!)

Or you say, It is of necessity that nature exists, because without it, man could not survive. You claim that because humans live, it is necessary for nature to be the way it is, because if nature were different, we wouldn’t be the same creature. Therefore, the sun must rise and trees must be green and clouds must even sometimes scatter light. You may be right in those cases, but it does not capture the essence of the argument. It may be necessary for the sun to rise, but the sun must not rise beautifully. That a sun must rise to sustain life is irrefutable. But that a sun must shine light against an early morning sky and bounce light off at various angles and multitudes to the eyes of an onlooker is not necessary, but it is beautiful.

Whether we accept it or not, the issue returns to man and his construction. It is necessary for man to live under the sun, and one could argue that it is necessary for man to have the ability to see, but what, dear reader, makes man see beautifully? Why does man stand as the lone appreciator of nature? Why can man, along all the beasts, see the sunrise over the ocean as beautiful?

It is not of necessity that man sees beautifully, for man depends not on beauty to survive and sustain. Man was made to see beautifully because the Maker made a creation worth appreciating as beautiful. God made Creation not only to be useful, but to be beautiful. It is God’s way of saying, “I am pleased with what I have made; appreciate it with me!” That we see the sunrise, the tree-clad mountains, the sun-scattered landscape, the clear night sky and the eagle’s majestic flight as beautiful is not necessary, but a gift. It is the gift of communion with the unseen Creator, God.

“The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.” ~Psalm 19:1

II. A Battle for Nothing

If it is true, as atheists believe, that there is no God (or as agnostics believe, that it is impossible for man to know God), then why do they spend so much time and effort arguing against something that does not exist? Because there is nothing there in their eyes, they cannot be said to be fighting for anything.

It is as if they are telling a young boy that Santa Claus does not exist and then becoming offended when the young boy tells him that there is. And they do not get angry in the way one gets angry as if he is the only sane man on earth; they get angry in the way one gets angry as if what he is up against will annihilate his way of life if it is not destroyed. It is the killing of Santa Claus for fear that if enough people actually believe in him, the world will start wearing red velvet suits and pointed shoes with bells on the toes to work and expect everyone else to do so. He is fighting against what is to him, a fairy tale.

If the atheist or agnostic cannot be fighting for anything and against a mere fairy tale, what is the purpose of fighting at all? If God is merely a fairy tale created my man, what’s the harm in letting Christians believe in him; after all, eventually every kid “comes to his senses” and stops believing in Santa Claus, why not God?

The opposite side is this: Christians have something worthy for which to fight. For if they are correct about the existence and reality of God (and they are), there is a burden placed upon them. They have the truth; they realize that Jesus Christ is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, and that no one enters God’s promised Kingdom of Heaven except through belief in his death for man’s sins and resurrection to authenticate his claims. They know and posses what many men strive to obtain their entire lives but fall painfully short: the Truth. If Christians are correct, how ultimately important it is for Christians to talk to the atheist or agnostic (in love, of course, since that is something Christians have, or ought to have, given that “God is love.”) in the saving of their soul. Christ came “to seek and to save what was lost,” and every Christian has that same call to spread the Message of eternal life in Heaven with the world.

In summation, the Christian has everything to fight for; the atheist has nothing but the satisfaction of being right (that is, until he dies).

III. The Phenomenon of Language

How does the atheist explain the phenomenon of language? This question, perhaps above all, stumps me. How is it that man has developed such a vast array of languages if it were not at Babel as described in the Scriptures?

The first conjecture one would make is that language is a product of a region or civilization. While it is true that languages are spoken in regions, it does not make languages products of those regions. Sure, the Eskimos have thirty names for snow, but it is not the snow itself that makes the Eskimos have so many names for it. People living in Japan are likely to speak Japanese, but the oddly-shaped island never made them do it. The idea that geography dictates language is silly. I may depend on an apple to live, but the apple never introduced itself to me.

Thus, the second conjecture: language is simply a product of evolution. On the surface, this seems reasonable. Man needed the ability to communicate more information to describe its surrounding and other life-essential things and thus created a series of sounds to symbolize these things. But what, dear reader, makes the sound systems, these languages, so different? If we are all human, as I can assume we are, then are we not all built the same? All healthy, breathing people have the ability to speak. If we were all crafted in the same image (and for Christians, that image is God), then we ought to have evolved the same; that is, if language is a product of evolution, we ought to have developed the same language. Our minds and bodies are the same, so our instinct (if it can be called that) to speak would be the same, and the language we create should also be the same according to this theory.

The problem is this: there are too many and too different languages in the world today. If you’re still on the evolution bandwagon, let me offer you a situation. If man started in Mesopotamia (for example), then man’s first language was universal. As the land became more populated, people spread and encountered new things and these new things needed new words. So man created them. As time went on, man created more words for more things, but by now, there need be no further explanation for I can make my point here and now. Man started with a universal language; and as time expired, he took the freedom of creating new words. Cultures and peoples used these words, but they merely adapted their previous language base in doing so. In other words, if man started with a universal language base, there ought to be some evidence of it. But there is not. Linguists can prove that some languages are “related” to others, but they have not discovered an Alpha-language.

And they will not. Evolution cannot and will never explain why languages are so diverse. No matter how long something is drawn out over a seemingly infinite period of time, it does not make a thing any less miraculous; nor does it provide an explanation for the facts. A fact is that German, Japanese, Afrikaan, and English are incalculably diverse. No span of time can explain the changes in words, sounds, and sentence structure exhibited by these languages. No linguist can trace these languages to the Alpha-language. It seems as if only a super-human force could have caused such a multitude of languages.

There is a much better answer to our predicament. The third and final conjecture can be the only true one. It states that man did once possess one universal language and a common speech; and then encountered one jealous super-human force that changed the course of speech forever. The story is that of Babel as explained in Genesis 11. Man had one language; but then sought to become like God and reach heaven. Their vision was to build a tower larger than that the world has ever seen, but their motive was prouder. They sought equality with God. They desired the ability to boast that they could do all things without God. After all, it is the oldest sin in the book, dating back to Adam and Eve, and their craving for the knowledge of God. God knew that the people’s universal language was what was uniting them to this cause – so he “confuse[d] their language so they [could] not understand each other” (Gen. 11:7).

Babel fulfills both of our logical requirements: first, that man had developed a universal language; and second, that something greater than man had to have made such a vast assortment of languages with seemingly no relation to each other. The one-then-many through evolution hypothesis fails the second requirement, for mere geography or time could not have made language so diverse. Only God could have created such a queer mix of symbolic sounds for such a queer creature, and I can but smile knowing God put our mouths into such a curious mess.

~end part one~

On The Marriage Protection Amendment

A few weeks ago, my first couple weeks back from school, I had heard all of this glorious dialogue about a Marriage Protection Amendment. I am not even sure of my opinion, and I will give the following arguments for my indecision.

First, I believe that same-sex marriage is an obvious assault on the institution of marriage. Biblically speaking, marriage is between a man and a woman. Additionally, homosexuality is a sin (Rom. 1:26-27). That’s further from the point. The family is the basic foundation of any society. A basic family is a mother, father, and their children. If it can be broken down further, it may be said that sex (respectably used), is the foundation of family, for families could not exist without sex. The qualification of that statement deserves an essay itself, but that will wait for another time. Families have been damaged by the improper and disrespectful abuse of sex. To “fix” the problem (that is defining the problem as that of families and not of the abuse of sex), society has attempted to redefine the family, or at least what is left of it. It should go without saying that families today are in the worst shape they have ever been. Divorce and single-parenthood (including absentee parenthood) are at an all-time high and a traditional family is not too traditional anymore. Our perversion has led to an increased interest in same-sex relationships based on a confused view of sex. Instead of checking our definition of sex, we have attempted to redefine family, and thus the attack on marriage. Marriage is between a man and a woman; don’t shape the definition of family around your wicked desires.

Second, I am quite sure that governments should not be the ones attempting to redefine marriage. While the definition sounds like the Christian (and correct) definition, I firmly believe that government should not see themselves as able to protect marriage, for doing so would mean the government has the authority over marriage, which it does not. The only solutions are local solutions. No problem will ever be fixed completely by government legislation, it takes the actions of individuals, families, and communities for any real progress to be made. Marriage, no matter how much legislation protects it, will never be safe as long as sex remains to be practiced outside of it. Is this saying that marriage will never be safe? On this earth, probably. But individuals and families can influence communities to practice love inside the institution created by love.

On another note, I often wonder why atheists or agnostics marry. If they don’t believe in God, who created marriage, then why would they indulge in joining into them? It must be purely for economic or social status reasons, but that is pure cowardice.

Okay, I’m done. It was fun. Hope to hear what you think!

Later Days!!

Update

I didn't want to leave the world wondering what I'm doing with all my time - or frankly, the lack of it - so this will be an uncharacteristically short post.

I spend time doing the following things, and this is a pathetically comprehensive list:

1. Work: My jobs own me. When I'm there, it's not that bad, but it's just the times that I work that makes it bad. For example, I could work four days in a row alternating 5-6 hour day/night shifts, and then work 8-hour shifts on Friday, Saturday and Sunday from, say, 12-8. It's horrible because I don't have a consistent time to plan on doing anything else and it's hard for people to contact me if they so desire. The work is okay, I just need some stability.
2. Sleep: Whether sleep or work has consumed more time is a tossup, but days that I don't work until the afternoon, good luck seeing me conscious before noon. Mmm, sleep.
3. Reading/Writing: I've read some Wendell Berry and G.K. Chesterton this summer so far, and it has been uber-sweet. I've always been a fan of writing (as I hope these entries can prove) and thus have been writing a few essays and thoughts down with the intent of eventually making them a little more concrete and understandable. For example, the last entry with those two short essays are examples of things I've been doing. I'm writing an extended piece called On Christians and Atheists at the moment. It has been a pretty rewarding experience just to think about the utter basics of the world and everything in it. I originally was going to transcribe the essays onto this site tonight, but I work tomorrow morning and have to sleep very soon. Anyway, I hope the essays will be thought-provoking at the least, and perhaps God can show me things I never would have thought of as I continue to ponder the basics of life, the Christian, and the atheistic or agnostic mind.
4. Random adventures with JOPers:For those of you who don't know, JOPers are some amazing friends from high school in the journalism program that really bonded towards the end of last school year and last summer. We've been like peas and carrots this summer, hanging out sometimes 3-4 times a week, but recently has tapered off to a time or two per week, given hectic work schedules and Erica hanging out with a person not to be named (that's actually not a legit reason, but I want to poke fun at her, you see).
5. CALLNET: Like the name or not, its my only link (outside Facebook) that I've had with Grovers, and I have really enjoyed it. Perhaps I shall outline my reasons for not using AIM anymore in a later essay, but it has really been great to hear people's voices and to hear them laugh and get excited when telling me about their lives so far this summer. If there are any CALLNETers out there, keep it up! We still have two months to go!
6. World Cup: I'm not much of a soccer fan, but when it comes to the World Cup, I LOVE IT. I watch way too much of it when I should be sleeping. Enough said.

As sad as that is, that's a pretty exclusive list of the things I've been doing. Next week, some JOPers are hopefully going on an overnight camping trip somewhere to hang and gell like fellons with melons.

If you get the chance, pray for me. I'm going through some hard times now that I'd rather not discuss here, but pray that I can find my joy in Christ and not the world. I've started to dig a hole and I think I'm at the point where I realize only God can pull me out. I would appreciate it.

Later Days!

A Call For Beasts To Teach Men

I’m back! Now I didn’t see any comments in the box from my last post, but I am just assuming that people are too shy to post or they were too paralyzed by my hilarity to mechanically type a comment onto the screen. I prefer the latter, but if the former is the case, I so encourage you to leave something just so I know you visited. If I am merely talking to myself, then perhaps it was worth it.

I worked a few days at Pretzel Gourmet, went to dinner and a movie with Roland and Erica, and got to talk to a few people from Grove City in the past week. Other than that, I’m doing some reading at the moment. I’m in the middle of three books, which seems like a daunting task (okay it is), but I’m managing quite well. Since they’re all nonfiction books, it makes things a bit easier. The first book I started is by my favorite author, G.K. Chesterton, entitled The Everlasting Man. Most Chesterton fans argue that it is his greatest apologetic, so I figured I’d give it a shot. The second book is by my second favorite author and philosophic mentor, Wendell Berry, called Sex, Economy, Freedom and Community. The title sums up the book. Before you write it off (pun certainly intended) as a boring book, it really brings up a lot of good points (so far) about America’s educational and economic systems. If you want to read an absolutely thrilling piece from the book, click here and tell me what you think.

I had a lot of time at the store today to write, and I wrote a lot more than I anticipated I would. I’ve decided to post what I wrote here. If these were meant to be true essays, I would have polished them more than I had; therefore, I intend the following to be more of a discussion spark than a definitive point on an issue. It is open to criticism, but this is something that was just floating in my mind today.

A Call For Beasts To Teach Men

It’s a shame how people write off the old. They are not the waste of space the country makes them out to be. They only seem that way because we make them like so. When someone hits age 60, the only jobs we offer them are small-scale janitorial work or greeters at Wal-Mart. We hide them from the places they really ought to be: the public.

Why? They simply have more wisdom and knowledge than we do; and in our turbulent times, we could certainly use their assistance. Despite man’s cry that that was their generation and this is ours, man is still man and there are many things our elderly population knows that touch on the foundational aspects of mankind. They worship the same God, struggle with the same earthly sins, have fought for their beliefs (something less common today), know what it means to work for a living and a life, manage a household, love a wife, children and land, and have learned the importance of being thrifty and perhaps even frugal, especially in turbulent times.

No dishwasher, television, Internet connection, XBOX 360, Hummer, birth control pill, pleasure-increasing condom, cyclone vacuum or robot has changed man’s essential responsibilities. Technology and time have not changed man, but merely culture. Man will always have to love. Man will always have to fight for what he deems right. Man will always, as it always has, fall short of the glory of God. Man will always live on land, whether rural or urban, no matter how many feet in the air. Man will always have a finite sum of money. If one denies any of these, he is not a man and truly the one that is a waste of space; for he might as well be the beast, living purely for self and always consuming, and locked up on a cage.

This is what we have done to our old people. We have dubbed them beasts and claimed that they ought to be in cages (“homes”) because all they do is consume. We have trampled upon the responsibilities of man in our culture today in favor of pleasure, money, and ceaseless, bitter competition. We live for our selfish desires and deny humanity’s responsibilities. We have locked up the true men to let the beasts run wild.

This is not to say that the entire elderly population is righteous and the rest of us condemned as fulfilling our role as humans, but our view of the elderly as a hindrance on society and the youth as the truly wise shines a bright light upon our culture. The youth have not experienced what our elderly have; it’s time we reverse our current presupposition and have the former learn from the latter.

Our youth need to learn what it means to live a responsible life, and who better that those who have spent their lives living it (or not living it and dealing with the consequences) to teach them. It’s time we let the “beasts” out of their cages. The elderly ought not to be secluded from mainstream society or reduced to a lower class. They may no longer contribute to the economy (or, for some, the Economy), but what they possess collectively is something far more valuable: wisdom and a history of lives, however they lived them.

Release them. Let them visit schools. Allow them to be active in parks, malls and markets. Moreover, listen to them; they have plenty to talk about. They know more about what it takes to tame the true beast: us.

A Thought On Wal-Mart

For a store that has “everything,” Wal-Mart lacks the canon, books that have wrestled with the human condition and have stood the test of time. Rather, they sell what will make them the most money: bestsellers and romance novels.

Fools and Whores and Sad Highs

The band Augustana is more accurate that they perhaps envisioned when they penned, “We’re nothing more than fools and whores and sad highs. We’re living in a wasteland.”

Against Bratz

Walking down the aisles of the toy section of a department store, I discovered a lot about our present culture. The girls’ play doll section struck me in particular. Now enough has been said about Barbie regarding the near impossibility of a human female having her body proportions and how she has become increasingly immodest over the years. While Barbie has endured her share of attacks, it was a new breed of doll that most disturbed me.

The line of dolls, Bratz, is larger and thicker than its archetypal thin counterpart. Bratz are mostly dark-haired and have fuller lips than the blonde, thin-lipped Barbie. But what makes a Brat a Bratz is its attire, or the lack thereof. Every miniature Angelina Jolie look-alike wears clothes one would expect to see in a red light district. From short skirts to halter tops to leather high-healed boots, Bratz pack the attitude of a whore on her way to a night’s work.

Bratz even come in baby edition! They are scaled up in size so its human playmate can cuddle with her easier, but they still wear the same sleazy itsy bitsy teeny weeny yellow polka-dot bikini as its elder sisters. Bratz are plastic prostitutes sold to children.

So what’s the big deal? Children aspire to become like their playthings. Boys who go into with GI Joe wish that they will someday become a war hero. Girls who play with horses hope that some day they will be as magnificent as the animal they hold. Girls that play with Bratz cannot put them in roles as housewives, teachers, business leaders or politicians. Bratz are bad; they make their own rules and morals, defy parents and live in the moment. Bratz are whores and girls who spend leisure time with these dolls can do nothing but pretend to be a whore and immoral like they.

If the unknowing girl fails to recognize the doll as unacceptable, she will assume her attire (and suggested implications of that attire) is acceptable. Unless an adult tells her that Bratz are prostitutes, they girl will see nothing wrong with promiscuousness.

Do we really want to glorify prostitution to our children? What makes the Bratz so appealing in the first place? Is it because they are more lifelike? I doubt it. Most girls will not achieve the beauty of Angelina Jolie. It is either because they are not Barbie, or because of their dress. They are “trendier,” thus more provocative.

It appears as if the pattern of wearing this “trendier” style is now starting increasingly younger. Girls in high school exhibit fashion that only the most daring college students would wear. Middle school-aged girls, instead of going with friends to a movie, take trips to Victoria’s Secret. The world places such a high standing to beauty that it has started to have damaging effects. School-aged girls should not be concerning themselves this early with how they look compared to other girls. It inevitably turns into a competition to discover who can dress most like the scantily-clad models on European runways and Abercrombie & Fitch catalogs.

The Bratz attitude has got to go. Immodest dress is not acceptable and can only lead to trouble, especially for younger girls. If you’re ever considering buying your daughter a Bratz doll, don’t. Instead, buy her a good book and spend time together reading it in the evenings. You, instead of a prostitute, will then be her role model.