Foolishnes! (1 Corinthians 1:18-31)

Sorry for the long gap in writing - the new year has found me officially in a second ministry, and, while it is a blessing and a thrill, it makes it even harder to find time and energy for writing. But, I had the opportunity a couple weeks ago to preach at church, when the pastor was out of town. Since I wrote out my first draft, I thought I might update that and share it. It's perhaps a bit more stream-of-consciousness than usual because of the genre, but I hope it comes across well enough. Enjoy!

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It was the year 1781, and the Revolutionary War was drawing to a close. The main British Army had been trapped on a peninsula in Chesapeake Bay in Norfolk, Virginia. On the land side, they were cut off by an American and French army, under the command of George Washington. By sea, they were blockaded by a fleet of French warships. The British held out for a few days, but they were soon starved into submission, and the surrender documents were signed on October 19, 1781, effectively ending the war. To mark the occasion, the British military band (don't be besieged without one!) played a song that was both rather popular at the time and strangely appropriate, called “The World Turned Upside-Down”. And, in fact, when an army of the most power empire in the world was surrendering to a ragtag group of colonists, the world must have seemed just that way.

This is about the world being turned upside down; however, in a different way. For the past several weeks, the church has been talking about the prerequisites of evangelism, the important things that we need too understand, both in theory and in practice, if we're going to be engaged in sharing the gospel in the areas around us. This continues that line of discussion, but in a different direction. I want to consider our understanding of the Gospel itself, as described in 1 Corinthians 1:18-31 (which you may want to read).

The ancient church at Corinth was a rather troubled place. If you read through Paul's letters to them, or some of the writings of the early church fathers, it's evident that they tended to do a lot of infighting, mainly over matters of status and power. In this case, factions had been formed over which teachers should be honored the most – Peter, Paul, Apollos, even Jesus. Paul's immediate response to this was to go back to the basics of their belief – not restating the gospel, which they all knew well enough, but restating the context in which it was given. In so doing, he described three important, but non-obvious, attributes of the gospel that we can forget all too easily, to the peril of both ourselves and those whom we would bring to meet Jesus.

The first important thing that Paul tells us about the gospel is that it's purposefully counterintuitive – it's designed to be easily dismissed. Consider its focal point: a man dying naked, nailed to a couple of pieces of wood, meeting a cruel but far-too-common end to a short life. It's exactly the sort of end that should have prevented any sort of movement from starting, amongst either Jews or Gentiles. On the Jewish side, they knew what the Messiah would look like: he'd be the one riding in on the stallion, setting up a kingdom and ruling the earth for them. That's a far cry from a man crucified by their Roman conquerors, and in fact cursed by virtue of dying on a tree. So, it was plainly obvious that this must have been the wrong guy. Similarly, the Greeks knew all about logic and the supremacy of the gods, and would have been equally unconvinced by this god coming voluntarily to be a man, and then allowing himself to be killed. It's about as foolish as you can get. From the standpoint of everybody, then, this Christ is either impossible or lunacy – neither of which sounds like a very good belief option.

Now, of course, those of us who have believed this message may not see a conflict; we have answers that, to us, address the issue. For instance, we could reply to the Jewish objection that Christ did establish a kingdom, but it's invisible and not all here yet. He was cursed by dying on a tree, but that curse bought our pardon and then was canceled. We can agree with the Greek logician that it was crazy for Christ to die, but then again it was downright audacious for Him to rise again. And these are good answers. The problem is, they still don't prove anything. Indeed, they ask the scoffer to believe even more than he or she had to before! This is the problem, in fact, if I may be so bold, with the Christian obsession with apologetics, logical arguments and proofs of Christian beliefs. It's good to be able to answer genuine questions from people willing to believe, obviously. However, the gospel isn't designed so that you can take that same knowledge and argue someone into the Kingdom when their thinking is stuck in that worldly framework.

This brings us to our second important point. Why, you might ask, did God make make the gospel counterintuitive? Well, Paul gives us a very good answer – to humble us. No one could have guessed or figured out God's plan – even the disciples, who knew Jesus and were told the plan multiple times, weren't ready for it! Instead, if we are to understand it, it all has to be of God, so that it is God that is glorified, God that is followed, and God that is known. And this is how we come to faith, and through it obtain “a righteousness that is by faith from first to last.” (Romans 1:17 NIV) And, so, this humility is for our own good. Indeed, God's working of shame in people's lives in verses 27-29 ended up benefiting both the lowly and, apparently, a few of the wise, powerful, and noble. For both groups, the gospel can't be understood and accepted until the hearer is humble enough to accept it on God's terms, not their own.

Third, the gospel forces us to become radically Christ-centered. As was said above, the gospel is counterintuitive, requiring us to accept a new interpretation of God and the world. To do that, God must humble us to accept His explanation, even though it may not make sense. Once we've done this, we're suddenly in a rather alien place – an “upside-down world”, in fact. It's a place, as we read elsewhere [in the service], of camels jumping through needles (Matt. 19:23-26), of the first being last (Matt. 19:30), of men being honored with the angels (Psalm 8:3-8), and of mortals with eternity testified to in their hearts (Eccl. 3:11) – a world that defies understanding. Paul gives us one thing to cling to: Christ, and Him crucified (v. 23). He is the embodiment of God's power and grace, the only answer to sin, and the only thing we can boast in. Solomon said a similar thing back in Ecclesiastes (see Eccl. 3:9-15), that it's God who establishes, God who plans, and God who gives work. In other words, He and His word are the only way to understand how to live in God's “foolish” kingdom. It's a kingdom that involves, among other things, self-denial (Matt. 16:24), cheek-turning (Matt. 5:39), and enemy-loving (Luke 7:27-36). And these are things that He not only taught, but demonstrated in His time on earth.

To wrap this up, there's one fallacy in the this idea of “the world turned upside-down,” as it relates to the gospel: the world out there is already upside-down. When the gospel flips the world, it becomes not upside-down, but finally rightside-up. Or, to take it out of the metaphor, embracing the gospel means embracing the world, and ourselves, as God originally made us to be, instead of as the broken human beings we were born as due to sin. We are healed people, sent to still-broken people who often don't even know that they're broken. If we are to convince them, we need to first learn what it means to be a “little Christ”, through both relationship and study, and then, as we are able, begin to live and share it. As we do that, our lives themselves become the testimonies that will make the gospel make sense to other people. In other words, we are called, not to just preach the gospel, but to be it, through Christ working in us (Phil. 2:12-13). I pray that each of us would strive to reach that mark!

Christmas Thoughts

I started writing the below before Christmas, but didn't get a chance to go through and edit it until today, So, the time setting is a little off, but, at the same time, it's technically only the third day of Christmas, so I suppose it can still be accurate. If you don't want to look at it that way, that's fine – I leave it to you, then, to adjust the time references accordingly in your head.

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Christmas is, to my eyes, a somewhat vexing holiday. In our popular culture, there's a “holiday spirit” we're all supposed to be in, and which I can never seem to catch. It's perhaps best exemplified by the many TV and movie scenes involving dancing elves. Unfortunately, I'm too tall to be an elf. So, as I look at the upcoming holiday, and enjoy the decorations and the gift-getting and especially the music, there's a feeling that it's incomplete. And, in fact, it is.

At this point, one expects to see the nativity brought up. And this is rightly so, for the Christ-child is the reason this whole celebration happens. But what's come to me, perhaps just as a flaw in my own understanding, or perhaps as a flaw in our larger culture, is that the celebration has left behind the reason behind it; the birth, like the menorah, the flipping of a calendar, and the harvest, is just another excuse to party, a fate unworthy of any of them. How do we solve this? By stepping aside from the party and reconsidering the bedlam that was Bethlehem, and in that the reverence due the mystery of God Incarnate.

God, from the beginning of time, has brought light to darkness. In Genesis, darkness covered the earth, and the Spirit hovered over the waters. And the first thing God did in that situation was transform it by creating light. Later, in Isaiah 9, the prophet described an oppressive darkness covering the land of Israel, due to its sin and punishment, and foretells the Child as a sun breaking over the horizon at last. John, in his gospel, wrote of Christ as the light that gives life to all men, coming into the world, and in Revelation depicted the eternal Jerusalem as a place not needing sun or moon, because the Lamb Himself will be its light.

No matter what the carols say, we make a mistake if we believe nights are silent and peaceful. There can be good in the night, as with the Spirit that first day of Creation, but the more common nighttime of the punished Israelites and lost mankind is characterized by chaos, fear, hardship, and oppression. This was the case even on that first Christmas night: Mary and Joseph didn't find the stable picturesque or pleasant, except that it was a place outside the craziness of a village absolutely filled to capacity; the birth may have been miraculous, but I doubt Mary found it enjoyable; and I'd be willing to bet, again in the face of carols, that the Holy Infant did plenty of crying. But the night, and the babe, were all the more holy for that. For normal things to be accompanied by the normal, or exceptional things by the exceptional, is a boring truism; the awe-inspiring other-ness and holiness of the night was that the exceptional came in the midst and guise of the normal, and transformed it.

The Christ Child was a gift, but He was also a bit of a Trojan Horse. Wrapped incomprehensibly in that package of flesh was the fullness of the infinite God, a God Who, out of unspeakable love, had, on the one hand, humbled Himself to an astonishing level, yet, in so doing, had made Himself finally accessible to all. The effect of God's glory is to kill those who look on it, because it's too much for us to handle, yet, in the incarnation, as John writes, “we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14) Well might angels sing, stars shine rightly, shepherds come and bow down, and magi leave their studies to seek Him, for, by His own choice, “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” (John 1:14)

This Christmas, if your joy stems from dancing elves, boughs of holly, or even songs in the air, let me suggest you return to where it all started, with a God who, to change the world He loved, gave it neither revolution nor peace, neither a thunderclap from the heavens nor the final outworking of earthly evil, but instead gave the one gift no one could have dared to imagine and that the theologians still don't understand: Himself, laying on a pile of hay, so that one day He could hang upon a cross, and that today we could be adopted into His family and transformed into His likeness.

Merry Christmas!

Important Baking Tip

On a completely different topic, tonight I was baking. Now, in baking, there is a very important step, called "licking the beater". Someone might tell you that this step is extraneous, but I have been reminded tonight why this isn't the case. You see, I had put some sugar in a smaller plastic container to take it to cook elsewhere one day (I think for a Bible study) and hadn't combined it back into the larger sugar container, so it seemed like a good plan to use it up. And, indeed, it would have been a good plan, except that it wasn't sugar - it was salt. An extra quarter-cup of salt in a recipe changes the taste ever-so-slightly. Had I not been forced to lick the beater out of respect for tradition, I wouldn't have found out until people ate it. Thankfully, disaster was averted.

The lesson: lick the beater - it could save your dessert!

The Children of the Prophets

So, my grand thoughts on this blog are still, as many grand things, up in the air. Perhaps the upcoming quiet weekend will provide time for contemplation. In the meantime, in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I offer this thought.

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In the Old Testament, names are very significant things. In even a casual reading, it seems like the people named everything. Sometimes they got so into it they gave the same thing two names, as in Exodus 17:7. And they weren't random names – they were names with meaning, meant as a way to remember and proclaim an important message or event. This emphasis on naming even applied to people. Sometimes, as in Genesis 29 and 30, the names are human-given, with typical human motives. Other times, as in Isaiah 7:14, the name is God-given, and comes with a message (this is also the case with John the Baptist and Jesus in the New Testament).

This thinking relates back to the poor prophet who sparked this thought, Hosea. If you're not familiar with him, he's got his own short book in the Old Testament. The book's theme is a metaphor of marriage and adultery for the relationship between God and Israel. And, to make it clear, God gave them an object lesson in poor Hosea's family life. That part of the story isn't the point here, although if you're not familiar with it you might want to take a look. Rather, the part of interest is in chapter 1, from verse 3 to verse 9.

In the passage, after Hosea has gone and found his God-ordained wife (those who believe God has one perfect person out there for you, beware!), they start having children. As parts of his prophecy, God gives Hosea the name each child should have. Surprisingly, they aren't found in most baby name books. The first child, a son, was named Jezreel, which means “God scatters”, and is also the name of a town where the king of Israel was assassinated in a bid for power (see 2 Kings 9). The second, a daughter, was named Lo-Ruhamah, “not loved”. And the third, another son, was dubbed Lo-Ammi, “not my people”.

The names were meant as a message to Israel, but, at the same time, it was three real people who got stuck with them - they of all people had good cause for low self-esteem! And that's usually, in fact, where our thinking about them stops, or at least mine had. But there is another possibility. You see, giving a name creates the opportunity for proclamation, but it doesn't actually do the proclaiming. The fact that some kid has a silly name doesn't directly imply that everyone knows it, or, more importantly, what it means. Rather, it is up to those who know to explain it.

Which means, I think, that Hosea's children were really offered a choice, as opposed to being left to suffer. They certainly had the option, and perhaps even the right, to become victims, innocent people stuck with a hardship in God's bigger plan. But, they also had the option to embrace the message, to view it as an invitation to join their father's mission to their countrymen, warning them of what God was saying through what they had been given.

The book doesn't really say what happened to the children, so it's left to our imagination. But I wonder if all of us may be given similar choices. It's easy to take the good things we're given and be thankful for them and use them with gusto in the service of the Kingdom. But what do we do with the bad things, the troublesome things, the tough things? We have the option of becoming victims, which is something our culture today is really good at. Or, we have the option of being thankful and using them as gifts in the service of the Kingdom. Which one will you do?

John 11 - The Easy Impotence of Earthly Expectations

Most people are familiar with the phrase “the soft bigotry of low expectations,” often used in discussions of education politics. Its origins are uncertain, from what I can tell, but the concept isn't: if you don't expect a person to perform well, for whatever reason, you can be reasonably sure that they will not, in fact, perform well. Thus, the initial prophecy of failure fulfills itself, and the apparent solution is to set a higher level of expectation. Awhile ago now, as I was getting ready to lead a Bible study, it struck me that we can do a very similar thing with God. The passage for that study, which I'd like to refer to, is a familiar one: John 11, the story of the death and resurrection of Lazarus and the repercussions thereof.

To recap it, Jesus had a friend named Lazarus, who lived in a village near Jerusalem called Bethany. At the time of this story, Jesus was on the other side of the Jordan River, avoiding a premature execution at the hands of the rather unhappy religious establishment. While there, He received word that Lazarus was gravely ill, but despite this, to the dismay of many, Jesus remained where He was for two more days before heading to Bethany. In this interim, Lazarus died. And, thus, it was likely with a mix of sorrow, anger, and hope that Lazarus' sister Martha met and confronted Jesus on His way into town, in verses 20-22, where we'll pick the story up from.

Martha greeted Jesus by laying out the obvious, which didn't make Jesus look good: Lazarus was dead, Jesus could have prevented it, and He didn't. Then, probably realizing how that sounded, Martha hastened to add that her faith in Jesus remained firm (v. 22), even though this round hadn't worked out how she had hoped. From the text (no cheating by reading ahead!), Martha was upset but resigned to the situation; it wasn't what she wanted, but God must have had a plan, so she was going to persevere through the disappointment in faith and hope.

Jesus' answer to this honest statement was of little comfort; “Your brother will rise again” (v. 23) was quite true. The Pharisees and Sadducees fought on the point, but Jesus clearly supported the idea of the final resurrection of the dead, and so there was hope in that. In fact, in so stating, He helped her put it all in perspective. Martha, though sad and perhaps a little disappointed, accepted this, and was willing to take it and soldier on.

And, of course, this is where the story ends. Except that, of course, it doesn't, because that wasn't quite what Jesus meant.

Martha, in her grief and from her limited perspective, misunderstood what was going on and why Jesus was there. Christ hadn't come to give her a hug and help her move on. Rather, He was there to raise the dead man! Martha had a hard time understanding this, in fact not apparently getting it until Lazarus walked out of the tomb in verse 39. At that point, she discovered she'd gotten a whole lot more than she'd expected, or even thought possible!

I'm afraid that oftentimes we make the mistake of Martha, looking at the impossible situations in our lives in the light of our own human abilities, and in so doing forgetting to consider that the all-powerful God of the universe is also present. This factor, logically, yet, in the moment, shockingly, changes everything. The end of Martha's mourning was but a question away!

Jesus had a lot to say about faith, and the power available to those who will believe. The statements are bold – “If you abide in Me, and My words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.” (John 15:7) – and come from a trustworthy source. But, even so, it's hard. That's why Jesus nowhere condemned Martha for not making an absolute leap of faith. In fact, lest we take the argument too far, it's not true that God will always give us what we ask for in faith (see, for instance, 2 Corinthians 12:7-9). Both can be the case because it's not faith that makes things happen, but the God-man in Whom that faith is placed. For Martha, this took the form of Jesus' statement: “I am the resurrection, and the life”! (v. 25) God “is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think,” (Eph. 3:20) so it is hardly untoward to be bold in asking. God requests the faith required to ask the question – He can take care of the rest.

One important note, lest this be taken wrong, is that, whichever way God's will points, He requires our obedience. Martha had no idea what was going on, and a lot of what Jesus asked her to do probably didn't make any sense. But, even so, she obeyed Him. Asking for miracles takes a lot of faith, but simple obedience requires only a small bit of it at each step. Martha wasn't in a state to ask for what she needed, and certainly couldn't see it coming, but because she obeyed, she got it anyway.

This is written as much to me as to anyone else. If God can and is willing to, in fact, “do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think”, then our practical system of world-level expectations begin to look rather pathetic and foolish. Perhaps instead, as we obey God in the issues of life, we should consider asking Him for a God-level answer. Maybe, just maybe, He'll let us “see the glory of God.” (v. 40)

Breaking News: Disaster Averted Due to Sockpuppet Post

A Sunday service was almost left incomplete this past weekend, when, due to a miscommunication, the guest speaker at a church in lovely Troy, NY failed to appear. It could have been a service without a message, but church member Nathan Allen, author of future internet sensation The Sockpuppet Post, was ready. Using archives of articles from the Post, he was able to quickly piece together a sermon and deliver it, marking his first time preaching. The topic was seeking and responding to rest, and was based on 1 Kings 19. As Mr. Allen said, "I'd always imagined my first sermon would have more ... preparation." But church members seemed to receive it well.

Mr. Allen believes readers of the Post should be encouraged by this incident to relentlessly study the Word, and to even keep notes. "You may not ever be called upon to give a sermon off the cuff, but you never know. Either way, you can't help but gain from digging into the Word."

When asked if he'd take his own advice and update the Post after 2.5 months of silence, Mr. Allen frowned, sighed, and turned to trod back into his hole. As he faded into the darkness, he could be heard muttering "soon, soon - just as soon as I get this other crazy project finished..." It is hoped, not least by the author, that he will in fact survive to post another day.

Mark 10 - Those Darn Kids!

"Children, how difficult it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God." - Mark 10:24-25


A couple weeks ago, while getting the service together for church, I was going through Mark 10 and noticed something interesting that got me thinking. The chapter has several short episodes, all pretty well-known, and I want to look at the first four of them. In the first, vv. 1-12, the Pharisees make one of their many attempts to make Jesus look foolish. The second, vv. 13-16, is when the children came to see Christ, and He had to tell the disciples to let them through. This is followed by the visit of the rich young ruler, vv. 17-22, and finally Jesus' discussion with the disciples in vv. 23-31 about general people's and their own dedication to Him.

Considered together, there are two intertwined threads in these four anecdotes. The first is thematic, and is obvious: all four are about people coming to Jesus, with different results. The second, and the one that caught my attention, is the idea of “children” in relation to the disciples. More specifically, in the second story, it's the disciples versus the children, as they tried to get the kids to leave the Master alone, while in the fourth Christ turns around and, in verse 24, refers to those same disciples as “children”. We'll consider the first, and then find that it wraps back around to the second.

Taking the stories in order, we can discern two pairs of contrasts. The first is between the Pharisees and the children: the former were allowed full access to Jesus, but the latter denied any access at all, even though it's apparent in Christ's reactions that the opposite would have been preferable. The second is between a person who has everything yet lacks, and those who have nothing and yet lack nothing. In both cases, the people who were ultimately successful had what the world would consider impassible obstacles in their way – the children, their social status, and the disciples their lack of worldly goods – while, conversely, the ones who seemed to have nothing in the way couldn't quite make it. It seems, in fact, that the children and the disciples didn't see the obstructions at all, or at least as such, while the others ran up against an invisible, impenetrable wall that caused them to miss Christ's point completely.

The previous paragraph is a conclusion in itself, one that's obvious from the text. But let's consider the disciples, who, besides Jesus, were the only ones involved in both pairs of stories. Interestingly, they switched parts between the two. In their discussion with Jesus, we see that they were committed to allowing nothing to keep them away from Him. But with the children, they bowed to social propriety and actively became obstacles to keep them from getting to Jesus. In other words, they understood the Christian life for themselves, but acted as if it didn't apply to others in the world. And here, incidentally, is where we wrap back to Jesus' rather poignant choice of identifiers for the group.

The disciples had missed the fact that the children were obeying the same motivations they were, only acting them out in accordance with their own childish natures. Since children are different from adults, it only stands to reason that their approach would be different, but their heart was the same. And that's why, in verse 15, Jesus told His disciples to be like children in approaching Him. It wasn't to imply, I think, that they weren't doing so (our usual interpretation), but to explicitly point out that this was exactly what they were doing. In other words, their fault wasn't in not following God enough – it was in denying others' authenticity in doing the same, and thus making themselves obstacles to their co-disciples.

How often do we do the same? There are obviously limits to proper seeking – if it's not seeking Christ, or otherwise contravenes the plain meaning of scripture, there's an issue there. But within those confines, there are a lot of different ways of following Christ. Just consider the number of denominations, para-church and social ministry organizations, Bible studies, theological schools, etc. there are out there, and it's awe-inspiring. What is actually important in it all? That people give it all up, “and come, follow Me.” (10:21) All the other details can be viewed as a challenge to “proper” Christianity (“proper” in whatever sense or facet you like) to be stifled and corrected, or, it would seem more correctly, as an opportunity to see and encourage our brothers and sisters in the heartfelt pursuit of their faith. All it takes (hehe - “all”) is to drop some of your own pride and evaluate yourself and the other person in the light of that goal, not your ideas about it. You may discover a fellow disciple.

What I Learned Today (kinda)

Oh, why not....

It's late, but I was encouraged recently. I commute using the local bus system, and there is a certain driver who, being human, often can come off rather harshly, generally to riders who more than ask for it (I'm not condoning it, but I'm not perfect either). Yet, I have a pretty good rapport with them, and have found that it's actually not difficult to draw out a smile. My secret? Just being kind - it's amazing what a transformation a simple greeting can bring about.

I'd consider myself smart, but Solomon beat me to it: "A soft answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger." (Prov. 15:1) If you haven't already, try it - it's pretty cool.

What I Learned on Sunday

If you weren't already aware, Chinese New Year is this Thursday. I had always assumed that, like the western New Year, it is celebrated at midnight local time. Apparently, however, from what I gathered in talking to an international student, no matter where you are, the Chinese year starts when it's midnight in China. Although I'm guessing China has multiple time zones, so I'm not exactly sure how that works.

New Feature - What I Learned Today

Writing isn't happening a lot lately. I apologize. I have four or five posts half-done, but haven't managed to finish any of them. When I get time, this blog will be deluged, I guess. :)

In the meantime, I realize I'm learning lots of neat things lately, which should be shared. So, I'm going to attempt a semi-daily feature called "What I learned today". Some of it will be geeky, some of it not. I haven't learned anything exciting yet today, but here are two recent ones:

1. When linking to a PDF file on the web, you can specify which page should be loaded. In the href, after you put the filename (folders/filename.pdf), you add "#page=" and the page number.

2. The official difference between a calzone and a stromboli is that, while both have mozzarella cheese in them, calzones also have ricotta.

Thoughts - 2 Chronicles 33:17

I was reading in 2 Chronicles last night, and came across a fascinating little note. Chapter 33 describes the reign of King Manasseh in Judah. Manasseh is known as one of the worst kings, because he re-introduced the many forms of idolatry his father Hezekiah worked to eliminate from Hebrew life. Usually, his story is read in 2 Kings, where the story ends with God giving notice that Manasseh's sin was the last straw, and Judah would fall just as Israel had already. However, 2 Chronicles gives the other part of the story: Manasseh was taken to Babylon in chains, truly repented there, was restored, and returned to Judah to attempt to undo his apostasy. He was largely successful, but the chronicler, in verse 17, offers that he failed in one place: “Nevertheless, the people still sacrificed at the high places, but only to the Lord their God.”

Based on past history, especially before Hezekiah, this seems pretty darn good. After all, the people were worshiping the true God for once! In fact, one could potentially argue if it was a problem. After all, even Samuel, that great prophet of God, had sacrificed on high places in his time, as did other prophets (1 Samuel 9, 10). And David said, “The earth is the Lord's, and the fullness thereof” (Psalm 24:1). Further, the Law nowhere mentioned Jerusalem or the Temple as places for worship. So, as long as Jehovah was worshiped, were they not free to worship Him in their own villages, instead of much-less-convenient Jerusalem?

The Bible student will quickly realize that the preceding argument is a bit of a straw man, but it isn't hard to imagine it being offered in earnest. The problems with it, though, are many and, I find, extremely thought-provoking. As such, I thought I would share them, in the hope that they might be applied to today.

First, the high places contravened the specific word of God, notably Deuteronomy 12, 14, 26, and 31, where God said that He would choose a place for His name, and that all worship was to happen there. This is not a minor issue, and unfortunately it wasn't isolated: the more-famous story of King Josiah and the discovery of the Law in the temple, only 20 years after Manasseh's death, indicates that they were off the mark in many more areas, due to ignorance of God's commands. Of course, the Law was there for the finding and reading long before then, but they instead chose the expedient of relying on their own ideas. This is sad, not just because of the spiritual state it indicates, but because God's commands exist, not for their own sake, but to demarcate the best and safest way of doing things.

In this case, the most direct problem God's plan would have saved them from was that the high places emulated heathen religious practices. High places weren't a Hebrew invention, but a holdover from the peoples driven out of the land before. As such, they represented a visible connection with the paganism the Israelites had found to be a particularly strong temptation. It was a snare they should have been well aware of, but apparently they either didn't recognize it or thought themselves strong enough to resist it. Either way, they embraced, rather than shunned, the temptation, and history repeated itself yet again..

This temptation is even more dangerous because the high places splintered the faith community, cutting them off from one of their strongest God-given defenses. Since each village and city had its own high place, there was no need to gather into a larger body. By leaving off from that, however, they lost two important things. First, they lost the positive motivation of seeing themselves as a part of the whole. The gatherings at Jerusalem were an opportunity to understand oneself at part of the totality of the Chosen People, to be encouraged and energized by affirming the common faith and practice shared with a host of other people. It was, if you'll excuse the term, sanctified peer pressure to orthodoxy. Second, the larger community could also exert negative motivation – watching and stepping in to correct divergences from the Law. The communities, being on their own, had no such control. In short, they had placed themselves on the wrong side of the “divide and conquer” methodology - conquering by sin, well before any human invader.

Finally, and most surprisingly to me, the logic in Deuteronomy 12 shows that perhaps their greatest problem was that the high places made holiness incomprehensible. The simplest meaning of “holy” is “separate”, and there was a clear distinction made between things that could be done at home and things that had to be done in “the place the Lord your God will choose.” (vv. 5, 11, 14, 18, 26) A clear line was drawn between common life and sacred times – not that God was to be removed from everyday life (see, e.g., Deuteronomy 6:4-9), but that His fullest worship required one to move from where they were to where He was. A “high place” outside of town wasn't the equal of “going up” to the place of the transcendent God! But, further, until they were separated to a distinct place (and, consequently, time) of God, they could not understand fully what being in His presence meant: a place, in fact, not of somber hardship, but of exuberant joy.

So, in the end, what seemed, at worst, a harmless shortcut in returning to God, demonstrated and furthered the corruption of the foundations of God's people. Judah was already in decline, and heroic attempts to repair and restore it from the top came too late. Judgment was around the bend, but their reactions left open a path for that final, condemning decline.

I think there are applications to the present day, but these are left as an exercise to the reader. Preferably, via the comments. ;)

A Thought on the Season

Service is its own reward, and giving, its own gift. Many people cause themselves a lot of misery because they give to get something in return, and are sorely disappointed.

Incidentally, part of the reason love is "a still more excellent way" (1 Cor. 12:31) is that it is required to realize this truth.

Important Life Lessons - #1

I've learned a lot over the past few months. Some of it's made it into big long posts here, and a lot of it hasn't. The stuff that hasn't probably isn't going to, either, right now. So, I'm gonna try shorter posts.

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I used to think that being patient meant twiddling one's thumbs until whatever it is that one is waiting for happens. I was mistaken. What I have discovered is that it really means putting the one thing on hold, and instead doing something else that's important. Sometimes the thing you think has to be first and foremost really doesn't, and something else that's less obvious does. It may not makes sense, and it may not seem nearly as important or opportune as whatever it is you want to do, but later on you discover that God really did have a plan and agenda, and it worked out even better than you could have imagined.

So, if you find yourself frustrated by the brick wall you keep running into, check and see if God isn't actually giving you opportunity to do something else you might never have been able to do otherwise, and, if He is, exercise patience by leaving he first thing in His hands and going and doing the second one. You'll discover, as I did, that His plans are as amazing as they are unexpected.

"No" - Joshua 5:14

“And he said, 'No; but I am the commander of the army of the Lord.'” - Joshua 5:14

OK, back to Jericho. But this time more briefly. I chose the title for this little thought mainly because it's a use of the word that doesn't fit with the stock “When God Says No” message. It's actually kind of cool.

The key verse comes on the eve of the Battle of Jericho. Israel had entered Canaan and gotten the preparations underway for conquest. In true God-following fashion, they'd focused their energies on God and His commandments, but even so Joshua was understandably nervous. After all, he was the untested leader of a people already known for being troublesome, now dwelling in the midst of enemy territory. So, when he spotted a man a ways off and in a rather threatening posture, he thought it best to exercise caution. Hence his question of greeting in 5:13: “Are you for us, or for our adversaries?”

There were probably a couple responses Joshua was ready for. One would have been “your adversaries,” in which case defense and/or retreat would have had to be effected. Another one would have been “you”, which would have been welcome news of reinforcement. Imagine his surprise, then, when the man said, as the NIV translates it, “Neither”, or, by the ESV, “No”.

The next sentence, where the person identified himself, made it clear who he was: the commander of the army of the Lord. It's apparent that this was to fully answer Joshua's question. And, in fact, it did, just not as Joshua had anticipated.

You see, Joshua made a critical mistake in his question. He asked “Are you for us...”, identifying the important distinguishing point as the person's relation to Israel. And this idea needed to be corrected. Because in his work and desire to lead well, Joshua had lost track of Who the real leader was. The Israelite enterprise was God's doing, not his or even Israel's. As such, it wasn't God's job to be for or against Israel – it was their job to be supporting Him.

In our lives, we face the same trap. It's a question of who's going to set our agenda. Are you making your plans and asking God to support you, or are you following His lead and then trusting Him to work it all out? And, when you see others, are you looking for allies in your own self-centered goals, asking “Are you for me?”, or are you searching out partners in ministry: “Are you for God?”

When the Commander came to Joshua, Joshua stopped, bowed before Him, and waited for His instructions. And, not surprisingly, the walls came tumbling down. Coincidence? I think not!

Joshua 6 & 7 - Making a Choice

I embarked a few months ago on a rather large, though admittedly uncreative, project, that of reading through the Bible from cover to cover. I've done a lot of Bible study, but haven't attempted going through the whole thing since I was a kid, and that endeavor wasn't particularly successful. It's pretty interesting, when you do that, what you notice. I thought I would share one of those things.

The story of the Battle of Jericho is pretty well-known. It's the first battle the Israelites fought in their conquest of Canaan proper. They marched around the walls for a week, the walls fell down, and the Israelites ran in and destroyed the place. It's a well-covered story, and a good one, but what caught my interest was a pair of events that happened immediately after it, the end of Joshua 6 and then Joshua 7.

The first event is easy to overlook. Before the battle, Joshua sent spies into Jericho to check things out. They stayed at the house of a prostitute named Rahab. The rulers of the city got wind of this, and they told Rahab to give them up. Instead of doing this, Rahab helped them escape, and they in turn promised to save her and her family. And so, after the battle, the former spies went to her house and brought out her and her family, and they joined the train of the Israelites. “And she has lived in Israel to this day, because she hid the messengers whom Joshua sent to spy out Jericho.” (6:25b)

The second is better-known. After Jericho, Israel went out to take down a rinky-dink little town called Ai. It was so little, they couldn't even afford a third letter in their name. And the Aiites walloped Israel. In searching for a cause for this, it turned out that a man named Achan, of the tribe of Judah, hadn't quite listened to God back at Jericho. Rather than destroy everything, like God commanded, Achan grabbed some nice-looking items for himself, and hid them in his tent. He was thus punished, by death for him, his family, and his livestock. “And all Israel stoned him with stones. And they raised over him a great heap of stones that remains to this day.” (7:25b-26a)

What do these two stories have in common? They demonstrate an important principle about the people of God. In Joshua, as begun in Exodus and as ultimately consummated at the Cross, God is forming and establishing His people. And He makes it explicit what it is that is to define them: “You shall be holy to me, for I the Lord am holy and have separated you from the peoples, that you should be mine.” (Lev. 21:14) In other words, they were to be a separate (the literal meaning of “holy”) people, belonging to, and living in line with, Him.

Rahab was a prostitute. According to footnotes, the Hebrew term can also be used as “innkeeper”, but that's an unlikely translation. Achan was an Israelite who seemed so good that he had to be outed by God Himself. Funny, then, that in His shaping of His people, God showed favor to the first by grafting her in (she's even in Jesus' ancestry) and had the nice pew-sitter stoned.

The difference was in the heart. Rahab understood that God was at work, and chose to obey and then trust Him, in defiance of the world. Her choice showed a heart in line with the purpose of Israel, and she was welcomed into the fold as one who truly belonged. Achan heard that God was at work, but saw what he wanted, and decided to grasp it while he could. God removed him from the body like you'd remove a cancerous tumor, because his heart made him precisely that.

Every person, “Christian” or not, is presented with a similar grand choice: What will he value most? Will he put God first, and abandon himself completely to God's cause and provision, or will he instead obey his own lusts for trifles and idols in the here and now? Either option is valid, but make no mistake: there is no middle ground, and both choices have prices and consequences. God knows your heart, and looks on that more than even your actions. Choose your leader wisely.


“For not all who are descended from Israel belong to Israel, and not all are children of Abraham because they are his offspring, but 'Through Isaac shall your offspring be named.' This means that it is not the children of the flesh who are the children of God, but the children of the promise are counted as offspring.” - Romans 9:6b-8

Thoughts on Self-Identity

For the past couple of weeks, I've been working intermittently on a personal website. Since it's looking increasingly like I'll be going into the web field, it seemed like a good idea, and probably something I should've started earlier (in all my free time...). It seemed like a simple enough matter at the time, but it's instead lead me to transform my thoughts on who I am, where I'm going, and what it all means.

One might think that a website is a pretty simple matter, and, indeed, it can be. Some websites have a laser-like focus, an audience in mind and a specific message to leave that group with. Such sites are easy to craft, and, unfortunately, not what I had in mind. No, what I decided upon was a site to tie together and show who I am and what I do. Currently, I have bits and pieces spread far and wide – a blog here, photos elsewhere, stuff from RPI at yet another place, and professional samples hither and thither – and nothing to tie them all together, explain them, or expound upon them. Unifying them, and presenting them to everyone who might be interested in a rational manner, is quite a challenge.

My initial thought, which I have now abandoned, was to delineate it into sections based on how we usually subdivide our activities. I had a “Personal” section, a “Professional” one, “Ministry”, and “Academic”. All seemed well and good. I made a nice design, did up some great graphics, and was ready to put together content. And it was there that it all fell apart.

The problem that came up is that very few things fall neatly into one of those categories. Take, for example, this blog. It's a personal thing, in that I don't get paid for it and a lot of what drives it is the events of my life. At the same time, the thrust is primarily that of practical theology, giving it claim to “ministry” status. For certain types of web work, it would provide a sample of my skillz, so it could be professional. To pick any one of these categories for it is to risk it being missed by two categories of potentially interested people. To put it, and everything else with a conflict, in multiple categories is to create a very confusing website, with some, but far from all, information placed redundantly and semi-randomly throughout. This obviously will not do.

What this brings to the fore is a question of how one defines his identity. Somewhere I encountered in a story (I have no idea which) a scene where a character was asked the simple question “who are you?” The person asked responded with his name, his family, and his accomplishments, and each answer was rebuked as unsatisfactory, because it was too shallow a meaning of “identity”. In the end, if I recall properly, the character was left without an answer. Identity is both deeper and more complex than we acknowledge. To maintain simplicity in our busy lives, and, really, to make it all easy to organize and manage, we condition ourselves to be satisfied with simple answers. Unfortunately, they don't work.

For me, at least, the lesson and conclusion is that a life, or at least one such as I want to live, is a cohesive whole. There is a foundational set of things that make me who I am – faith, history, education, relationships, and, yes, even possessions – and everything I do is an outworking of that foundation. In other words, identity must drive activities, and activities reflect identity. Each activity will draw upon the facets of my identity in different ways and amounts, of course, but each must in some way contribute to all.

The concept, from a practical standpoint, isn't new to me. What is new is the explicit statement of it, and the conclusions that such a statement begets. First and foremost, it means that life can't be compartmentalized. To know me as a person is to know me as an academic, a professional, and a Christian. Though perhaps not explicitly laid out, those who know me in a professional setting should find my Christian service no surprise, for example, nor should my church associates be shocked to discover my career or my hobbies. Second, no one activity can be allowed to take over my life: becoming a workaholic starves other outlets, being consumed by family leads to neglect of other duties, and even the life of the Church can drown out other important calls of service.

Third, and most to the point right now, it means that I've had to change how I describe myself to the world. As opposed to what I do here and there, my story is now: Who I Am, What I Do, and Where I'm Going. There's a lot more work in defining those sections and answering the questions they imply. But, they're the questions that count. Yet another case where the journey is, perhaps, of far more value than even the destination. And that, to return to the original topic, means the website is getting redesigned.

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"Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and he will make straight your paths." (Proverbs 3:5-6)

A post!

Goodness knows I've been trying to put something together for the blog for a while now. I guess I've never fully experienced mental exhaustion before, but I believe that's what I've been suffering from. So, this isn't going to be a big post. Sorry - I'll hopefully be able to manage that soon.

As is often the case, there's a bit of a story here. I engage in a lot of personal worship by just sitting at the piano and playing through the hymns. One particular hymn, "Arise, My Soul, Arise", has been of a very similar chord to my heart lately. Only problem is, in a way that's hard to explain, the words Charles Wesley wrote haven't been working for me, and my soul has been singing different ones in their place lately. So, in bits and pieces, I re-wrote it to align better. In the hope that it might speak to someone else, I thought I'd share. For the tune and original words, try here.

Arise, my soul, arise,
A new day is at hand;
The Lord is at thy side,
Thy footsteps He hath planned.
Each step He guides with heav'nly light,
Each step He guides with heav'nly light,
The fiends of darkness thus to fight.

Along this bright-lit way
We travel not with fear,
For as we work and pray
Our Father does us hear.
He sweetly whispers of His love,
He sweetly whispers of His love,
And shouts it from the heights above.

But yet there comes the night,
When darkness Christ wouldst veil;
Thy faith, which is thy might,
Seems ready soon to fail.
Have mercy, Lord, or I am lost,
Have mercy, Lord, or I am lost,
To doubts and sorrows o'er me tossed.

“My child, ye need not fear,
For I am at thy side,
Thy pathway to make clear,
My own strength to provide.
Lean on Me and I'll lead you on,
Lean on Me and I'll lead you on,
And soon enough the morn shall come.”

And so in joy or pain,
I yield me to His will;
Though many trials remain,
His grace abideth still.
Thus onwards to the courts above,
Thus onwards to the courts above,
Each day I'm trusting in His love.

Thoughts - Song of Solomon SG Philosophy

Yeah, so, my Spring Break writing didn't get nearly as far as I'd hoped, and I may not manage to get back to it until May. But, in the meantime, I've taken up leading a Small Group. I've been doing a lot of thinking/philosophizing about it, because I want to do it right. Below is what I've come up with.

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Last week, Nate Chapin and I began leading a Small Group on the Song of Solomon. Both of us being busy people, we had hoped to follow a pattern common in SG's that just directly study the text: basically, read the text, and then discuss it. There are a lot of benefits to this system: among others, it requires a minimum of preparation, allows insights to emerge that the leader might have missed, and frees the conversation to move in whatever direction members might feel a need to go. So, that's what we tried. But, unfortunately, it proved less than satisfying for the subject at hand.

Reflecting on this, it's quite apparent why this is the case. That method is great in the relatively clear and comfortable New Testament epistles. This is because, being instructional, the messages in the epistles are a lot clearer and less open to imaginative interpretation (basically, they're pre-sanctified). To be blunt, the Song of Solomon isn't. It's a poetic story, which requires a very different style of interpretation. And many of the things that it touches on really aren't comfortable or appropriate for group discussion, especially in a college setting.

According to Jamieson, Fausset, and Brown's (JFB) commentary, church fathers Origen and Jerome noted that the Jews didn't allow anyone to read the Song until he was 30 years old. The more I've considered it, the more I understand the feeling behind that prohibition; the Song is very hard to read and understand. At the same time, I'm increasingly convinced of the truth of 2 Timothy 3:16-17, “All Scripture is breathed out by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, and for training in righteousness, that the man of God may be competent, equipped for every good work.” And, further, I believe that it can be encountered in a pure and uplifting way, if those who study it would approach it correctly; Titus 1:15: “To the pure, all things are pure.”

[Note: Karen has provided a link which claims that the age was not 30, but 13, the age at which a child became an adult. This would honestly make more sense, but I don't have the time or resources to sort it out right now. Either way, I think the point would still be valid, although perhaps not as forcefully as with 30.]

However, just because something can be studied beneficially, that doesn't necessarily mean that it needs to be; in other words, the follow-on question is “why study the Song?”. I think there are a couple important reasons, at least to me. The first, at least for me, is that it poses a significant challenge. It's relatively easy to study an epistle, or to work one's way through Proverbs. Now, don't get me wrong: those are extremely essential studies, and there's great depths to be plumbed within them, which can take years to fully understand. But, at the same time, they're low-risk: it's pretty difficult to go wrong in your studies, the human predilection to read our ideas into the text notwithstanding. SoS isn't like that, as is shown by how often it's looked at kind of askance. It demands a greater amount of maturity, purity, and commitment to really get it. So, since I could use all three, what better way to pursue them than by doing something that requires me to practice them?

The second reason is related, but different: there's a reason God put this book into His Word. If you think about it, there are very few subjects that get an entire book devoted to them. Besides SoS, there's the Law (Leviticus, Deuteronomy), suffering (Job), music (Psalms), wisdom (Proverbs), and life outlook (Ecclesiastes). Among such a group, there are two basic themes: worship of God (Law, music) and living life (suffering, wisdom, and life outlook). Into this group, then, the Lord places this book about love. And not only places it, but gives it a place near the top of the heap - the title is “Song of Songs”, literally meaning “the greatest of all songs”, which seems almost an affront to the Psalms and places it at least on par with Solomon's other writings (Proverbs and Ecclesiastes). How do we make sense of this, except by coming to the obvious conclusion that this Love thing must be pretty important?

There are a couple different interpretations of how the Song should be read, which affect how we understand the value in studying it. Some see it as just what it is at face value: a love story between two people. Others read it metaphorically: the love between God and His people, especially, nowadays, Christians individually and as a group. The latter is obviously safer, but I find it hard to exclude the first: basically, if God puts such value on the contents of the book, and wanted it read just metaphorically, I think He would have included at least some kind of disclaimer. At the same time, it's almost impossible, this side of Calvary especially, to miss the metaphor. And the two aren't mutually exclusive: often, in fact, the New Testament uses this very idea of bride and bridegroom to illustrate the relationship of the Church and Christ. To understand that divine love is to gain insight into proper human love, and, similarly, to understand human love is to gain insight into the love between us and Christ. And if, in fact, this relationship with Christ is to be the major theme of our lives (Galatians 2:20b: “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”), then it's extremely clear why the Song is in the Word, and why it is very much an important subject of study.

With that said, though, it is also apparent that this study cannot be taken lightly. Again from JFB, the Jews had an apt metaphor for the relationship of Solomon's writings, that of the temple he built: Proverbs is the outer court, Ecclesiastes the Holy Place, and the Song the Holy of Holies. Now, at Christ's death, the curtain of the temple was ripped apart, and we were invited into such intimacy with the divine.(Matthew 27:51). At the same time, though, we must not take lightly the audacious proposition of peering into such an inner sanctum, but instead need to approach with fear, reverence, and forethought. If we will do so, the promised reward is the awe of encountering God in a new and staggering way. But we must be ready.

Unfortunately, none of us, including myself, have the time to dig in so deeply beforehand. I'm growing, but I haven't grown nearly enough to just ad-lib it, nor do I think I ever will. So, as an alternative, I'm going to be providing a set of directions for our study, to help us navigate the passages as safely as possible, while still providing us the freedom to truly appreciate what's going on and discuss what people believe needs to be discussed. It's going to take the form of a series of questions for discussion, and I'm placing them below:

Part 1: The Human Story

Reading the passage purely as the interaction between two people:

1. What is happening here?

2. What are the motivations behind their words and actions?

3. What, if anything, strikes you as particularly virtuous?

4. Where is God's involvement in the scene?

Part 2: The Christian Story

Reading the passage as a metaphor of Christ and His people:

1. What is happening here?

2. At what stage(s) of the Christian/Church life would this occur at?

3. What motivates both God and the Christian/Church here?

4. Where does this tie into the teachings of the New Testament about the Christian life?

5. How can we practically respond?

It's my hope and prayer that this will prove useful in facilitating a worthwhile and blessed study. Prayer from others would be much appreciated, too!

Thoughts - John 10:10b - "I"

See the introduction first - it'll help!
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“I”

OK, yes, I'm going to start by drilling down really little. It has to be done. If it makes you feel any better, though, I promise that I won't try to beat this by analyzing the period at the end of the verse. Unless the need comes about when I get to that point...

Anyway, there's a great importance in this little detail of identity. “I” is hard to mistake, since it always refers to the one speaking it. Beyond that, though, it is active – I do things, as opposed to things just happening to me. Starting the statement of mission with this one little word, Christ takes possession of it, making it absolutely clear that it's His.

“I” doesn't come automatically, however. Quite the opposite, actually: there are several prerequisites assumed by its use:

Rooted identity: before one can identify oneself as “I”, who I am must be clear. Christ knew who He was: “I AM WHO I AM” (Exodus 3:14). For those of us who aren't God, and thus aren't self-existent, things aren't so easy. Thankfully, Christ took care of that, giving us, through Salvation, identity in Him (see, e.g., Romans 6:5), so that we can know who the “I” is.

Uniqueness: “I” is distinct from “we”. Although community is important (that's coming later), the mission must be accepted by each person as a singular, unique human being.

Actionability: if the “I” is to be active, than it must be able to actually act. Christ, being God and thus omnipotent, had this covered. For us, Acts 1:8: “But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you.”

Authority: finally, even if one can make a statement of “I”, that doesn't mean that he may. I can declare that I will curtail inner-city crime, but, without the authority to muster resources to my aid, such an effort will be futile at best. Similarly, were we to embark on embracing Jesus' mission under our own authority, it would be laughable. Through His death, however, “He gave [us] the right to become children of God,” (John 1:12), lending us more than enough authority to take up that charge.

So, in summary, Jesus, being God, had all that was required to take active ownership of His mission. As humans, we wouldn't, except that through His we have access to all of it. Our acceptance of a role in His mission must be predicated on rooting our identity in Him, and through that relationship understanding the uniqueness, actionability, and authority that come through Him.

Thoughts - John 10:10b - Introduction

“I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.”
John 10:10b

Misson. It's something I talk about a lot. And, with the load of management courses I'm taking right now, something I also hear a lot about. The concept of mission and vision is vitally important, because it directs and focuses one's efforts, making the difference between flailing about and accomplishing something. To me, at least, it's common and easy to think about mission in relation to businesses and churches. Lately, I've been toying with a mission for my life, too, although that's still a work in progress. In the midst of all this pondering, it came upon me that Jesus Himself had a stated mission for His foray on earth. It is, I believe, the verse quoted above.

If the Church is to be the body of Christ on earth, and Christians individually “little Christs” (the literal meaning of the term), it is of the utmost importance that we understand His mission. There are two important reasons for this: first, so that we can understand His point in the whole thing, and, second, so that we, as His followers, can continue it. So, what I want to do is break down and attempt to pick apart this brief statement, and hopefully in so doing provide a starting point for realizing these goals.

Because this has the makings of a long thought, I'm going to split it into several posts. Should make a bit simpler for you to read, and, actually, for me to write.

P.S. Sorry for the lack of posting lately – RPI has been claiming most of my writing. I'm going to try to get this whole series done over the current Spring Break, but we'll see how it goes.