Run Tails, Run!

Calvin & Hobbes & Qohelet

2008-10-04T04:02:00.000-07:00

"I have seen all the works that are done under the sun; and indeed, all is vanity and grasping for the wind. Ecclesiastes 1:14"

(click on the comic to read it more clearly)

I don't know if Bill Watterson had Ecclesiastes in mind when he penned this particular comic, but it's what sprang into my mind when I read it. Ecclesiastes (a word I consistently forget how to spell) is one of my favorite books of the Old Testament. I like it because it's an incredibly honest book, that deals with questions most people have at one point or another.

For example, what is the meaning of life? In my level six class, one of the conversation topics was just that. "What is the meaning of life?" My students were less than thrilled about the prospect of having to discuss this and instead asked "Teacher! Can we talk about cameras instead?"

We can't really avoid the question though. At one point, we all sit and ponder like the snowman in Watterson's strip. We all realize that death will one day grab us all, so what should we do in order to derive as much meaning from life as we can before the sun melts us?

Hopefully, not by pursuing material possessions, like Watterson sarcastically suggests via Calvin. Sure, we could all go out and buy big screen TV's, but somehow I doubt that can provide a meaningful existence for very long.

My astute and good looking readers may recall the blog entry from two months ago. If you don't, I'll provide an ultra condensed summary:

"ANGST. ANGST. Moses."

Basically, I was discouraged and unsure of my decision to stay in Korea an extended four months. Even though I felt God leading me to stay, I was still unsure and anxious.

I realize now that part of the reason I had become discouraged was because some of my priorities were not in order. I had allowed my personal goals and dreams to cloud my judgment, and even seeing clearly what was the right choice, I still wanted to follow what felt like a better choice at the time.

Since that time, I have come to be glad that I stayed. Sure, it hasn't always been easy here, but when I look at the students and the friends I've been able to help by being here, that I otherwise wouldn't have been able to had I left, I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm glad that I didn't run home with my tail (Run Tails, run?)between my legs when things got a little hard. I'm thankful God gave me the clarity of mind to decide to stay regardless of what my feelings had to say.

And that brings us back to Ecclesiastes (thank you Mr. Firefox spellchecker). The author of Ecclesiastes is unknown. Tradition states that it was King Solomon, but that seems all but impossible given the linguistic makeup of the book. The author refers to himself only as "Qohelet", a Hebrew title meaning "Speaker."

Qohelet laments the emptiness living a life of worldly pleasure has left him. He observes that no matter how much a man works or acquires, in death that is meaningless. He makes many profound observations, about the stupidity of a life spent alone, about the need for balance in all things, and the injustice of watching the wicked prosper. Finally, he concludes by saying:

Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter:

Fear God and keep His commandments,
For this is man’s all.
For God will bring every work into judgment,
Including every secret thing,
Whether good or evil.
Ecclesiastes 12:13-14

Qohelet realizes that the only way to find true meaning in a finite life is to serve an infinite God. We can't let anything get in the way of doing his will...not dreams, not friends. Not even family, as hard as that one is for me to swallow. Christ must go first. The satisfaction of knowing that you're doing His will is better than chasing my dreams any day.

Moses' Attitude

2008-08-18T02:50:00.000-07:00

Moses' Attitude

This is assured to be one of my less funny and less happy blog posts. And I've written about near apocalypses.

Anyway, I've been in Korea for two months now. I was supposed to be going home a week from now. But I'm not.

Nope, now I'm here until December. I'll be home just in time for Christmas. I turned in my recently signed extension contract and dropped my classes with my university- so I am well past the point of no return.

The kicker is this was incredibly hard for me to do. I didn't really want to do it.

To be wholly honest, the past two months have been the hardest I've faced in recent memory. Not because of Korea, not at all. I enjoy teaching here and living here isn't so bad.

But while I've been here I have had to deal with the loss of something indescribably important to me. And it's left me hollow inside. I mean, I have dreams in my life---and this is the one that has mattered more than any other. There are things I'd like to do in life, and there are things I have to do. This is the one thing I have to do, the thing I feel God has put me on this Earth to do.

To use metaphors, right now I'm feeling like a pilot who will never fly- like a chef who will never step foot in a kitchen- like a fire fighter who can't stop his house from burning down.

I know the situation isn't as hopeless as that, but it sure feels that way.

And while my apparent loss by no means precludes my dream of coming true, it makes things incredibly uncertain. I no longer know what to do in order to make it come true.

To use another metaphor, if I was a man lost in a forest, and my one and only dream was to find the path that would lead me out, I've been running down different paths and finding dead ends for a long time now.

But I found one path that looked like it could be the way out- and I'd been walking down it for a long time, seeing sign after sign that seemed to say that the path I was on would take me out of the forest, enough that I truly believed I'd be getting out soon. Then suddenly this path, the best path I'd ever been on, dead-ended. So I stand alone in the forest, once again lost, and now intensely disappointed and unsure if there even IS an exit.

What does this have to with staying in Korea? Well, first of all, I do like teaching here. Korea itself has been great so far and I'm not really ready to leave it yet...but at the same time, I know I can't pursue my dream here. So I desperately (and selfishly) wanted to back home and do whatever I could to find a way to get back on making MY dreams come true. Besides, emotionally, it would be easier to be at home where my family is rather than mostly alone out here in Korea.

I mean, today was my mother's birthday, and so my parents set up the web cam and I sang Happy Birthday to her over the internet. But I had to hang up when it came time to eat cake...and for the first time since arriving here I became exceedingly homesick. I'll be missing my brother's birthday too, and for the fifth year in a row I'll be away from home on mine.

Normally this hasn't bothered me as much, but I guess with all that's gone on recently it's just hard to feel like you're 12,000 miles away from the only people who care about you.

All that said, why in the world am I still here? I don't have to be. But even though it may not really be what I want, I can say without a doubt that it is what God wants. I can see him using me here and it seems I am doing good. Lots of prayer has gone into this and that much is clear.

So I choose to be like Moses.

Moses did not want to go to Egypt, at all. When God told him to go, Moses argued with him for about a chapter and a half. After God soundly beat down every logical objection to going, and Moses couldn't think of any other thing to complain about, he was forced to cry out: "O Lord, please send someone else to do it."(Exodus 4:13)

That's an all to easy excuse to make...just let somebody else do it. But it's incredibly wrong. God didn't call someone else, he called Moses, because Moses was the right person for the job. And right now, he's calling me to stay in Korea for four more months. Who am I to argue?

Indeed, Moses probably drug his feet all the way to Egypt. But God had made it pretty clear that that was where he should be. So he went.

In this world there is right and there is wrong...and that distinction, with God's help, is not difficult to make.

I am reminded of the things I said in this blog more than a year ago. If I have to put my dream on hold, so be it. It isn't always easy to do what is right, but it is necessary. After I turned in my contract I felt good knowing that I did the right thing. Had I done otherwise, I'd probably feel a little like Jonah, except on an airplane instead of a boat.

So as hard as it was to do, I'm staying in Korea. These will be an interesting four months indeed.

“Enter by the narrow gate; for wide is the gate and broad is the way that leads to destruction, and there are many who go in by it. - Matthew 7:13

Hippocleides Doesn't Care

2008-08-12T05:24:00.000-07:00

Right, so I was reading Herodotus the other day and I discovered this most fascinating story of awesome. The ending had me in fits of laughter, and it isn't everyday that something written 2500 years ago can do that.

Granted, it might just be me...but I think it's worth sharing :)
Besides, the Olympics are going on, and it's an Olympic story, sooo....

The buildup is a little long but the pay off at the end is worth it...

Cleisthenes, the son of Aristonymus, grandson of Myron, and great-grandson of Andreas, had a daughter, Agarista, whom he wished to marry to the best man in all Greece. So during the Olympic games, in which he had himself won the chariot race, he had a public announcement made, to the effect that any Greek who thought himself good enough to become Cleisthenes' son-in-law should present himself in Sicyon within sixty days - or sooner if he wished - because he intended, within the year following the sixtieth day, to betroth his daughter to her future husband. Cleisthenes had had a race-track and a wrestling-ring specially made for his purpose, and presently the suitors began to arrive - every man of Greek nationality who had something to be proud of either in his country or in himself. From Sybaris in Italy, then at the height of its prosperity, came Smindyrides the son of Hippocrates, a man noted above all others for delicate and luxurious living, and from Siris, also in Italy, came Damasus the son of Amyris who was nicknamed the Wise. Then there was Amphimnestus, the son of Epistrophus, from Epidamnus on the Ionian Gulf, and Males from Aetolia - Males, the brother of Titormus who was the strongest man in Greece and went to live in the remotest part of Aetolia to avoid living with other human beings. From the Peloponnese came Leocedes the son of Pheidon, who was tyrant of Argos and the man who brought in the system of weights and measures for the Peloponnese - and also turned out the Eleans whose duty it was to manage the Olympic games and proceeded to manage them himself - the wickedest and most arrogant thing ever done by a Greek. Next there was Amiantus, the son of Lycurgus, from Trapezus in Arcadia, and Laphanes, an Azanian from Paeus, whose father Euphorion, the story goes, received Castor and Pollux under his own roof and afterwards kept open house for all comers; and then Onomastus of Elis, the son of Agaeus. From Athens there were two: Megacles, whose father Alcmaeon visited the court of Croesus, and Tisander's son Hippocleides, the wealthiest and best-looking man in Athens. Euboea provided but a single suitor, Lysanias from Eretria, which at that time was at the height of its prosperity; then there was a Thessalian, Diactorides, one of the Scopodae, from Crannon, and, lastly, Alcon from Molossia. This was the list of suitors.

Cleisthenes began by asking each in turn to name his country and parentage; then he kept them in his house for a year, to get to know them well, entering into conversation with them sometimes singly, sometimes all together, and testing each of them for his manly qualities and temper, education and manners. Those who were young he would take to the gymnasia - but the most important test of all was their behaviour at the dinner-table. All this went on throughout their stay in Sicyon, and all the time he entertained them handsomely.

For one reason or another it was the two Athenians who impressed Cleisthenes most favourably, and of the two Tisander's son Hippocleides came to be preferred, not only for his manly virtues but also because he was related some generations back to the family of Cypselus of Corinth.

At last the day came which had been fixed for the betrothal, and Cleisthenes had to declare his choice. He marked the day by the sacrifice of a hundred oxen, and then gave a great banquet, to which not only the suitors but everyone of note in Sicyon was invited. When dinner was over, the suitors began to compete with each other in music and in talking in company. In both these accomplishments it was Hippocleides who easily proved his superiority to the rest, until at last, as more and more wine was drunk, he asked the flute-player to play him a tune and began to dance to it. Now it may well be that he danced to his own satisfaction; Cleisthenes, however, who was watching the performance, began to have serious doubts about the whole business. Presently, after a brief pause, Hippocleides sent for a table; the table was brought, and Hippocleides, climbing on to it, danced first some Laconian dances, next some Attic ones, and ended by standing on his head and beating time with his legs in the air. The Laconian and Attic dances were bad enough; but Cleisthenes, though he already loathed the thought of having a son-in-law like that, nevertheless restrained himself and managed to avoid an outburst; but when he saw Hippocleides beating time with his legs, he could bear it no longer. 'Son of Tisander,' he cried, 'you have danced away your marriage.' 'Hippocleides doesn't care,' was the reply. Hence the common saying, 'Hippocleides doesn't care.'

I mean, wow. Hippocleides spends a year of his wife trying to win the hand of this girl and ends up getting drunk and pulling off some pretty crazy dance moves. The father-in-law is ashamed of son-in-law to be's dancing but manages to stomach it until Hippocleides flips upside down and starts kicking his legs in the air. His angry "you have danced away your marriage!" is such a hilarious line...but Hippocleides takes the cake by retorting (and reffering to himself in the third person) "Hippocleides doesn't care!"

He's like "Man! Don't bother Hippocleides with that marriage baloney! Can't you see that Hippocleides is getting FUNKY!?"

This was so crazy that it became a common saying in Ancient Greece, apparently. I can just see ancient greek people saying that...:

TEACHER: Do your homework! If you don't do your homework you'll end up stupid!

STUDENT: Hippocleides doesn't care!

Or....

WIFE: Husband, you must work and earn money! We are broke!

HUSBAND: Hippocleides doesn't care!

Anyway, there's your ancient history lesson for today. Hopefully I can post another, more spiritually minded blog in the near future. And remember if anyone hassles you, just tell them that Hippocleides Doesn't Care.

Right! So! Korea!

2008-07-05T00:55:00.001-07:00

Right, So I'm In Korea

Ok, blog-readers. I've been in Korea for two weeks now and I haven't updated my blog yet. This is because I have not had regular internet access, as well as being exceedingly busy!

As you can see from the above photo, my job here is to be King. It is a hard job especially now with Koreans rioting about beef. BEEF.

These are the types of riot police I saw holding back the mob of angry beef eaters. The rioters had surrounded Seoul City hall and the police had in turn surrounded them with buses. I didn't take any pictures of my own, because what kind of person takes pictures of a RIOT? Actually, lots of my friends from orientation did as we marched through it on the way to Chongdong Theater to watch a bunch of Korean people play the drums REALLY HARD and dance around really impressively in traditional costumes.

Alright, so I'm not actually long lost Korean Royalty. But I AM an English (ESL) teacher here for the next two months, and I figure that is pretty much the same thing. Especially considering the Korean name some of the students here have given me is "Wong-Ja", meaning "Prince." I like it and hope none of my readers will assume it is because I look like a canine.

I teach two hours of adults in the morning, and three hours of children in the afternoon. Three hours of children in the afternoon is going to be interesting indeed. I like children but we're talking about a hundred different ones here.

In a week I will start teaching a Bible class in the evenings. I think I'll be doing one themed on the life of David. If any of my astute and good-looking readers would like to suggest some good resources I'm all ears.

I know essentially no Korean. I do know the words for "Hello" "Thank you" "Elephant", "Yes" "No" and of course "Prince" now. So if I'm not greeting and thanking and playing a game of 20 questions with a Royal Elephant I'm in trouble. Reading is worse because I can't read Korean letters. I've tried learning the alphabet but the sounds the letters represent are often hard for an english mind to grasp. So I now know what it's like to be an illiterate. Yay!

Well, that is all I will write right now. Next week I will be back with more information on the adventures of an Illiterate Korean Prince who can't find an elephant to talk to.

Eight Minutes In Serpukhov-15

2008-06-01T18:39:00.000-07:00

Eight Minutes In Serpukhov-15

People have been running around on this planet for quite some time now. However, it has only been in the last sixty some odd years that we have had the ability to, quite easily now, destroy all life on it. Hooray for modern technology!

While most people are aware of the cold reality that we very well *could* kill everything that we consider life, most aren't aware just how close we've come at times to doing just that.

There are the well published incidents...The Cuban Missile Crisis being chief among them, where potential war between the nuclear powerhouses of America and the Soviet Union threatened the existence of developed nations around the world. That was a very public crisis solved by heads of state, with calculated political risks made over a span of days.

But then there are the incidents that slip under the News radar, the ones that fall into a file marked Top Secret that we never hear about. With the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991 came the declassification of many of its documents, one of which contains a story that I find quite thought provoking, and you should too. It is the story of how the fate of the world may have, for a few short minutes in a bunker outside Moscow, rested in the hands of a Russian scientist named Stanislav Petrov. It sounds like a James Bond plotline - but it was real.

It was 1983, and Cold War relations between the USA and the USSR were strained at best. Soviet Primier Yuri Andropov maintained an antagonistic relationship with President Reagan, and the atmosphere in the Kremlin was one of extreme paranoia. The relationship especially soured when on September 1st, 1983, the schizophrenic USSR shot down Korean Airlines Flight 007, which it thought was infringing on its airspace. 269 people died, evidencing the kind of hair trigger it took to awaken the wrath of the USSR. And then, three weeks later, on September 26th, the entire world came close to feeling that wrath.

In the control room of the Soviet Satellite Early Warning system, located in a place called Serpukhov-15, sat Lieutenant Colonel Stanislav Petrov, who was the officer on duty, at least for this evening. This was not his job - he was a scientist, not a supervisor, but the man who normally filled this role was out and Colonel Petrov was the substitute.

Any other night, this would not have been notable. But on that day, shortly after midnight Moscow time, the satellite caught something, and it caught something scary. According to the sensors, the United States had just launched an Intercontinental Ballistic Missile, a weapon containing far more power than the bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki during WW2, straight at the Soviet Union. Then, four identical missiles appeared, all on their way towards Soviet cities.

Protocol demanded that Petrov immediately report this to his superiors. If this truly were a nuclear assault, every second mattered, and Petrov did not have time to analyze the computer data to determine if this were really an attack, or a computer error. But reporting that satellites had observed five American ICMs Russia bound could result in the USSR launching a full scale counterattack. This would assure that America would indeed launch their nuclear arsenal, population centers around the world would cease to exist, and billions would die.

It was not his place to judge the situation without proof either way, his orders were to report what the computers told him, to the same men who with only slight provocation weeks before made the decision to shoot down a harmless airliner full of civilians. But Petrov decided to take a risk, and in doing so may have saved all our lives.

“I gave the Americans the benefit of the doubt,” says Petrov. “By that time the Americans had not yet developed a national missile defense system — they still haven’t — so they knew that a nuclear attack on us was tantamount to the eradication of at least half of their population. I was convinced that the Americans were a militant nation, but not a suicidal one. I remember thinking, ‘That big an idiot has not been born yet, not even in the U.S.’ And then I grabbed the telephone and reported a false alarm to the SPRN command station.”

Petrov reported that the machines were in error. But Colonel Petrov did not know for certain this was a false alarm. He said, "I made a decision and that was it." It was only after about 15-20 agonizing minutes passed, waiting to detect if U.S. missiles were incoming, that Petrov's decision proved correct.

Regarding the Petrov incident, former Soviet KBG officer Oleg A. Gordievsky stated: "If the Soviet Union had overreacted, it could have gone very badly. If war had come, Soviet missiles would have destroyed Britain entirely, at least half of Germany and France, and America would have lost maybe 30 percent of its cities and infrastructure."

Things didn't go well for Petrov after the incident. His disobedience to protocol led to his career taking a massive hit. He now lives a lonely life on a small military stipend in Moscow. When asked about his actions that night, he is very humble, refusing to accept the honor that is due him.

We can look at stories like this and ponder how things could have gone much differently. There are other incidents we know about where machine failure came close to triggering a war, but none so dramatic as Petrov's. Of course, while Soviet documents have been declassified, not all of ours have-there are likely other such tales of terror in our own Cold War archives. The Cold War was a very dangerous time indeed, and even in 1983 the threat of World War III still loomed large.

We no longer worry about the idea of nuclear weapons raining down Armageddon across the world. For the time being at least, our enemies aren't capable of such things. But history and human nature tell us that eventually something will go awry and weapons humanity would like to forget we have will be utilized. It might take hundreds of years, but in the span of world history that is a short time indeed- especially when the radical changes of the last hundred are examined.

When we think about how close we may have come to untold disaster during the Petrov incident, it isn't hard to see a creator's hand at work. We could claim it was mere luck that caused the man who normally worked in Serpukhov-15 to fall ill or whatever and take the night off, leading to Petrov being at the right place at the right time. Or, we can acknowledge that the events of the world, however horrific they may be, are still moderated by a supernatural hand. The future will undoubtedly hold countless tragedies, but we can face them knowing that ultimately God is in control.

For then there will be great tribulation, such as has not been since the beginning of the world until this time, no, nor ever shall be. And unless those days were shortened, no flesh would be saved; but for the elect’s sake those days will be shortened. Matthew 24:21-22

If you'd like to learn more about the near-apocalypse of '83, you can read this article, which goes into far more detail than I did, or check out the Wikipedia page.

Also, you should take a few minutes to watch the trailer for a short documentary coming out shortly about Petrov.

A Conversation With Walid Ben

2008-05-16T11:25:00.000-07:00

About a week ago, I was minding my own business, when my Skype rang. Someone named "Walid Ben" wanted to talk to me. I know a Ben, and thought it might be him, so I answered. Upon hearing a foreign accent I quickly hung up and thus began a rather bizarre exchange. My dialog is blue and his is red, with my comments in black. I think it is a little amusing, don't expect any deep message, just two people who can barely understand each other arguing religion and politics.

[5:37:05 PM] Edward says: who are you?
[5:37:51 PM] walid ben says: i am algerian
[5:38:06 PM] Edward says: ok
[5:39:07 PM] Edward says: why are you contacting me?
[5:39:15 PM] Edward says: I don't know anyone in algeria
[5:39:54 PM] walid ben says: why
[5:41:14 PM] walid ben says: call me please
[5:41:23 PM] Edward says: why?
[5:42:02 PM] walid ben says: help me to learn your language
[5:42:22 PM] Edward says: we can do that through this
[5:42:47 PM] Edward says: I'm not accepting calls from people I don't know
[5:43:43 PM] walid ben says: you are not a good men (ouch, burn!)
[5:43:55 PM] Edward says: it's "man"
[5:43:59 PM] Edward says: "men" is plural
[5:44:14 PM] Edward says: one male person is a "man"
[5:44:20 PM] Edward says: two male people are "men"
[5:44:47 PM] walid ben says: i thank you for this information
[5:44:53 PM] Edward says: anytime
[5:45:30 PM] Edward says: I am an English teacher
[5:45:56 PM] Edward says: so I'm pretty much used to this kind of stuff
[5:46:31 PM] walid ben says: je ne peux pas vous parler en englais
[5:46:42 PM] Edward says: I don't speak any French
[5:46:53 PM] Edward says: I only know English, German, and Greek
[5:47:14 PM] Edward says: and a little Klingon (if Walid can call me a "not good men", then I should be allowed to have a little fun)
[5:47:20 PM] walid ben says: you speak arabic
[5:47:25 PM] Edward says: ah, no
[5:47:34 PM] Edward says: that is a rather uncommon language in America
[5:47:51 PM] Edward says: I only know the very basics
[5:48:01 PM] Edward says: "al" is "the" and whatnot
[5:48:09 PM] walid ben says: why arabic is nice language
[5:48:26 PM] Edward says: It is also completely foreign to America
[5:48:51 PM] Edward says: Klingon is a nice language but I doubt many Algerians speak it
[5:49:03 PM] Edward says: as is Koine Greek
[5:49:52 PM] Edward says: are you Muslim?
[5:50:02 PM] walid ben says: ??? ?????? ???
[5:50:20 PM] walid ben says: yes
[5:50:22 PM] Edward says: I can't read that
[5:50:36 PM] Edward says: that's interesting, I just took a class about Islam
[5:50:59 PM] walid ben says: you can speak frensh
[5:51:34 PM] Edward says: Nein, aber ich kann Deutsch spreche
[5:52:04 PM] walid ben says: what is this
[5:52:07 PM] Edward says: German
[5:52:45 PM] walid ben says: are you speaking german
[5:52:59 PM] Edward says: yes, just like you are speaking arabic
[5:53:21 PM] walid ben says: and frensh
[5:53:59 PM] Edward says: joH'a' ghaH wIj DevwI'
jIH DIchDaq Hutlh pagh
ghaH chen jIH Qot bIng Daq SuD tI yotlh
ghaH Dev jIH retlh vIHHa' bIQmey
(incidently, this is Psalms 23 in Klingon that I just copy and pasted in)
[5:54:15 PM] Edward says: That is Klingon
[5:54:46 PM] Edward says: Languages are fun
[5:54:50 PM] walid ben says: you are loud in german (Walid can't tell the difference between German and Klingon)
[5:55:22 PM] Edward says: German is a great language
[5:55:34 PM] Edward says: Better when spoken loudly
[5:55:46 PM] walid ben says: speak me by frensh please (man, Walid is demanding!)
[5:55:54 PM] Edward says: I don't speak french
[5:56:06 PM] Edward says: I have friends who study french
[5:56:24 PM] Edward says: but I never had the desire
[5:56:49 PM] Edward says: Je ne parle pas français
[5:56:55 PM] walid ben says: you want to learn it
[5:57:08 PM] Edward says: traduit par le biais de Google
[5:57:17 PM] Edward says: pas vraiment
[5:57:40 PM] walid ben says: why
[5:57:46 PM] Edward says: Pas une langue que j'ai une grande utilité pour
[5:58:38 PM] Edward says: Je préfère apprendre le latin ou coréen
[5:58:42 PM] walid ben says: you like bush
[5:58:52 PM] Edward says: Bush is ok
[5:58:58 PM] Edward says: I voted for him
[5:59:03 PM] Edward says: he could do better
[5:59:28 PM] Edward says: but I would prefer him to the competition
[5:59:31 PM] walid ben says: il est criminel de guerre (means "he is a war criminal")
[5:59:51 PM] Edward says: I don't need a translator to know what that said
[6:00:16 PM] Edward says: Why do you believe him to be a criminal?
[6:00:33 PM] Edward says: Bush has done nothing to offend Algeria
[6:01:16 PM] walid ben says: irak is our frether
[6:01:36 PM] Edward says: Saudi Arabia colonized Algeria
[6:01:52 PM] walid ben says: no
[6:02:29 PM] Edward says: The Arabs brought Islam to the Persian empire
[6:02:37 PM] Edward says: the Persian Empire was Iraq
[6:03:31 PM] Edward says: I don't know which of these two brought Islam to Algeria
[6:03:45 PM] Edward says: but the progenitor was Mecca, not Baghdad
[6:04:02 PM] Edward says: in any case, it belonged to the Byzantines before that
[6:04:03 PM] walid ben says: iran is nucleare state you can't do anything it
[6:04:17 PM] Edward says: I'm scared
[6:04:24 PM] Edward says: I don't want Iran to nuke us!
[6:04:40 PM] Edward says: We don't have any way to retaliate!
[6:04:43 PM] Edward says: boohoo
[6:05:25 PM] Edward says: Besides, Iran is Shia (and I knew that Algeria is Sunni, so I was perplexed as to why he believed Iran to be their savior)
[6:05:43 PM] walid ben says: you want to visite algeria
[6:05:51 PM] Edward says: Not especially
[6:07:28 PM] walid ben says: je suis un ingénieur en chimie et vous (Walid had just informed me that he is a chemical engineer. )
[6:07:56 PM] Edward says: I study english and religion
[6:07:58 PM] Edward says: I am a teacher
[6:09:03 PM] walid ben says: tu veut ètre musliman
[6:09:22 PM] Edward says: can you say that in english?
[6:10:54 PM] walid ben says: you want to be a muslim
[6:11:00 PM] Edward says: no
[6:11:03 PM] Edward says: I am a Christian
[6:11:06 PM] walid ben says: why
[6:11:23 PM] Edward says: because I believe Jesus was the Son of God
[6:11:36 PM] Edward says: and I do not believe in Mohammud
[6:12:20 PM] Edward says: I have studyed the Quran
[6:12:33 PM] Edward says: It is a fascinating book
[6:12:48 PM] Edward says: but I do not believe it be the word of God
[6:13:18 PM] walid ben says: we are believing in moussa and ..... (I googled Moussa, apparently he's the secretary general of the league of Arab states...I haven't a clue what he meant by the ellipsis)
[6:14:47 PM] walid ben says: what is fascinating in frensh
[6:15:44 PM] Edward says: The french themselves are pretty fascinating
[6:17:29 PM] walid ben says: the quran is very a good book
[6:17:36 PM] Edward says: It is poetic
[6:17:40 PM] Edward says: I have read a lot of it
[6:18:02 PM] walid ben says: have you one
[6:18:08 PM] Edward says: yes
[6:18:14 PM] Edward says: and a book of Mormon
[6:18:19 PM] Edward says: and Hindu scriptures
[6:18:24 PM] Edward says: Like I said, I study religions
[6:18:35 PM] walid ben says: garde it (en garde!)
[6:19:02 PM] Edward says: I respect it because it is an important book to many people
[6:19:29 PM] Edward says: But there are parts I do not think a good person should follow
[6:20:05 PM] Edward says: I don't think a man should beat his wife under any circumstances

(I have indeed completed a course on Islam, and found some very disturbing things. The condonement of wife-beating as punishment for a disrespectful wife being chief among them)

(this is a real verse from the Quran: Men are the managers of the affairs of women for that God has preferred in bounty one of them over another, and for that they have expended of their property. Righteous women are therefore obedient, guarding the secret for God's guarding. And those you fear may be rebellious admonish; banish them to their couches, and beat them. If they then obey you, look not for any way against them; God is All high, All great. )

(even more disturbing are stories from the Hadith, or the "Life of Mohammad." such as this:
"A woman came to Muhammad and begged her to stop her husband from beating her. Her skin was bruised so badly that it was greener than the green veil she was wearing. Muhammad did not admonish her husband, but instead ordered her to return to him and submit to his sexual desires.")

(I'm quite happy that no one can accuse the head of my religion of being a wife-beating pedophile, but Walid changes the subject)

[6:20:34 PM] walid ben says: open your skype
[6:20:44 PM] Edward says: skype is open
[6:20:56 PM] Edward says: we're talking through it right now
[6:21:29 PM] walid ben says: skype is open just for messages
[6:21:41 PM] Edward says: yes
[6:21:49 PM] Edward says: It will stay that way ( I really don't want to talk to Walid)
[6:22:15 PM] Edward says: your english skills aren't speech ready yet anyway
[6:22:21 PM] walid ben says: i want to speak you
[6:22:23 PM] Edward says: better keep with the written
[6:24:22 PM] walid ben says: dans quelle willaya habitez-vous
[6:25:04 PM] Edward says: How do I live?
[6:25:12 PM] Edward says: I don't understand the question
[6:25:35 PM] walid ben says: translate it
[6:25:44 PM] Edward says: I did
[6:25:57 PM] Edward says: "willaya" isn't in google's dictionary
[6:26:30 PM] walid ben says: willaya = country
[6:26:54 PM] Edward says: I live in America
[6:27:03 PM] Edward says: I was born here
[6:27:37 PM] walid ben says: now have you interstood
[6:27:44 PM] Edward says: yay!
[6:27:54 PM] Edward says: I interstand!
[6:28:03 PM] Edward says: "interstand" isn't a word
[6:28:07 PM] Edward says: you need
[6:28:10 PM] Edward says: "understand"
[6:29:04 PM] walid ben says: this is not an grand error
[6:29:17 PM] Edward says: no
[6:29:25 PM] Edward says: but the average american would laugh at you
[6:30:16 PM] walid ben says: you like iran president (seriously, does Walid expect me to like him?)
[6:30:23 PM] Edward says: No
[6:30:31 PM] walid ben says: why
[6:30:33 PM] Edward says: I have nothing against Iran (I mean the Iranian people-their government is a tad whacked)
[6:30:41 PM] Edward says: but I am a friend of Israel
[6:31:21 PM] walid ben says: and algeria
[6:31:31 PM] Edward says: yeah, I have nothing against Algeria
[6:32:19 PM] walid ben says: sadam
[6:32:24 PM] Edward says: no
[6:33:24 PM] Edward says: he commited Genocide agaisnt the kurds
[6:34:24 PM] walid ben says: i have'nt understood anything
[6:34:28 PM] Edward says: sorry
[6:34:51 PM] Edward says: il a commis le génocide CONTRE Les Kurdes
[6:35:34 PM] Edward says: Il a été meurtrier de masse
[6:36:23 PM] walid ben says: you can to say it me in arabic
[6:36:46 PM] Edward says: I'm sorry
[6:36:52 PM] Edward says: Google can't do that
[6:37:03 PM] Edward says: ???? ?????? ???????
[6:37:06 PM] Edward says: I guess it can
[6:37:07 PM] walid ben says: always you are sorry
[6:37:16 PM] Edward says: ok
[6:37:23 PM] Edward says: I will be more rude in the future
[6:38:32 PM] walid ben says: have you friends in algeria
[6:38:36 PM] Edward says: no
[6:38:51 PM] Edward says: I have friends in Italy and Korea
[6:38:54 PM] Edward says: but not Algeria
[6:38:55 PM] walid ben says: tu ment ( I have no idea what this means)
[6:39:20 PM] Edward says: yes
[6:39:24 PM] walid ben says: i am your friend
[6:39:47 PM] Edward says: thank you
[6:40:12 PM] walid ben says: help you to learn arabic
[6:40:37 PM] Edward says: better start with the alphabet
[6:41:40 PM] walid ben says: this need of pronouncing
[6:42:03 PM] Edward says: I don't really need to learn Arabic right now
[6:42:43 PM] walid ben says: german
[6:42:59 PM] Edward says: I took a class in german, yes
[6:43:13 PM] Edward says: to better my understanding of English
[6:43:49 PM] walid ben says: yes
[6:45:37 PM] walid ben says: bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb (I have no idea what this is all about...)
[6:45:50 PM] Edward says: (bow)
[6:46:00 PM] walid ben says: rtetyyurghghjghbcdr (Walid seems to have melted down)
[6:46:37 PM] Edward says: pretty much
[6:46:42 PM] Edward says: such wisdom
[6:46:51 PM] walid ben says: this is a confidential language
[6:46:59 PM] Edward says: really?
[6:47:05 PM] Edward says: Like hexadecimal?
[6:47:18 PM] Edward says: or Pig-Latin?
[6:47:36 PM] walid ben says: the second
[6:48:04 PM] Edward says: ok
[6:48:06 PM] Edward says: fun
[6:49:06 PM] Edward says: Well, Mr Walid, I am sorry to leave you
[6:49:12 PM] Edward says: but I must eat supper now
[6:49:16 PM] Edward says: good bye
[6:49:21 PM] Edward says: good luck learning english
[6:50:37 PM] walid ben says: I'm slyping good night

And thus concludes my conversation with Walid Ben. I don't have any great spiritual lessons for you right now, but promise to post a real devotional by the end of the week. My past few weeks were busy while I tried to get my Korean papers in order, but this week has pretty much nothing going on. So I'll get SOMETHING new posted....

Listen To My Heart, Yardstick

2008-04-13T16:35:00.000-07:00

-
Again, a huge jump between updates! School has given me quite a lot to do. In about a month I'll be done though, so perhaps I'll be able to resume weekly updates when summer rolls around.

This time, I have something a little different. You get to watch someone else give the object lesson and the sermon. I will of course provide my share of comments for you to read afterwards
:)

This is a sermon from the Moody Science Institute, which used to (perhaps still does?) put out very thought provoking sermons based on science. My family has a set of tapes from them, all of which date back to the 1950's. This is one of those sermons, which I ripped myself with a TV-Card, so you'll have to put up with a little VHS residue. It's 26 minutes long, and it is definitely worth a watch!

So click the little button below and prepare to be amazed!

Listen to my heart..................Yaaaaaaaardstiiiick

Moody Science - Time and Eternity

My comments below, watch the video first!

While I worked in the library at Southern, I would often give myself assignments to do during slow nights. One night, I decided I would learn to comprehend Time/Space relativity. Did I accomplish my task? NOT AT ALL. I spent two hours reading about how this works, and I could probably spend the rest of my life studying it and never get it. Einstein "discovered" it with his formula of E=Mc2, but I doubt he grasped it entirely either.

It's one of those incredible facts of science that give you a better understanding as to just how amazing and incomprehensible God really is.

Watching Dr. Moon's sermon definitely made me ponder my past a little. Once again, I am reminded just how important our time usage is. This video was made in 1955, and Dr. Moon is almost certainly dead. But go far enough out into space and he's busy making the video we just watched (at least from the perception of the far away viewer.)

And it made me realize again that we can't just discard the past because it exists only in our memories (if that.) What we did in the past will once again be put in front of us, and only an omnipotent, omnipresent, and omnitempus (I made a new word! from the Latin, meaning "all times") God can erase our sins from it.

And we can trust that he will do just that. So make the best use of your time while you have it, never taking for granted the sheer wonder of God's gift of forgiveness.

As far as the east is from the west,so far has He removed our transgressions from us.
Psalm 103:12

Fiction February #2 - Brandr eða leita lofa

2008-02-06T19:35:00.000-08:00

The second entry for "Fiction February" is a piece crafted for creative writing about a year ago. Having read the Grœnlendinga Saga, I was inspired to write a piece of historical fiction using it as a background. I had a twenty page epic in mind and ended up writing only seven pages when the demands of vague historical accuracy became difficult to maintain. Mrs. Pyke also thought it absurd that 10th century Danes would speak Shakespearean English. So while it ends rather abruptly, it was certainly fun to write. Also, Mrs. Pyke said that the bard in the story "is certainly some ancestor of mine, for he shares my verbose style." As for the theme, it seemed humorous to send a Viking on a quest not for some random object, but for love instead. That quickly became a problem, as you can see...

Brandr eða leita lofa

(Brandr and the Quest for Love)

The smell of alcoholic beverages filled the air of the crowded, poorly lit mead hall. Arnfastr the Dane leaned over a kettle of mead, half-drunken and bored. He and his men had spent the entire day patching holes in their longboats preparing for the long voyage to England, and they were ready for entertainment. None was presenting itself, and they were about to start stabbing each other when the door to the mead house slowly slid open.

Cold air and ice flew in from the frigid Danish night, and a frost covered stranger wearing a feathered hat crept in. All eyes in the building glided onto him.

“Prithee, gentle Northman, might I seek refuge from the winter night within thy mead hall?” the man asked, an earnest look in his face.

Arnfastr merely looked puzzled, and stared at the feather in the stranger’s hat. The rest of the men began to murmur quietly.

“I am Jørge, of Dublin. I have just returned from faraway Ireland to bring a most fascinating thing to the land of Denmark. I am a bard, and I sing tales of extraordinary heroes, to help while away these cold winter nights” said the man, hoping to catch their attention.

“Sing us a tale, and if we like it, thou may stay.” replied Arnfastr, as his men began to applaud their good fortune.

The bard removed his hat and coat, pulled up a glass of mead, and began to sing:

In the days of King Forkbeard, 1000 AD

When men sailed through

The land where dragons be

A young man, Brandr the True

Embarked on a journey…

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He knew this day would come, yet he had been dreading it. Ever since his eighteenth birthday, when he refused to join a raiding party destined for England, he had been unpopular amongst the clan. He knew they would ask again, and a second refusal would have dire consequences.

Brandr watched the Jarl approach, high atop a steed. The Jarl was clad in leather, with green designs painted on large shoulder pads. He had a long, blonde beard which was rather unkempt. Two Huskarls followed closely behind, their swords brandished. Brandr ran outside his house to meet them.

“Brandr, son of Magnus, I hear thou hast been courting mine daughter, Ingridr. I wouldst have none of it. Thou art not fit to be the son in law of a Jarl.” roared the Jarl through his beard.

“I wouldst be loyal and provide her every need!” answered Brandr.

“Fool! Thy name means “sword”, yet ye refuse to join our war parties. I offer one final chance to thee. Join our ranks, and I will give ye Ingridr’s hand in marriage.”

Brandr was an odd boy. He had no desire to help the King conquer England, he had heard reports that a new, uninhabited land, Green Land, had been discovered. Why did they need to conquer somebody else’s land? However, he did wish to marry Ingridr.

“My name means firewood, not sword.” replied Brandr. “But I will join thy ranks.”

And join, he did. He was given the armaments of a Viking Warrior, and set sail immediately towards England. There was a long sea journey, followed by a long campaign of pillaging and village razing. Brandr was an unorthodox Viking, and spared many victims.

The entire time, his thoughts were on Ingridr. He couldn’t wait to return home, to marry her. At last, his tour concluded and he returned to his village, to find that in his absence, Ingridr had married another.

Brandr was a now broken man. He could no longer live happily in that village, so he packed supplies, stole the Jarl’s horse, and fled north. He continued to flee north until forest turned to sea, and then he fled west until reaching a port. He considered fleeing back east again, but then a better idea came to him.

“Green Land,” he thought to himself. “I may flee to Green Land, verily.” Yes, Green Land, a land so Green, so temperate, that the man who discovered named it Green Land. It wasn’t like Denmark, land of frigid winters and colder women. Green Land was a fresh start, a new opportunity. He could find a lady, settle down, and live a life of seclusion there, far away from the cares of the world.

But first, he needed to find passage. He sold the horse to some Swedes who had just arrived in the country, for enough gold to purchase his passage to Green Land. He had to wait four months for the boat to be readied, but the time passed quickly as he dreamed of the pretty girls of Green Land. He often wondered why people laughed at him when he told them where he was going.

It was a long sea voyage from Denmark to Green Land, especially in a longboat. Brandr passed his time by growing an impressive beard.

At last, the Green Land coast appeared on the horizon. It was mid summer at the time, and Green Land was indeed Green. Brandr exited the boat, and began his quest for love.

It proved to be a very pathetic quest, as it quickly occurred to him that there were no single women in Green Land. Colonization had barely begun a decade prior, and single women could not afford nor did they desire to go to a land like Green Land. There was only one, an elderly woman who had no teeth…

“Thy song bores me, Bard. Perhaps thou mayest liven it up, or perhaps my men shall make ye eat thy feather!” yelled Arnfastr. The rest of the men in the mead hall began to look restless.

“I beg thy apologies” replied Jørge, a little nervous. “I was just reaching the exciting part.”

The old woman was actually a witch in disguise, and when Brandr refused to marry her, she called upon the powers of the pagan goddess Hel, who summoned a mighty dragon to attack Green Land. It was the Nidhogg, the most feared creature of all Norse mythology. Brandr was caught unarmed, and was forced to fist-fight it. The battle lasted for two months and six days, but at the end he was victorious.

When it was over, he was very tired and slept for a month. When he awoke, he found that Green Land had changed. It was now winter, and it was very cold. He realized that not only were there no girls in Greenland, there was also very little green.

Distraught, he began to inquire as to why a land that was arctic for most of the year would be called Green Land. He was sent to see a man named Leifr, who told him of how his father, Eiríkr, had discovered a giant block of ice floating in the ocean. Eiríkr claimed it in the name of the Vikings, and in order to attract settlers he had named it “Green Land.”

Leifr was very apologetic about the whole thing, having recently converted to a strange religion called Christianity. He didn’t think that his god would approve of such false advertising, and wanted to make up for his father’s deception. Leifr was an explorer himself, and offered Brandr a chance to join in his expedition. He accepted, and within six hard, cold months, Brandr was back at sea, headed west.

What was west of Greenland? Nobody knew. A man named Bjarni had told Leifr that a large, forested land possibly existed there, but he had no proof.

Brandr was becoming an excellent rower, and his beard was easily the most impressive out the whole crew. He was still an unhappy man, though. He didn’t care what was west of Greenland, as long there were ladies there.

Soon, they encountered many long, barren, rocky islands. Leifr was excited about this, as it seemed to confirm the rumors of a new land further west. He called the place “Land of The Flat Stones,” and pushed the crew on.

A week later, a strange, wooded coast appeared on the horizon. The men sailed along the enormous shore line, following it. There were many, many trees there, and Leifr, who always knew an apt name when he saw one, called it “Wood Land.”

As they sailed along the shore, Brandr realized that he had been away from Ingridr and his homeland for more than a year. Everyone was excited to find this new, bountiful place, but the social opportunities seemed very scarce here. He wondered if people lived here at all.

Finally, Leifr ordered the boat ashore. It was the middle of October now, and the men had no desire to continue sailing into the winter months. They decided to spend the winter there, in the unknown land.

The men spent the first month ashore exploring. It was a temperate region, full of open fields, forests, and meadows. Leifr named it “Meadow Land,” and soon they were constructing wooden shacks to live in.

There were ample resources to be found here, abundant salmon, wild fruit, and green grass even through the winter. It was a far better place than Green Land.

But Brandr still could not be happy. The life of an explorer was empty to him. Many of the men had wives back home, waiting for them. Brandr had no one.

Still, Brandr was stuck in Meadow Land until the rest of the men decided to leave. Finally, spring rolled around, and the crew began to get homesick. Leifr decided to sail back to Green Land, to tell of this new discovery. The men repaired the boat, and soon Brandr was at sea again.

Brandr hated the water. He liked forests. He wondered if his quest would ever end. He wondered if he should return to Denmark.

“But the night turns to day, fellow Norseman, and I grow weary of the song.” said the Bard, yawning a little. Some of the men were asleep, some were too drunk to care, but some were seated in anticipation.

“Did he slay another dragon?” asked one, who obviously had enjoyed that part of the story.

“Prithee, tell me, did he ever find what he was looking for?” asked Arnfastr.

“That is a song for another night. I thank ye all, kind Norsemen, for the shelter of thy mead hall. I will go shortly, but I, Jørge Brandrsen, vow to return to finish my tale, verily.” answered the bard, who then fell asleep.

Fiction February #1- Weeoniweekeenee Blues

2008-02-06T18:17:00.000-08:00

After a long silence, I have decided it is time to resume updates. I have some creative writing pieces I haven't shared yet, but they are slightly different than the previous fare. I prefer to write non-fiction personal narratives about me being stupid. However, in the past I have also at times delved into the realm of fiction. I'm afraid I'm a bit less "Uncle Arthur" at times with my earlier pieces, and this piece predates everything you've seen up till now. I wrote this as a Sophomore in high school. I would have been not quite 16 at the time.

It was a typical English class writing assignment that ended up bringing me fame and infamy. I submitted it to a Creative Writing contest from La Sierra University, and to my surprise, I won First Place. The prize was $100 dollars, but I couldn't claim it because I was a racist. Apparently, after the judges presented their chosen entry to the school board, the board screamed "We can't reward this boy! He used the very derogatory word "Indian" to describe someone of the Native American persuasion! Oh well, easy come, easy go. It's been so long since I wrote it that I have a hard time feeling like it's actually mine, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. Some parts I am quite proud of, and other times it's like WHAT WAS I THINKING!?

It is the first thing I ever wrote I'll actually claim as mine though, so it's special to me. The very first thing was about an Archaeologist creatively named Edward and his retarded assistant named Achoo who went around the world finding artifacts together. There were about five two page chapters that are safely buried in my 4th grade notebooks, hopefully never to see the light of the internet.

Anyway, here's the "racist" story. As usual, blogspot wreaks havoc with the formatting....

Weeoniweekeenee Blues

My name is Travis Henderson. I work as a sheriff for the government. It can be emotional work, sometimes requiring me to evict people from their property. During the summer of 1924 I was sent to small town in Kansas, to help plot out some new park land. Most of the evictions were standard fare, until the local deputy pointed me towards a dwelling which was indistinguishable from the great amounts of plant life which had found a home there. The wacky kind of look on the deputy's face as he sent me into "Crazy Old Man Tanner’s" house didn’t seem like a good sign.

I’d dealt with difficult evictees before; this couldn’t be much worse then the Howell eviction, and certainly no worse than the Drysdale eviction. I felt pretty confidant in my abilities, and went towards the Tanner house with confidence.

After much scrutiny, I managed to find what appeared to be the door. No sooner had I begun knocking, then I was greeted by a raspy, loud voice.

"Who’s rattin’ on me door?

"Sheriff Henderson", I replied.

"Law enforcement! Well how ye doin?" said the voice behind the door, which then opened with a surprising amount of force.

Before me stood a tall, elderly man wearing little more then overalls.

"Come in! Come in!, I sure ain’t never had an officer of the law show up at me door before!"

I was then grabbed, and pulled indoors (although indoors was little different than outdoors). "I’ll sit you here in me best chair an’ we can talk! Name’s Jake Tanner."

Attempts at reason proved ineffective. "Mr. Tanner, I have something I need to discuss with you, so if you would---" I was interrupted.

"I was a rancher ‘round here say... forty-five year’ago".

"That’s good sir. Now-"

"I had nearly... twelve cows" interrupted Tanner.

Realizing that I was not going to get anywhere with this, I decided to allow him to finish introducing himself.

"Near...Say...1867 was it? Ner, mighta been round ‘77. These fellows decided ta build a railroad ‘cross the state. Now this wes’ fine en’dandy’ cept they didn’t have enough cash ta’ finish building that sucker."

"Couldn’t they take out a loan?’ I meekly responded

"Maybe they shoulda‘, but they durn’t."

"Durn’t?" said I, questioning his grammar.

"Durn’t."

"Sir, may ask how this relates to today?" My request fell on deaf ears.

"Now they got ‘round halfway done when they quit, and to make back some of ‘dare losses they ripped up all the iron they laid down an’sold it. So what you got was this line o’ripped up ground an this tall iron pole which was gonna do somethin’ but I never found out an’ I didn’t care’ cause it durn’t matter"

While I was trying to digest this convoluted information, Tanner pulled out an apple and began to chew between words.

"Now when you got this big metal pole stickin’ out in a plain, it’d look kinda odd eh?

I agreed.

"There was’ this small Indian tribe, you see, an-"

It was my turn to interrupt. "Sir, I’m not here to discuss..." I had meant to say "Indians", but I didn’t finish because he kept right on talking.

"-and they were sorta like outcasts from normal Indians, ya see, ‘cause their name was Weeoniweekeenee which meant somethin’ in some Indian lang-oo-age. Not sure which lang-oo-age or’ which tribe named em’ but their name translates to...er..."

He had paused. Now was my chance! "There is going to be some new park land here and..."

"Good! Good!" he burst out. "Now, their name meant ‘They who are not so bright.’ an’ they was right named too. It was sorta like an Indian funny farm, only no white coated boys!.

This amused Tanner because he laughed for a good thirty seconds or so, spitting out what little apple was left in his mouth. After calming down, he went back into his odd narrative.

"There was only ‘round a dozen Weeoniweekeenee, an’ their leader’s name was "Great Chief Buffalo Biscuits" which was a odd name even fer an Indian." Anyways, this chief was out runnin’ around through the area the other Indians gave ‘im. If I can member right, it was round a dozen acres, an’ wouldn’t ya know it? That metal pole them railroad fellows left behind happened to right smack in the middle!"

He then handed me an apple, which I accepted gratefully. I didn’t figure on being able to leave here anytime soon anyway.

"Well, if you was a half-crazy Indian, an’ you never seen a metal pole like that before, an you didn’t have nuthin’ to do, what would you do?"

He must not have expected me to answer because he did not stop.

"He wandered right up to it an just sorta stared. Don’t know how long he stared but it musta been awhile. Anyways, thats how I found ‘im. Standing there lookin’ at that pole. I walked over an’ spoke what little Indian I knew. He asked what that pole was an’ I tol‘im. You know what I said it was?

Another question I wasn’t supposed to answer.

"I tol’im it was a sorta like a spirit stick, you know like a divining rod? I tol’im that if he leaned up ‘gainst it and just put is’ear to it the Great Spirit would talk to’im an’ he would be like a prophet."

He laughed again, not quite as long, but since he wasn’t eating apple this time it wasn’t as painful.

"Would ya’ believe he took my word for it? He parked ‘imself right gainst it en’never left ‘cept once a week to relieve im’self.

"But how did he survive? Who fed him?" I asked, surprised I had got some words in, and even more surprised that I cared.

"His fellow Weeoniweekeenee brought ‘im his vittles, en’ ‘ol Buffalo Biscuits just et it up, right there. You know what’s even funnier? That pole was holler, en when the wind blew, it kinda made a whislin’ noise. Mister Biscuits knew this was the great spirit talkin’ to ‘im."

"Did it ever tell him anything?" I asked, hoping he would finish up and allow me to get to business.

"It sure did, that ol’ chief interpreted many words of wisdom from that ol’pole. It tol’im such wise things as " Saddle Green Happy." en’ "Fuzzy Sitting Beef".

This was followed by such a boisterous explosion of laughter and knee slapping that a light sprinkle of dust fell from the ceiling into my eyes.

"He’s still there, he is! If you go out past Johnson Ridge an’ walk past toad hill he’ll be right there! Ask ‘im if the spirit’s talkin today!"

As he was saying this, my patience left me. The park would just have to wait until Mr. Tanner passed on, or make a monument out of him or something. I picked up my hat and as I made my way towards the door, he called after me.

"Wait! I’ve got another story ‘bout a bear, a bandit, and a pair of stilts!

"Another time" I replied.

"Another time" He replied, in a voice marked by loneliness.

What Will You Do With 1927?

2007-10-11T10:16:00.000-07:00

This was the final creative writing piece that I hadn't shared yet. After a two month span of posting nothing, I guess it is high time I post it.

What Will You Do With 1927?

Working in the library has certain perks. One of which is that I have access to the basement periodicals storeroom, where we keep lots and lots of really old Adventist magazines and also the cryogenically frozen James White. I’m talking about the Southern Accent from 1945, The Signs of the Times from 1918, and the Review and Herald from 82 B.C.

That’s why I was down there last night. Someone from another Adventist library was looking for a particular article by a particular author from Signs of the Times, but didn’t know what year this article was written in. We narrowed it down to before 1945 because that was when the author died. This meant I had to look through all of the pre-1945 issues of Signs of the Times in search of this article.

I don’t think my boss knew what she was doing when she gave me this assignment. I enjoyed it far too much and got very little work done. You see, when I discover an article about the Adventist perspective of Calvin Coolidge’s inaugural address, I’m going to have to read it, all of it. Or an article about whether women should be allowed to smoke, accompanied by a picture of some 20’s flapper smoking a cigar that would make Colombo blush, I’m going to have to read that too. I’m weird that way.

Nearly every article was fascinating. These were magazines that my great-grandfather could have and probably did read as a young man, between milking cows by hand and plowing fields with a horse-drawn plow.

I learned a lot about the past that night. Some things have changed dramatically, while others are largely the same. They had a lot of the same problems we did, although many to a lesser degree. A 1923 article about divorce explained in loud bold letters the horror of a one in every eight marriage divorce rate. That actually sounded pretty reasonable to my jaded, 21^st century mindset, where we have a marriage failure rate of about one in every two. Another article talked about Hollywood sleaze, sex, violence, and its affect on people. The scary thing is that it was written in 1925, and the “movies” they were talking about were silent films in the vein of Charlie Chaplain, The Little Rascals, and early Laurel and Hardy. If only they could see us now, I wondered. How far have we fallen?

Looking back with today’s knowledge was bizarre. A 1928 article detailed the unveiling of a Japanese monument commemorating Admiral Perry’s 19^th century expedition to Japan. It showed an American flag and the flag of Imperial Japan flying side by side. It talked about how this monument would lead to a new friendship between the two countries. Would they have believed me about Pearl Harbor and the A-bomb if I told them? I wondered. There was also much talk of what they called the “Great War” and how they must be vigilante lest it happen again. World War I was still very fresh in their minds, and despite all their rhetoric about peace and vigilance many young parents reading these articles would eventually see their children fight and die in World War II.

The article that impacted me the most, however, was one titled What Will You Do With 1927? It was written at the end of 1926 and it was some sort of end of the year devotional. It said things like “Doubtless there are a hundred spots in the pathways of 1926 that you would retrace…but alas, the clock never turns backward. The past has passed, forever!” and “1927. Do you want to live its three hundred and sixty-five days so that when December 31 comes around you will have no regrets?” and “Keep your sins forgiven in 1927” and “The year 1927 may be the beginning of eternity for you…” and finally “…choose Jesus in 1927!”

Oddly enough, if you substitute 2007 for 1927 the entire article becomes relevant to today. It was upon understanding this that I came face to face with my own mortality. That had never happened in the library before, and it was eerie. Chances are that basically every person who read that article in 1926 is dead now. Did they choose Jesus in 1927? In 1938? In 1952? In 1975? In 1992? Did they live their remaining days with no regrets?

Then I realized that I too will likely one day look back on my life and wonder if I did all that I could for Christ. I know I’m not going to lie on my death bed and regret I hadn’t spent more time watching TV, or on the internet, or pursuing selfish goals. Nobody ever looks back and says, “Boy did I ever watch some good TV in my day!” So why do I do these things?

No, if I have any regrets, it will be because I didn’t live like a Christian should, or I wasn’t the best husband and father I could have been, or I selfishly squandered my time on Earth chasing vain pursuits. The words of Ecclesiastes came to mind…Vanity of vanities…all is vanity and grasping for the wind.

Logically, we as Christians should live for Heaven. The only thing that we can take with us to heaven is other people. Everything else is mere grasping for the wind. Jesus spent great amounts of his time helping and witnessing to other people, and when he wasn’t doing that he was resting or communing with God. If all Christians spent their time so unselfishly, how much more effective would our witness be?

Many families fall apart because they don’t spend time with each other. Workaholics, dads who spend more time on their computers than with their wives and children, mothers who let the television baby-sit for them, these stories are all over. Is it any wonder the divorce rate has quadrupled in the last 80 years? Time management is imperative in families, and I pray that God will mold me into a man that will put God and family first.

But it isn’t easy to just throw everything else aside. This isn’t to say I think a little meaningless entertainment is bad, as long as it is kept in balance and in priority with the things that really matter.

Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. In other words, our hearts are in what we spend our time with. There are days when I feel too tired to get out of bed in time to do devotions, yet still find time to check my email or Myspace.

And I need to stop that, I resolved right there in the middle of the library. How are you managing your time? What are you doing with 2007? Are you living for Jesus? There is little that is worse than a wasted life. Live so that when you make it to your death bed, you can lean back and say to yourself “Yes…that was a job well done.”

Perhaps one day, in 2087, a periodical desk worker in the McKee Library of the future may discover this article. At that point I will be either dead or 101 years old. In either case, live for Jesus in 2088 and say hi to my great grandchildren. Thanks!

“So teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” – Psalm 90:12

Epilogue: While the author was composing the final paragraph of this article, his phone rang. Perplexed as to who was calling him, he answered and was greeted with a familiar southern drawl. “Hello Benjeeeemen, this is Betty down at Blood Assurance, we’re low on O negative blood raught now and could really use yer help…” said the voice on the other end. He knew that the blood bank wanted him to donate. He has an uncommon blood type which is highly sought after for transfusions, because it has universal compatibility. He is in the habit of donating because he doesn’t think God would have given him magic blood if he didn’t intend for him to share it. Unfortunately, the author is incredibly busy, what with a movie project, two essays, a portfolio, soccer games, and creative writing assignments. He was about to tell Betty of Blood Assurance that he didn’t have the time to help her out when he realized his hypocrisy and signed up for a Friday appointment.

Here Are Some Bible Verses That I Dislike

2007-08-11T12:03:00.000-07:00

Thomas Jefferson, the 3^rd president of the United States, was a fascinating man. He had quite a few ideas as to what the new nation should become; having been there since the start (he was the man who wrote the declaration of independence, after all.) He’d be very disappointed to see that none really came to fruition. Jefferson envisioned a nation of small, self-sufficient farmers, while his rival Alexander Hamilton pushed towards industrialization. With less then 3% of the modern US working population affiliated with agriculture, it really isn’t hard to see whose idea won out.

Jefferson also had some revolutionary ideas about religion that contrasted the conservative Hamilton. Hamilton’s ideas won out (today’s America is really a result of many of the things Hamilton did, but the average American knows little about him besides that he’s on the $10 bill.) But this isn't a history lesson, it's a lesson about Jefferson and his Bible.

Thomas Jefferson had a Bible. He also had a pair of scissors. He had a habit of using the two at the same time. You see, Jefferson was a Deist, and Deists believe that God created the universe, and then left it alone. This doesn’t match up with many of the things in the Bible, and so when Jefferson found something in his Bible that he didn’t like, he cut it out.

He removed anything remotely supernatural, including all hints of Jesus’ divinity, which he considered an invention of the disciples. He went so far as to publish an excerpt from his cut and paste project, which he called The Life and Morals of Jesus of Nazareth.

I read a good section of it, which you can find here if you’re interested: The Jefferson Gospels. This Jesus is a lot more like Buddha, spouting off wise sayings but never healing anybody. Probably the biggest and most depressing change can be found in its conclusion, which reads “Now, in the place where he was crucified, there was a garden; and in the garden a new sepulchre, wherein was never man yet laid. There laid they Jesus. And rolled a great stone to the door of the sepulchre, and departed.” Thus ends the gospel according to Jefferson.

I try to read my Bible without scissors. But sometimes, like Jefferson, I feel like clipping out a part or two. I’m not a deist, so my objections aren’t as blatant, but they are there.

One verse that irritates me is Luke 14:26:

“If anyone comes to Me and does not hate his father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and his own life also, he cannot be My disciple.”

Jesus seems to be condemning family here. And that really chafes my hide. I had hoped that my knowledge of Biblical Greek could produce an alternative translation which suited my personal beliefs better, but to no avail. The Greek word “μισει” (missei) can only be rendered as “hate” or “abhor” or “despise” or other such synonyms. So I’m stuck with it.

However, the reason I dislike that verse is probably because it speaks directly to me. It’s a lot easier to read verses about not murdering or stealing or adultering because I have no strong desire to participate in those offenses. But being commanded to hate my family, present and future, is something else entirely. Also, it seems to contradict verses like Ephesians 5:25 (which, I can assure you, is in no danger of being cut out of my Bible.)

Jesus can’t be speaking literally, because it would go against many of his core teachings. I somehow doubt he put “abolishing the familial structure” in his mission statement.

So we look deeper. In context, it seems to me that Jesus is saying that he must be the number one priority in our lives. We can’t allow any other person or persons, or ourselves, to surpass him, even if that person is our spouse, parent or child.

Even knowing what it means, it’s still hard for me to apply. I value family very highly, both my current one and my future one. I like to think I value God more, but in reality sometimes it is hard to determine where my loyalties lie. Thankfully, my quest to honor my parents and find a godly wife hasn’t been at odds with my quest to further God’s cause. If placed in a situation where I had to choose between the two, well…I think I’ll try to avoid such hypothetical situations.

So while I wrestle with my own priorities, ask yourself if anything in your life surpasses God, and remember that we need to take the Bible as a whole. We can’t choose the parts that we like and forget the rest.

For assuredly, I say to you, till heaven and earth pass away, one jot or one tittle will by no means pass from the law till all is fulfilled. Matthew 5:18 NKJV

Beware the Salt Sucker

2007-08-04T23:02:00.000-07:00

WARNING: THIS MAY BE THE NERDIEST DEVOTIONAL YOU WILL EVER READ.

This devotional is kind of special to me. It is adapted from the very first sermon I ever gave, waaaaaay back when I was a sophomore in high school. I was 15 then! I still have the original notes, so much of it is pretty much lifted straight from it.

This is kind of on the light fluffy side, being based on an episode of 60's Star Trek (I was a serious Trekkie at the time.) It could benefit strongly with less emphasis on plot and more on moral. But, I think the message is valid, so I'm sharing it.

Beware the Salt Sucker

Forty years ago, before men landed on the moon, a different type of space exploration was taking place once a week on televisions across the country. That was the Star Trek phenomena, which brought intelligent writing to a genre long since ridiculed for stupidity.

Today, the show is very dated looking. But more often the not, the writing makes one think. And one episode in particular, should make us all question what we do with our lives.

That episode is called The Man Trap, and it is the first episode of the show to air, way back in 1966.

First, let me introduce you to the characters and the premise. Star Trek is about a crew of brave adventurers sailing their ship the Enterprise all around the galaxy, and encountering all sorts of weird stuff. The captain is a man named James T. Kirk, but everyone calls him Jim. He’s flanked by his two best friends, a pointy eared alien named Spock, and cranky old country doctor Leonard McCoy.

In this episode, the Enterprise has been ordered to check in on a husband and wife team of archaeologists, Robert and Nancy Crater.
So we begin this episode with a shot of Kirk, McCoy, and Expendable Crewman #1, teleporting onto the desert planet where this dig is taking place. On Star Trek, the skies are always red and nameless characters you've never seen before always die. But for the purposes of this sermon, I'm going to name the third character "Bob." Now on the planet, our heroes move towards the cave where Robert and Nancy Crater apparently live. We then learn that apparently, Nancy Crater is Dr. McCoy's ex-girlfriend. Apparently she ran off with that Robert guy and left poor McCoy alone. Kirk, always the bringer of good-advice, tells McCoy that when visiting an ex-girlfriend, one should always bring flowers. So he reaches down and picks some dry grass.

Gee, thanks Kirk. I'll remember that tip. (Kirk is the one in the gold, McCoy in the blue)

They walk into the cave, and find Nancy Crater. If there was any bad blood left between McCoy and Nancy, it quickly evaporates when McCoy notices she hasn't aged a day since when he saw her last several decades ago. However, it only appears that way to him. Oddly enough, Kirk sees an entirely different, older woman. Things are even weirder when Bob, the expendable crewman, sees yet another, blonder Nancy Crater. It becomes apparent that each man sees exactly what he wants to see.

They talk for awhile, then Kirk sends Bob out to look for Robert Crater. So Bob goes outside and leans against the door like a moron instead.

Nancy (the blond one) walks out after him and starts acting really flirty for no reason and the audience groans.

At that point, Robert Crater shows up inside the cave and basically tells Kirk and McCoy to leave. Also he wants extra Salt so if they could give him some on the way out it would be great. The audience dislikes this guy because he looks really sweaty and weird.

Just then, BLOOD CURDLING SCREAMS come from outside. The men run outside to find Nancy (the old one) standing above the dead body of Bob, the expendable crewman.

One thing is certain: Bob is dead, and something is responsible. Nancy is too distraught to be of assistance, so Kirk and McCoy return to the ship to do an autopsy.

They discover something disturbing. Bob shouldn't be dead. There is only one thing wrong with him, his body contains no salt. The human body needs salt to survive, and Bob lost all of his, apparently sucked out through the red welts on his face. Remembering Robert Crater's bizarre request for extra salt supplies, Kirk and McCoy return to the planet to question him, bringing along Expendable Crewmen #'s 2 and 3 (or for the purposes of this sermon, Larry and Steve.)

Nancy Crater is nowhere to be seen, so Kirk orders Larry and Steve to go get killed-I mean go find her. Kirk asks Robert Crater why he wants Salt, and he makes up some excuse about needing it to replenish salt lost through sweat, this being a desert planet and all. He shows them a box that used to be full of salt, and is now empty. You can almost believe he too, because the man perpetually looks like he just got through playing basketball in 100% humidity while dressed asan Eskimo.

Having got nowhere with their interrogation of Robert Crater, Kirk and McCoy head back outside and run right into the dead body of Larry.

Then the scene shifts, and we see Nancy Crater now standing over dead body of Steve. From this point on, we can't really refer to her as Nancy, so I'm going to call her "The Salt Sucker."

Having realized that things are going badly, Kirk starts calling for Steve to come back to the ship. The Salt Sucker hears this, so she...er...it begins to...TRANSFORM INTO STEVE.

Having assumed the form of Steve the Expendable Crewman, it runs up and meets Kirk and they return to the ship. Kirk starts scanning the planet for any signs of what could be killing his crew, not knowing that he has let THE SALT SUCKER loose on his ship. It doesn't take long for a random crewman to show up dead.

His plastic tarp vest and aluminum foil arms couldn't even protect him! With crewman dying all around him, Kirk figures that Robert Crater knows more than he lets on, so he and Spock go back to the planet to arrest him.

He resists. They catch him anyway. Once back on the ship, they interrogate him. Then we learn his horrible story. About a year ago...or was it two? Crater can't even remember. His wife, the real Nancy Crater, was killed by the strange creature that we're calling The Salt Sucker.

Originally, he was upset about this, but then he discovered that the creature could do things for him. It was a shape shifter, and it could become anyone or anything that he wanted it to. All it took was a little salt from his jar. As long as he controlled that jar, he controlled the creature. Just then, the creature comes from around a corner and grabs him! He tries to resist, and reaches for his jar of salt, only to find it empty. He promptly dies.

Kirk chases the Salt Sucker, right into Dr. McCoy's office. The Salt Sucker transforms back into Nancy, and begs McCoy to protect it.

McCoy, unaware of what is going on, protects her by taking away Kirk's weapon.
Then things get weird.

The Salt Sucker grabs Kirk's face, and begins to suck the salt out of him. However, in order to do this it must transform into its true form. If you don't like ugly things, scroll past it, fast! This thing was traumatizing our parents forty years ago, and it hasn't gotten any prettier!

With this staring him in the face, McCoy does the only thing one should do in this situation. He shoots it with his gun.

The creature falls over dead. The day is saved, but the crew sits around very somberly for few minutes to think about what they've learned.

Then the ship flies away into space. Roll credits.

What was the point all that? There’s an important spiritual allegory here.

You are the salt of the earth; but if the salt loses its flavor, how shall it be seasoned? It is then good for nothing but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot by men. Matthew 5:13

When Jesus used the metaphor of “The Salt of The Earth”, to get across the point that a person without goodness is like salt that has lost its saltiness. Salt that doesn’t taste salty is worthless, just as a Christian who does no good is worthless.

Like the Salt Sucker in the story, the devil wants your salt. He doesn’t want you to live a good life, and he certainly doesn’t want you to spend your time serving Christ. And like the Salt Sucker, he’ll offer you whatever you find appealing to get at your “salt.”

Every person has temptations that they are susceptible to, that may not even interest another person. I know my weaknesses, and chances are you know yours.

The problem is that sin can be fun. Robert Crater lived with The Salt Sucker for several years, enjoying the pleasures it brought, all while feeding it salt from his supplies so it wouldn’t go after the salt in his body.

Look at some of the stuff on television, music, magazines, the Internet. There are some bad things out there, but they may make you happy. You may like some of that stuff, and the devil will see you get access to it. All he asks is a little salt.

On the surface, sin can be as pretty as young Nancy Crater...but at its core it looks like the horrible monster it really it.

Sin offers amazing fun for awhile, and the things you can do are only limited by your imagination. The problem is that it slowly takes its toll.

We run out of salt, and we can’t live without it. Physically or spiritually.

Will you be like crater, and when the devil shows up, will you reach in vain for your salt, only to find it all used up?

What Does Your Light Shine On?

2007-07-28T17:06:00.000-07:00

What time is it when your watch runs backwards?

Before I share with you the punchline to that joke, a little lead-in. Two years ago, I was on the airplane headed back to Southern after Christmas break. I looked down to see what time it was, only to discover that my watch was actually running backwards.

So what time is it when your watch runs backwards? Time to buy a new watch. And that is exactly what I decided to do.

Because I am a connoisseur of only the finest in timekeeping machinery, I headed straight to Wal-Mart. There were only about five hundred different watches to choose from, most of which were decidedly feminine looking. However, I did find one which wasn't too girlish, and for a whole $7.99 it became mine.

It ran nicely, and nothing appeared to be wrong with it. I was content and happy until one evening I glanced down at and become very amused and slightly disgusted. You see, this watch had a serious design flaw. The man who engineered it needs to lose his job at whatever Indonesian watch factory it came from.

It was a face watch, and oddly enough the numbers were painted with glow in the dark ink, but the hands weren't. So in the dark, the watch displays a glowing circle of numbers but no time.

One must wonder exactly what the reasoning behind this is supposed to be. If I were ever to forget how to count to twelve in the dark, I guess the watch would be usable, but otherwise it was pretty stupid. It was likely a manufacturing defect, but still, pretty stupid.

Matthew 5:14 sees Jesus calling his followers “The Light of the World.” What he meant was that we as Christians represent to the world what God is supposed to stand for. By our actions or “light” those who do not know God are supposed to get a picture of him through us.

However, as my watch quite accurately points out, not all light is created equal. The purpose of a watch is tell time, and the purpose of glow in the dark ink is to make it so the watch can tell time in the dark. But my watch didn't tell time in the dark, even though it had light.

You've already figured out where I'm going with this. Do your actions represent Christ? Do your actions betray who you serve? Or are you like my watch, sending out light with no real purpose? Many atheists point to the hypocrisy of Christians who claim to serve Christ but live no differently than the rest world. Don't be like that. Let your light shine and illuminate the nature of God.

You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do they light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a lampstand, and it gives light to all who are in the house. Matthew 5:14-15

As an aside, the watch talked about in this story broke awhile back. I bought a new one a few weeks ago, and both the numbers and the hands glow in the dark. But this one came from Target, so I'm really not surprised!

The week of computer problems

2007-07-22T21:42:00.001-07:00

EDIT: Woah, my parents computer destroyed itself. It literally broke inside. Apparently after eight years of abuse they can do that. As a result, there won't be an update this week. The devotional I was working on (and was almost done with!) is still on my hard drive and I can access it when I get back to Southern...so I'll see you next week with something entirely different!

This Devotional About Supermodels is Not My Fault

2007-07-16T21:36:00.000-07:00

This piece has a story behind it. At writer's club a few months back, one of the attendees was reading some riddles he had written. My response for all of them was "supermodel." Hey, it always made perfect sense, but I was the only one who thought so. Eventually, Jason ended up daring me to write about a supermodel for the next meeting.

So I did.

This Devotional About Supermodels is Not My Fault

So I was dared to write about a supermodel. While I know several girls who are pretty enough to be supermodels, they have chosen to devote their lives to more meaningful professions. I also don’t like to write fiction all that much. Therefore, I was left with only one option. I must write about a supermodel that I admire.

Finding admirable supermodels proved to be a laborious task. Yet, there is one model that I have had a “crush” on since fourth grade. Millions of people see her smiling face everyday, and she has been modeling for quite a few years. Despite this, she has completely avoided all of the scandals surrounding many of today’s glamour girls. No illegitimate children, no sex tapes, no anorexia accusations. Instead she provides young ladies with a positive, hard working role model.

Have I mentioned yet that she is gorgeous? She doesn’t look like one of those Hollywood girls, with lips the size of jet liners and artificial bosoms the size of…really big things. No, she looks like a normal girl you could see at the grocery store.

On top of all this, she was born in Fresno, California, just like me. While I have never actually met her, she is a prominent figure locally because of her international popularity.

I am talking, of course, about the Sun-Maid Raisin Girl. Ever since my mother packed those little boxes of raisins in my school lunches I have secretly admired her.

The media bombards us with images of what human beauty is supposed to be like. More often then not, it falls into the stereotype of a fit surfer styled man and a Playboy playmate. Physical appearance is made a major issue, to a greater degree towards young girls than boys. The media tells them that they must weigh a certain amount, dress a certain way, dye their hair a certain color, and et cetera.

I find the Sun-Maid Raisin girl very attractive. But a pretty face does not a happy marriage make. On the cover of the raisin box, her beauty lasts forever, but that isn’t the way things work in real life. In fact, having been in vineyards and having spent days picking grapes, I can assure you that if she continues in that line of work, by the time she is forty her face is going to look like the raisins she is pawning. Then, I hope that she has married a man who loves her for who she is, not because she has a gorgeous smile.

Our culture is a little confused as to what love actually is. Last year, National Geographic magazine ran an article about love. What do think made the cover? A picture of a young, attractive couple embracing in what appears to be a nightclub. This is not love, this is mere infatuation. Love is what you have after you’ve been married for fifty years. National Geographic should have shown a picture of two withered old people with canes and suspenders holding hands and called that “love,” instead.

Speaking of raisins, I believe a successful marriage is a lot like a raisin. Before you put this paper down and call me insane, hear me out.

Raisins start out as grapes, on a vine. Marriages often start out as a union between two young, naïve people. Consider a new marriage a grape. Not all grapes are created equal. Some are big, some are small. Some are perfectly round, others are downright deformed. Some are horrifically sour, some taste like mush, and some are wonderfully sweet. However, with few exceptions, all have the capacity to become a raisin.

Yet, grapes do not magically transform over time into raisins. A special process must be observed. If you throw a bunch of grapes into a closet and come back in a month expecting to find raisins, you are going to be wonderfully disappointed. You’ll find a pile of rotten pulp which at one point may have been grapes.

In order to create a raisin, two things must happen to a grape. They must be exposed to sunlight, and they must be kept dry. In order to have a successful, Christlike marriage, both the husband and the wife must expose themselves to the Son of God. As the grapes absorb more and more sunlight, they become dryer and the potential for rot is removed.

It is at this point, dear reader and or listener, that I abandon this paper. I say all of this with only the good intentions and wishful thinking of a single man who wants to be as Christ like as possible in his future marriage. Alas, the road to hell is paved with good intentions and I am not qualified to say many of the things I have just said. But Jason dared me to write about supermodels and I thought about raisins and marriage and this is what happened. I will hopefully return to it someday when I have been married for some time and have some experience in such matters.

This Story Was Almost About Bulls

2007-07-10T13:47:00.000-07:00

Wow, two days late and all I have to deliver is a recycled creative writing piece. Shame on me! Oh well.

I wrote this devotional over spring break at about three in the morning with a 100+ degree fever. Apparently, while semi-intoxicated I have a penchant for run-on sentences and lack of punctuation, as well as bizarre scripture choices. Yet, I can't bring myself to edit it...

Electric Fences

Bulls are one of those things that are better enjoyed on the other side of solid electrified steel. I know this from experience.

There was a time when my grandfather owned somewhere around ten bulls. I have no idea why because bulls have only a limited number of uses. You cannot milk them, you can only kill and eat them and we were vegetarians so that made them useless. We only had like three cows on the ranch and they were off by themselves so all these bulls, which were all bull by the way, had only each other’s company. This means they had no company at all.

They were all in one pen and angry about it. At night you would hear them a quarter mile away screaming at the moon. Bulls do not moo. They scream bloodcurdling screams of death. It was a chorus of perpetual agony.

I do not blame them because I know that if I was locked in a pen with nothing but other guys and no ladies ever came to visit I would start screaming at the moon too.

Anyways, I found standing outside their pen and observing their lonesome suffering to be a source of great amusement. They would turn and look at you, then bawl at you until saliva formed froth around their lip and started to come out in streams. It was obvious that they hated you with all the hatred they could muster, but they couldn’t do anything because there was an electric fence in the way.

Touching that fence hurt. I know for sure that electric fences hurt, because when I was in kindergarten my kindergarten girlfriend came to the farm and I tried to explain to her how electric fences worked. She asked how I knew they hurt when I had never touched one. I didn’t know either. So she dared me to grab it and see. We were such a caring couple, as you have observed.

I was smarter than that, though. I knew about conduction. I knew how electricity worked. I figured that if I touched it with something else I could see if it was really hot or not. So I grabbed a rubber garden hose and put it on the fence. Then I touched the garden house. I was surprised to see that nothing happened.

She still wanted me to touch the fence, and I did not want to disappoint a lady. Besides, I knew that electricity went through things, and since it didn’t come through the rubber hose then this fence must have been dead. So, in typical “see how manly I am” fashion, I grabbed the fence with both hands. I stopped crying some time the next day.

I still regret that our relationship did not survive the perils of first grade. I imagine that today she’d have me jumping in front of trains or shooting myself with a nail gun just to see if it hurt. Regardless, I learned a valuable lesson about materials with nonconductive properties.

Come to think of it, I learned another lesson, too. No, not about showing off in front of girls, I wouldn’t that lesson for quite some time, if at all. My parents had told me not to touch that fence, and not to put anything on it. I had unquestioningly obeyed until that day, when it seemed that my five year old manhood depended on touching that fence. I had to see if it hurt or not. I had very little if anything to gain from that knowledge, yet I still had to find out. It’s the same mindset Adam had when Eve brought him the Forbidden Fruit. He knew that eating it was a bad idea, but he didn’t want to look like a wimp. There are things out there we don’t have to experience to know if they’ll hurt us or not. We don’t have to experience that pain for ourselves to know that, we can look at the examples of so many other people who have already grabbed the fence and got shocked.

But fornication and all uncleanness or covetousness, let it not even be named among you, as is fitting for saints; neither filthiness, nor foolish talking, nor coarse jesting, which are not fitting, but rather giving of thanks. Ephesians 5:3-4

What I Learned From A Card Game

2007-07-02T15:57:00.000-07:00

Hm, a day late and a dollar short again. The demands of summer school have made deadlines difficult, so expect more delays in the future. This is an original piece, and I did a lot of scanning for it. Click on the card images to see an enlarged version.

What I Learned From A Card Game

I like table games. Be they card based or board-game style, I really enjoy them. Why sit around a TV all night when you can humiliate your friends and family at a game of skill and\or luck? I think more families would stick together if people just spent more time interacting with each other instead of passively watching fictitious cars explode.

I’m up for Monopoly, Risk, or even Hungary Hungary Hippos anytime, anywhere. If you know anything about these games, I claim the hat piece, Mexico, and the Green Hippo.

While you could probably derive some important life lessons from a game of Monopoly, I haven’t done so yet. That said, I was playing a card game with my family a few days ago that made me think a little.

That card game is Redemption. Redemption is a Christian Collectable Card Game. What that means is that it is instead of playing with pre-packaged decks of cards, each player constructs their own from the thousands of cards available. Cards come in booster packs and have varying degrees of rarity. My family has really enjoyed this game, and has spent many a Sabbath afternoon playing it since I bought the starter deck at a camp meeting Adventist Book Center ten years ago.

The basic idea of the game is to lead members of your “army of God” in battle against the “army of darkness” in order to rescue “lost souls.” It can be quite a bit more complex than that, but that's the general idea. All of the cards are based on biblical characters and events, even ridiculously obscure ones. Pretty much every bible character you can think of has a card, and quite a few you’ve never heard of have one too.

If you’ve ever wondered how Samson would have faired in a battle against Goliath (probably far better than against Jezebel), you can play it in the game. Or perhaps Simon Peter versus Haman? Ruth versus Judas Iscariot? Joshua versus the Whore of Babylon? It gets weirder than that, trust me.

Anyway, I decided I could make the game weirder than it already was. I used MS Paint to create an “Edward” hero, printed it out and glued it to the front of a worthless card, and surreptitiously slipped it into my deck. I figured that would highly amuse my family.

This meant that I was now a member of the “Army of God”, rubbing shoulders with guys like David, Paul, and Moses. I made my abilities considerably less than that of those characters, but it still felt pretty weird.

I drew the Edward card towards the end of the first game. At that point, I had been using a coalition led by Adino. I don’t really know who that is, but his scriptural reference (2^nd Samuel 23:8) says that he was “the Tachmonite that sat in the seat” and that he killed eight hundred people with his spear. Pretty cool guy. Anyway, he had successfully rescued four lost souls from the hordes of darkness.

Now, I had the Edward card. I was only one rescue away from victory, and figured it was time to reveal myself and win the game. I waited for my turn, and put my card down on the table in attack mode. The target was my brother’s captive souls, and he would have to fight me off, otherwise the game would belong to me.

After passing my ghetto homemade card around and after everybody laughed at it and me, the game went on. I was pretty confident that I had won this battle, after all, I had the “Sound the Alarm” card ready to play, which would allow two heroes to band together to rescue the soul. I would bring in my David card, and the two of us would be unstoppable. David is one of my favorite biblical characters, and I thought it would be pretty cool to win teamed up with him.

My brother didn’t put out an evil character to battle me though. Instead, he slammed the “Christian Martyr” card down on top of the “Edward” card. For those of you unfamiliar with a game, the “Christian Martyr” card means instant non-arguable death for a hero.

I had just been martyred. My turn was over. That was pretty unkind of him to do to his own brother. I should have attacked my mother instead. She ended up winning the game.

Thus my short foray into the realm of spiritual warfare ended.

Or has it? This experience made me start thinking about the heroes of the Bible. Some of them accomplished some pretty impressive things. Those of us raised in the church have had their stories drilled into our heads over and over again since cradle roll. It becomes easy to assign them legendary or superhuman status, to the point that we forget that they were all just like us: human.

Don’t tell me David wasn’t scared as he ran from Saul. Don’t tell me Daniel didn’t have his doubts as he was thrown into the lion’s den. Don’t tell me Noah worked on the Ark for a hundred years and never once considered that he may be insane. Don’t tell me Joshua never lost a little hope of making it to the Promised Land. Don’t tell me the constant beatings and stonings and shipwrecks and imprisonments never caused Paul’s enthusiasm to waver.

They weren’t working with anything that we don’t have. Arguably, it could be said that we have more than they did, what with the New Testament and religious liberty being the way it is. Still, they went out and did God’s will. They slipped up from time to time, as no person is without their Bathsheba moment, but ultimately they triumphed. They felt all the same emotions that we do, but the Bible still records them as heroes in The Army of God.

And there’s no reason we can’t overcome our weaknesses and enlist as well. I got “martyred” pretty quickly when I went out rescue “lost souls.” Are we willing to make that kind of commitment? Death doesn’t frighten me, but other things do.

I’m seriously considering going as a student missionary next year. Dedicating a year to God sounds like a very good thing, and I would very much like to do it. Still, I am reminded of the reasons I haven’t already done it. Just as I’m ready to make a commitment, my mind brings up a very plausible scenario of the negative things that might occur back home if I’m gone for a year. Still, the only reasons I can think of not to go are wholly selfish. God told Abraham to march across the desert into the unknown, national borders don’t seem all that bad in comparison.

Regardless of all this, in the game of Redemption, and in the reality of life, there are only two factions: The Army of God and The Army of Darkness. One cannot serve in the Army of God if they want only to please themselves. Risks must be taken, and we can only hope for the strength to take them. It’s the same dilemma faced by every Bible hero you can think of, and we must face it too.

My Short Flirtation with Long Hair

2007-06-25T21:13:00.000-07:00

Sorry folks, summer school actually gave me something to do, so I'm going to have to recycle something old I've written. I work-shopped this piece in Creative Writing, and received some good comments on it. I made several revisions based on those comments but have lost my revised copy. This piece breaks from the norm in that it doesn't have a scripture back-up or Bible based message, but it does have me being very stupid. Really, what more could you want?

However, if any of my astute and good looking readers can suggest a way to tie a scripture into this I'll rewrite it and give them my thanks (and maybe some cookies.)

My Short Flirtation with Long Hair

It started around the end of my freshman year. I was minding my own business, watching an episode of Battlestar Galactica, when a very strange idea hit me alongside the head.

This wasn’t that new Battlestar Galactica either, this was that one made in the seventies, the one with robot dogs, leather jackets, and space casinos. I found it all very humorous and awesome at the same time.

As I watched the characters Apollo and Starbuck run around on screen, two manly men with long, seventies hairstyles, it occurred to me that I could have long hair and yet still be cool. So, I resolved to grow what I referred to from that point on as “Starbuck hair.”

You see, I had had the same haircut since I was three years old. Prior to that age, I had never had a haircut. I had long curly little girl hair. This was all fine and dandy until I started to receive free cookies at the bakery because I was “such a cute little girl.” My father decided that I had to stop receiving free cookies and be a man. So, my mother attempted to cut my hair, until she had to stop halfway through and start crying because I was growing up too fast. My father then finished the job creating the short style that I kept for sixteen years.

But now, that was all going to change. I would grow Starbuck hair, and be as manly and cool as he was, except without the smoking and sleeping around parts.

This saved me ten dollars, because I no longer needed to get a haircut that semester. I let it grow, and grow it did, until halfway through the summer I discovered I had a curly mop on the back of my head. It looked like I was being hugged by a wookie. I didn’t want curly hair; I wanted long, straight hair. But, nature worked against me.

This was not what I wanted at all, so only one choice remained. I must get a haircut. Therefore, I fled to my mother and asked for a haircut. She didn’t cry this time. I think she was relieved.

I admit haven’t been entirely honest. I wanted a new hairstyle not just for the sake of having a new hairstyle. I was influenced by the fact that a girl I was dating at the time had told me that she liked guys with long hair. This was a sentiment I had seen expressed by other members of the fairer sex, and I therefore concluded that longer hair was the sole deciding factor in what the average Adventist American girl was seeking in men. This is an exaggeration, but only partially.

I look back on it now and realize how stupid it all was. I allowed my hairstyle to be dictated by peer pressure, and while this is a seemingly harmless thing to change, my motivation to do so was wrong. In high school and adolescence, many people face tremendous social pressures to change things about themselves. While this isn’t necessarily always a bad thing, our motives need to be examined. If we are changing something about ourselves just to please someone else, we are changing for the wrong reasons.

Adolescence is a time of change for everyone, but don’t change just to please a crowd, because the crowd can never decide exactly what it wants. Change because you think it will make you a better person.

I like my hair better short, and that is how it is going to stay.

I Am Shorter Than A Redwood Tree

2007-06-17T22:08:00.000-07:00

Two weeks ago I visited a sequoia grove near where my parents have recently moved. If you are not nature person, sequoia redwood trees are essentially the largest living organisms known to man. The largest is this stupid mushroom thing that lives underground and nobody ever sees, so I consider the sequoia the true largest living thing. Do not debate me on this. You will lose.

Anyway, the giant redwood is native only to a small region of the Sierra Nevadas in California. When reports of these trees first made it to the east, they were considered a load of bovine excrement. You see, these trees are not only big, they are not only huge, they are big huge!

Most are only around 200 feet tall, but their height is not their impressive feature, it is their girth. The trees I saw were all about 25 feet in diameter. If you flunked geometry like I almost did, 25 feet in diameter is pretty big. Based on my inaccurate measurements, I’m about 2 feet in diameter. I’m also only 6.15 feet tall. Blue whales are only about 100 feet long and nowhere near 25 feet in diameter. So we conclude that the tree is a lot bigger than me and several times the size of the most giantest whale.

So the trees are big. Woohoo!

They weren’t always that way, though. They started out as seeds the size of the period at the end of this sentence. All it took was about 2500 years of sunlight and water and dirt to turn that seed into the giants that you see in the pictures I posted. That means that these trees sprouted around the same time King Nebuchadnezzar ruled the world, and the cones they sprouted from fell out of trees that Noah probably planted. Think about that while you try to sleep tonight.

When you’ve been around that long, you’ve seen an awful lot. As you can observe in the pictures, the majority of these living fossils have severe fire scarring. Over the span of millennia, they have survived numerous forest fires. The secret is in their bark, which is spongy and a very efficient fire retardant. Fire after fire, the trees survived undaunted.

Then about one hundred years ago some guys named Teddy Roosevelt and John Muir found them and decided to make them part of a national park. Through the efforts of man, all forest fires were quenched long before reaching the redwoods.

Then something happened. Several decades ago, forest rangers began to notice that there were no young redwood trees. The old ones were fine, but the new ones simply could not take root. The culprit? Severe lack of forest fire.

In order for the seeds to break out of the cones, they must catch fire and be partially burnt. Then, while the trees are growing, fire must come through and remove other plants which may be competing. Saplings of other trees, ferns, weeds, et cetera all burn away in a forest fire. The redwood trees scar, but they survive and eventually flourish.

It is a little like that with us. The question of why a good God allows us to suffer is one that is difficult to answer. Why do bad things happen to good people? We will inevitably face things that try our faith in the very existence of God. At times it seems like we suffer for no purpose. The effects of sin are felt all throughout the world, and times will not always be good. Forest fires eventually raze away our dreams, and scars eventually form in lives. But like the redwood tree, use the fire to your advantage. Take away things which compete for your salvation, and grow stronger in your faith knowing that your suffering will eventually end.

And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose. Romans 8:28 NKJV

You'll Believe A Man Can Fly

2007-06-10T21:52:00.000-07:00

Occasionally, I feel like writing more serious works. People tell me that my writings don't have to be filled with attempts at humor in order to be inspirational. This is one such serious writing. Well, at least as serious as a devotional based on Superman can be.

You'll Believe A Man Can Fly

A lesson in: Altruism

You know the story. Even if you hate comic books and popular culture, you know who Superman is. The last son of a dying world, an infant child is hurtled through the cosmos. His rocket crashes in a Kansas wheat field, where he is discovered by Jonathan and Martha Kent, two mid-western farmers. They adopt him as their son, and he is from that point known as “Clark Kent.” He is raised with protestant American values. Eventually, he grows up to become “Superman”, arguably the most famous of all superheroes.

It’s a story that has received many retellings, but one thing tends to remain the same in all of them: Superman’s unselfish devotion to helping the people of Earth.

Superman stands out among the “heroes” of American popular culture because of his high moral standards and devotion to helping others. He has no reason to go out to fight evil and pull cats out if trees. The threats he encounters seldom endanger Clark Kent, but he always runs to the nearest phone booth to emerge as Superman, ready to defend the weak and fight for what’s right. Ultimately, Superman lays his life down to save a city full of people he doesn’t even know.

This brings me to the question of the week: What makes a man “super?” Is it his strength? Certainly not, many comic-book villains exist which equal or surpass Superman’s brute force. I say a true “Superman” is someone who cares more about others than about himself, and actively works to help where he can.

Superman has a great many talents and abilities. He can fly, he is essentially invulnerable, he possesses x-ray vision, and he is more powerful than a locomotive and faster than a speeding bullet.

What would you do if you had all that? Would you don a cape and start looking for falling aircraft to catch or bank robberies to thwart? Or would you take your x-ray vision to Vegas and become a millionaire? Perhaps take your super-speed to the football field and achieve world renowned fame?

It all comes down to altruism. Altruism is defined as “behavior by an animal that may be to its disadvantage but that benefit others of its kind.” Essentially, altruism is putting the needs of others before your own.

It’s what the New York City firemen did on 9/11. It’s what Medal of Honor winners show to make them worthy of the award. It’s what missionaries do when they leave the comforts of civilization to enter hostile territory, to try and save those who hate them.

The most outstanding act of altruism in all of history is none other than Christ’s sacrifice. While Superman exists only in fiction, I believe that Christ exists in reality, and he has set an incredible example.

You and I aren’t from Krypton. We can’t fly or punch through steel. Regardless, we do have talents. They can be used to either glorify ourselves or to glorify Christ through helping others where we can. It doesn't require much creativity or effort to find a place where we can be used by Christ. We could use our time constructing a vast material empire that would rival that of Superman’s foe Lex Luthor, or we could spend it benefiting mankind.

The choice ultimately rests with you. Would you rather own a mansion built on sand or a one-room shack built on a rock?

He said to them all, “If anyone desires to come after Me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow Me. For whoever desires to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for My sake will save it. For what profit is it to a man if he gains the whole world, and is himself destroyed or lost? Luke 9:23-25

Perchance To Dream

2007-06-03T22:02:00.000-07:00

I promise to stop using the Beverly Hillbillies in my devotionals. The next post won't have them at all. Really.

I made the totally awesome artwork below in MS Paint. I don't know why it isn't hanging in the Louvre.

Perchance To Dream
A lesson in: Guilt

Dreams can be strange things. Some people say that you can tell a lot about a person by what they dream about. My dad says he dreams about flea markets and thrift stores and jet fighter planes. My mother seems to dream exclusively about floods and animals, usually at the same time. My brother dreams about detectives.

My dreams, however, could probably qualify me for a spot in the loony bin. I will never forget the dream I had where I met the Beverly Hillbillies, and the Pope, at the same time. My dad, brother, and I were at my grandmother’s house, and we were talking about farming. Suddenly, the Clampett family arrived. Uncle Jed, Granny, Elly May, and Jethro knocked on the door and we let them in. My dad talked with Jed, my grandmother talked with Granny (duh), my brother talked with Jethro, and I talked with Elly May (you saw that coming).

Just then, Jethro pulled out a bag containing none other but the Pope’s clothing. We all agreed that this was the cat’s meow! My brother put the Pope suit on and started walking around in it. Just then, the actual Pope appeared and apparently wanted his clothing back. I guess we refused because he started breathing fire at us. Popes can do that, you know. My brother hit him with a stick and he calmed down. Then we all went for a swim in my Grandmother’s swimming pool.

Isn’t that just absurd? I mean, my grandmother doesn’t even have a swimming pool. I suppose this is what I get for reading The Great Controversy as an evening devotional.

Dreams are largely laughable meaningless things, at least mine are. I seldom learn anything from them. No, nightmares are where the life lessons lie.

My nightmares don’t consist of monsters or falling or fire breathing popes or dentists or Al Gore or anything like that, probably because those things don’t frighten me. I very seldom have nightmares at all, but when I have them, they usually involve me being a jerk.

I’ll dream that I’m flippant to someone and ruin a relationship, or commit some horrible crime and try to live with the guilt.

The other day I dreamed that I was selected as a convocation speaker for my college. I had the opportunity to address all of my peers on a topic of my choosing. Now, while awake I am confident up front and love speaking to large groups of people. But in the nightmare, I didn’t prepare adequately (or at all, I distinctly remember using the internet instead of working on my speech.) When it came time to hold the convocation, I made an idiot out of myself.

As I walked off the stage in shame, I awoke. Sort of. I lay bed in a state of semi-consciousness, and even though the nightmare was over, I still felt like the dream had been reality. I felt very stupid for what I had done. I had let my peers and myself down, all because I didn’t manage my time.

Then, in an instant the fact that this event had occurred only in my mind hit me. I was fully awake and relieved to learn the only mistake I had made was eating the leftover pizza last night. I had been proven innocent, all guilt was gone.

When we sin, we should feel guilt afterwards. It’s a very important step in the process of asking for grace and forgiveness. How can we sincerely repent our sins if we are not ashamed to have committed them?

However, taken past that guilt can become unhealthy. Once we are forgiven, once we have repented of our sins, we no longer need to feel guilty. As far as God is concerned, because Christ’s blood covers that sin, it never happened. It’s like the mistake made in a dream.

We may still have to live with the consequences of our actions, but we no longer need to mentally beat ourselves up over past mistakes. Micah 7:19 says that God casts our sins into the deepest part of the ocean. There is no need to go deep-sea diving in order to reexamine them.

"He will again have compassion on us, and will subdue our iniquities. You will cast all our sins into the depths of the sea. " Micah 7:19

"I have swept away your offenses like a cloud, your sins like the morning mist. Return to me, for I have redeemed you." Isaiah 44:22

The Antique That Got Away

2007-05-27T21:49:00.000-07:00

Here is the first of the newly written summer devotionals...I'll only fall back on my creative writing ones when nothing happens.

The Antique That Got Away

A few days I ago I had the pleasure of attending the Coarsegold antique fair with my father. We both enjoy junk, especially old junk, and antique fairs usually have junk in profusion.

The Coarsegold antique fair certainly had junk. Much of it was very expensive, which is the only reason we did not return with a truck full of excellent top quality junk.

We found a mounted boar head. I kid you not, we found a mounted boar head. Ladies, I’ll let you in on a secret. Every man has the secret urge of owning a mounted boar head. However, I suspect women do not share this desire. I do not understand why. What you do is take the boar head, and mount it in a special room of the house called a “den.” Then put on a flannel shirt, read a newspaper, smoke a pipe, and pet the dog while sitting in an easy chair under the boar head. This is probably the closest to heaven that we can experience here on earth (except Adventist men should omit the pipe smoking part and replace it with eating prosages or ice-cream or both.)

Sadly, the boar head was out of our price range, and I think mother would have disapproved anyway, so we left it. We continued our trek around the fair, and spent about an hour looking at old postcards and older antique dealers.

Finally, we came across a booth run by two old ladies who were having a very hard time. They had boxes and boxes of junk which they hadn’t even unloaded yet, and it was already noon. Apparently they only put one item out every half hour. Worse yet, they had no idea what anything was worth, and if they did, they priced it based on the dollar values of 1955.

My dad purchased a $300 pocket knife from them for $5, and they actually were afraid they’d priced it too high. I wasn’t that lucky, but I did watch as they put out one item that I decided I had to own.

It was a “Shazam” Captain Marvel drinking glass. If you don’t know who Captain Marvel is, don’t be surprised. He was basically a Superman rip-off from the 1940’s, who for a time actually surpassed big blue in popularity. He was a ten-year-old boy, that upon saying the magic word “Shazam” would transform into a muscle bound hero. When you’re ten years old, that is really cool. I’m twenty and I still think it’s really cool.

As for the glass, I’m the kind of person who occasionally gets the odd urge to buy things for his unborn children. If I ever have a son someday, I’ve already got a few Christmas or Birthday or Tuesday presents stored up for him. Not so much for daughters, I’m letting my unknown\unmet wife worry about that.

I had to buy that glass, but my dad was looking through some interesting agricultural pamphlets from 1922 about sheep-killing dogs and udder diseases, and I decided to wait for him to get done before I went over to ask how much the poor old lady wanted for it.

I had stood there for about three minutes, thinking about how cool it would be to see my kids drinking from that cup, when tragedy struck. Some woman walked up, picked up the Shazam glass, and bought it for $1.

How dare she!? The old bat stole my Shazam cup! It only was a dollar? Ebay says it’s worth at least $15! Curse my inaction and procrastination!

That’s the way life works, though. The opportunity to buy that cup presented itself, but I told myself it would still be there in five minutes. However, the door of probation slammed in my face and my cup got away. I can live without it, though. Inaction and procrastination can cost a man far worse things.

The attitude that we can wait to put our lives right with God until we’re old-or until next week-is a very dangerous one. There may not be a next week for you, and good intentions achieve nothing. Action is required. A person is defined by what they do. Don’t put off trying to break a bad habit, or trying to witness to a friend, because just as easily as that cup walked away from me the opportunity to change yourself or help others can vanish too.

Don’t wait! Act today.

Therefore you also be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect.

Matthew 22:44

Epilogue: The trip to the antique fair wasn’t a complete washout. I bought a Beverly Hillbillies comic book that features the Clampetts fighting a crazed robot. It rocks all kinds of awesome.

I Feel A Little Silly

2007-05-26T23:00:00.000-07:00

My car in its natural desert habitat.

This story is mostly me being stupid.

I Feel A Little Silly

Yesterday I got into my car with the intention of driving back to the University. I started it, shifted into reverse, and examined my surroundings in order to be sure that I wouldn’t run into any innocent pedestrians.

Then my phone rang.

Being the conscientious driver that I am, I killed the engine before answering it. My mother needed to know something or other, so I told her and then hung up.

Then I attempted to re-start my car. I discovered that the engine was entirely unresponsive. I turned the key, fed it some gas, and still the engine refused to even turn over.

After about two or three minutes of this, I got out and looked under the hood. Everything seemed to be fine there, so I got back in the car and tried to solve this conundrum.

I could not determine why the engine refused to cooperate. Had I somehow created an electrical problem? Was juice not flowing from the battery? I could turn on my headlights, so that didn’t seem to be the problem.

The car had worked just fine when I originally started it, what could I have possibly done to it by starting and stopping it like that?

Befuddled, I finally decided to give my dad a call. He was 2500 miles away, but he’s a mechanical expert. Being able to fix broken machinery is an extremely important part of farming, because farm equipment tends to be very old and overused He’s taught me a lot, but I will never reach the level of mastery he has attained through decades of practice.

He answered the phone and I heard a skill saw turn off. I began to explain to him my situation, when I discovered that I had neglected to shift the transmission back into park. In my hurry to answer my cell phone I had left out this all important step of call stopping.

I shifted from reverse back into park and the car fired right up.

I did all this while in mid-sentence with my father talking about my silly car, and had only been on the line with him about twenty seconds.

I told him to forget I’d called, and that the car was working perfectly now and that he could go back to sawing whatever it was he was sawing. I conveniently left out the details about why the car wouldn’t start and how I fixed it. I felt a little silly.

My dad then informed me that he had magically fixed it from afar over the phone lines. If you have ever wondered why I am the way I am you need only meet my father.

Sometimes when we face troubles in our lives, we may overlook an obvious solution. The thought never crossed my mind to be sure I was in park, because I didn’t believe myself to be capable of such a scatter-brained feat of stupidity.

Yet, that was the only solution that would have gotten my car started. Trials in life are inevitable, and problems with no immediately obvious solution will certainly arise. But, there is one obvious solution for which we should also start with: Asking God to help.

This poor man cried out, and the Lord heard him, and saved him out of all his troubles. Psalm 34:6 NKJV

A Goat Tale

2007-05-24T09:51:00.000-07:00

Me, circa 1996, and a goat with gravity defying ears.

I suppose the opening piece should be the one that has garnered me the most success. This story won 2nd place for prose in last year's "Legacy."

A Goat Tale

I grew up on a farm. One thing many farms have is animals. Our farm was no different. We had goats, lots of them. I was a typical annoying child, and occasionally gave in to the urge to tease them.

Female goats are known as “nannies” and are not fun to tease, because they don’t fight back, they just run away. Chasing them is a little fun, but they run too fast for an average boy to catch. Not unlike human females.

Male goats are known as “billies” and are very fun to tease, because they fight back. Now, when you’re ten years old, you can’t harass just any billy goat, because the full grown ones are too irritable, strong, and soaked in their own body fluids. Not unlike human males.

No, you want to find one that is about half-grown, one going through puberty, so to speak. At this age, the average billy is territorial, aggressive, and willing to fight back, but too weak and stupid to do much of anything. Not unlike human adolescents.

This story is about one such billy goat that I discovered one day when I should have been doing something productive. He was in a pen all by himself, he was about half grown, and he had a look of utter and total hatred on his face. He looked a lot like Satan, actually. Overall, he looked like fun.

I climbed into the pen and spent about an hour annoying him. He wanted me out, but all he could do was butt me with his little horns, which didn’t hurt at all. I remember grabbing him by the horns, spinning him around in a circle, and running away, watching him dizzily hobble after me. This was more fun than Disneyland. However, I eventually lost interest and left the poor goat alone.

I did not encounter him again for some time, until about six months later when I was out stacking firewood. He went walking right by me, out of his pen and apparently having the time of his life. This wasn’t the way things worked on the farm. Billy goats were supposed to be in pens, not wandering around. I resolved to remedy this issue immediately.

I constructed a “goat war station.” It consisted of an empty trailer, and various weapons with which I could attack the goat from a safe vantage point. The weapons consisted mostly of water jugs and string. The plan was to lure the goat within range, douse him a few times, then rope him and lead him back to his pen.

The only problem was that the goat had no desire to pursue me. In fact, all he did was run away when I got close. I’ve already explained that chasing goats isn’t much fun, but I did anyways. I chased him until he jumped into a pen filled with young nanny goats.

This was a pen, but this was not the pen he was supposed to be in. The matter was becoming more complicated by the minute, but I wasn’t ready to give up yet. I realized the only way I was going to get him out would be to make him angry enough to chase me.

Unfortunately, this task proved difficult. No matter what I did, the goat ignored me. He was far more interested in the young nanny goats. Eventually, I found that shooting him with a high powered watering hose did just the trick.

Now I had one very upset goat on my hands. I also quickly found out that the goat had grown quite a bit more in the past six months than I had. The tables turned rather abruptly.

The goat charged at me with far more speed than I would have appreciated, leaving me only one option. I grabbed his horns, and thus began a very long grappling match.

He pushed me into the corner of the pen, but I kept a firm grip on him. Soon, we both had discovered that neither of us was strong enough to overpower the other. He couldn’t ram me while I held his horns, but I couldn’t escape the pen while doing so. We were at a stalemate. Contrary to what you learned in history class, this is how the Cold War actually began.

An hour had passed. I observed my mother in the distance. Should I yell for help? No, I was ten years old now, man enough to handle a goat without mommy bailing me out.

Two hours had passed. I observed some workers in the distance. Should I yell for help? No, I had gotten myself into this mess and I was going to get myself out of it. It was a hot day, and both I and the goat smelled repugnant, and we were both tired, but neither was ready to concede.

Three hours had passed. My five-year-old brother approached and wanted to know what I was doing. At this point I was really tired of goats, and wanted out badly. The goat was becoming more upset and was struggling harder, as well.

I was about to tell my brother to go away, when a solution came to my mind. My brother could come into the pen, take the goat by the horns, and then I could escape. I could then pull him over the top of the pen, we would both be home free, and we would never speak of the incident again. It all made so much sense at the time.

My brother agreed, got into the pen, and took the horns. I quickly climbed over the fence, and turned around just in time to see my brother being smashed into a fence post, followed by a very unpleasant cracking sound. The goat then trotted away, apparently content with his revenge.

I was sure that my brother was broken, but he managed to climb out of the pen, and thankfully was not seriously injured. I, however, had suffered a rather fatal injury to my pride.

My stupidity in approaching that goat is a lot like the way we fall into temptation. Because I had played with it when it was smaller, I didn’t recognize it when it was larger and actually dangerous.

Satan doesn’t throw large temptations in front of us right away. He’s too smart for that. He knows that by giving into small temptations, we take baby steps towards life shattering ones. He knows that jealously leads to theft, lust leads to adultery, and hatred leads to murder, and he has used this technique to bring many strong men and women down.

And when we are trapped by sin, it is our natural reaction to believe that we can save ourselves from it. I spent several hours in a pen with an angry goat because I didn’t want to ask for help. The fact of the matter was, I was unable to get out on my own and no amount of determination could change that. And just as somebody else took the punishment for my stupidity, Christ has taken the punishment for our sins. We need to rely on His power, not on our own.