Christianity And

My dear Wormwood,
The real trouble about the set your patient is living in is that it is merely Christian. They all have individual interests, of course, but the bond remains mere Christianity. What we want, if men become Christians at all, is to keep them in the state of mind I call 'Christianity And'. You know -- Christianity and the Crisis, Christianity and Faith Healing, Christianity and Psychical Research, Christianity and Vegetarianism, Christianity and Spelling Reform. If they must be Christians let them at least be Christians with a difference. Substitute for the faith itself some Fashion with a Christian colouring...

That would be the introduction to the 25th Screwtape Letter, and if you don't know what that means, please see the link. C.S. Lewis at his finest.

I have grown particularly sick of the current Fashion in America to describe Christianity as Christianity and Conservatism, or Christianity and Republicanism, or the battle cry "For God, America and St. George W. Bush!" (or whomever shall replace said fallen idol). While God may have opinions in American politics, I doubt very much that He has anointed any particular political party or political organization with the whole measure of His blessing and favor; democracy leaves little room for the divine right of kings, after all, and if God favors America, He surely favors democracy. The inherent conflation of "religious" and "neither left nor center" in "Religious Right" worries me, especially the gnawing suspicion that some members see a different "right" in that phrase - "We are the ones to the right; therefore, we are the ones IN the right!"

Still, I know plenty of people who belong to the Religious Right who place their faith in God first and foremost, who are wonderful, decent Christians and possibly better in their faith than I can ever be. The movement, therefore, is not spawned of Satan, whatever I would like to believe when Religious Right spokespeople appear on television. I've learned to view quite a lot of fallacies as either merely amusing or fallacies on the part of the liberal interpreter rather than the conservative speaker.

Therefore, I was shocked to learn about the Conservapedia Bible Translation Project. Now, my link is to an outside source. This is intentional. I do not wish to encourage the project by diverting any traffic its way, and this article does a fairly good job describing and quoting it. If, like me, you find it unbelievable, an exaggeration or joke, there is a link to the actual project inside the article. The link to the actual project may not work at the moment; Stephen Colbert set the Colbert Nation to work last night vandalizing the project, and probably-not-coincidentally the servers for the Bible Project are currently unreliable. But you know. You can figure it out.

This project, ladies and gentlemen, proposes that the Bible itself is too liberal as received and needs to be adjusted accordingly. There appears to be some restraint; excisions are technically limited to later additions to the text and the suggested word replacements have at least a shred of validity. But any "translation" which works by adjusting the KJV by fiat rather than learning and interpreting the original languages... does not deserve the name "translation". At best, it is a paraphrase; at worst, a retcon. The guidelines look suspiciously like a retcon. (I was not aware, for instance, that Jesus' parables were supposed to be a clear and unambiguous statement of support for the free market.) This is considerably beyond Christianity And. This is getting into And Christianity. Or, Is Christianity. We can change the Bible, because if God Himself supports our ideology, we are justified in putting words in His mouth to clarify His position.

This is exactly the kind of thing I hate. Christianity is loving the Lord thy God and loving thy neighbor as thyself. Christianity is doing unto others as thou wouldst have them do unto thee. Christianity is not defined by capitalism, small government, military spending, the death penalty, or harsher jail sentences by any logical stretch. Christian politics ought to have priorities in line with Christ's. To me, this means that homosexual marriage is a nonissue; divorce is a more pressing one. If abortion is to be a priority issue, for the love of all that is holy, hold politicians accountable - don't permit a politician to buy your vote with an entirely empty promise to "support" abortion prevention, and don't permit a politician to give lip service to that ideal while performing unChristian acts in every other area.

Got that?

Now here's the hellishly tricky part for me. It's incredibly tempting to fight Christianity and Conservatism by becoming Christianity and Anti(Christianity and Conservatism). I have friends who entice me into Christianity and Liberalism - which, with some idiot Conservapedia people thinking that forgiveness is a Liberal concept (fine, I caved and linked directly), seems awfully tempting to believe. If being forgiving is inherently liberal, wouldn't that mean that Christianity is inherently liberal? The only judgment and damnation I recall in the NT was on people who claimed to be believers but acted falsely. There I go, buying into the Christianity And Anti-Anti-Christianity again.

It comes back to learning to stand - learning to follow God Himself, to stand for God rather than against something else. I am not called to rant about the follies of legalism. (Howevermuch fun Paul might have had doing so. So, so much fun.) I am not called to go out of my way to confront fringe elements, and it's not like I have any erring high authorities to correct in the daily course of things. I have to drop "Christianity And", even when the "and" is fighting "Christianity And". Of course, this can create an infinite regression of Christianity And Anti(Christianity And)...

I see only one thing to do at the moment. Your patient has become humble; have you drawn his attention to the fact? All virtues are less formidable to us once the man is aware that he has them, but this is specially true of humility. Catch him at the moment when he is really poor in spirit and smuggle into his mind the gratifying reflection, 'By jove! I'm being humble', and almost immediately pride - pride at his own humility - will appear. If he awakes to the danger and tries to smother this new form of pride, make him proud of his attempt - and so on, through as many stages as you please.

Oh, Number 14, how thou knowest me.

New look

Look! A shiny new template. I'n'it pretty?

Screw introspection, dangit

And the question pops up again, making me want to tackle innocent bystanders until it gets answered.

Did you click the link?

No?

I can wait till you do.

Okay, hopefully you clicked the link and hopefully it took you to Johnny the Tackling Alzheimer's Patient. If not, look it up. It's worth it. Best Scrubs-joke-to-become-a-running-family-joke ever.

Who am I?

At the moment, I'm not terribly concerned about the deep philosophical implications. I feel like I know myself pretty well. The whole existential who-are-we-as-human-beings thing? It's an interesting question to pursue, but not one I have a pressing need to figure out at the moment. I'm good with self-knowledge and pretty happy with my current level. 'S all good.

But apparently, it's not enough to know myself. I have to explain myself to everyone else - within the space of a single piece of paper. Or multiple pieces of paper. You see, I'm doing a job application which involves not only a resume, but also an autobiographical statement. Simultaneously, I'm having to revise my "Who am I?" essay for my teaching class. I have to figure out, not who I am, but how best to project my identity onto a few pieces of paper - and not even my identity, but that part of my identity which is acceptable for introducing myself to a stranger who may wish to employ me. So I have to figure out the balance between honesty and reserve - as Hitch would say, "not show it all at once, but show the real you." What part of me is the part that needs to go on that paper?

And do I really care?

I'm irreverent and flippant and silly, because I'm passionately, fervently and intensely dedicated to things that either don't interest or outright scare other people. (Old stories and language would be in the former, religion the latter.) I'm slow to commit and I keep my commitments few on the ground, because I'm intensely loyal and I'll give my all once I'm committed. I follow the rules meticulously when I agree with them and break them spectacularly when I don't - which makes me an unpredictable employee. Don't get me wrong, I don't randomly break rules - I go through discussing, disputing, etc if something really doesn't work for me. I'm just going to do what I think is right, and if negotiation doesn't work...

Well, that's not something you put on stuff for an employer to see. "Creative," "determined," what have you, but not "occasionally stubborn as a mule." Also, "laid back" and "adaptable" can be good, but "lazy" really can't. Not that I'm okay with laziness, but if I'm talking about myself...

Also I have a possible addiction to ellipses...

But I'm not sure...

Gah. This doesn't even get into detailing accomplishments for my resume. I hate resumes.

And I don't wanna talk about me. Don't wanna talk about "I". And if I want to talk about Number One, that's some other Guy. Why? Why? Why?

Screw introspection. And linguistics, while we're at it.

Nothing to say

I really don't have anything to say as I start this post. I've simply had my fill of reading, reading, reading for my class on Differentiating Instruction and must transition to writing somehow. Of course, the ideal outlet would be to write on my reading in the class forums, but I find I am disinclined to acquiesce to that suggestion.

This taking-classes-online thing is tricky, especially for an unemployed person with poor natural time-management skills. I also find myself with far too little time to write, too little time to talk, too little time to connect with people - because the natural connections of work and class have been broken. I suppose I could still write (look! I write! I'm a writer!), but I'm always left with the feeling that time could be better spent doing homework.

Perhaps this time could be better spent journalling ...

*glares at spellcheck*

You know, there is no law in the English language which definitely governs whether one does or does not double the final consonant when adding a verb ending. This little Microsoft Word convention seems to have caught on everywhere, but doubled final consonants are traditionally just an alternative, albeit more common in British usage than American. "Journalling" ought to be as acceptable as "journaling"...

...oh.

It is? Equally unacceptable?

Then learn a new verb. And learn also the word "spellcheck." You might find it useful.



There. Done. Where were we? Ah, yes, I could be journalling or working on fiction as well, but that requires that I actually feel like talking to myself (hmm, most of my recent journal entries are discussions of what I'm learning in class) or that I have an idea for a fiction story. Perhaps I should start a blog, even less frequently updated, wherein I publish my short fiction and poetry. It would be eagerly mobbed as people marveled (fine, I didn't double it, are you happy spellcheck?) at my brilliant ideas, then abandoned (or torch-and-pitchforked; maybe I should invest in a ruined castle or old windmill?) as everyone realized that I never get beyond ideas into an actual finished work worth reading. Except in essays where teachers insist on my finishing. Perhaps I should try reworking old essays for blog posts? But this of course will not interest many people. I find it brilliant that I pitted Beowulf against St. Andrew and brought in Sir Gawain to comment on the balance of faith and physical strength, along with Unferth making snide comments about Beowulf and St. Augustine pulling for Andrew, but few people will have both the knowledge base and the right sense of humor to appreciate it.

There's really only one solution. Post, and wikilink it to death so that everyone will learn more about these important topics! Now if only I can find a text of Andreas online.

And now for something completely late

As a junior in high school, I wrote an essay of which I was rather proud. I was given two months to write a comparison/contrast essay on a topic of my choice. I chose men and women. I learned a vitally important lesson: never choose the topic covered by the Dave Barry column you read in class. Your essay will not measure up.

We had to write multiple drafts, and I realized my mistake by the end of the first draft. Unfortunately, I then had only one night left to complete my remaining four required drafts. I was panicking (my notes show that I was considering comparing/contrasting Batman with Larry-Boy). Then, in a moment of inspiration, I discovered a topic and wrote one of my favorite compositions.

I typed it at the school library and failed to save a copy, which distressed me for years. Then, cleaning out my room one day, I discovered a folder full of schoolwork that I had considered important. Inside was my essay! There was much celebration. I determined to transcribe it as soon as possible. It has been a few years since.

In the frantic atmosphere of the end of the semester, I thought of this paper often. Now, having finished my last take-home final, I think it is time to transcribe the essay. Call it deep, call it important, call it thought-provoking - if you can do so with a straight face. And now, after nine years, I present my well thought-out Englilsh paper:

The Procrastinator and the Planner

Snapshots of Stefansdom

Flipping through my Bible, I notice that God is described in many ways, often with contradictions or complications. It's very hard to get a bead on the details of who this God person is. Sometimes, he is outraged by sin, reduced to sputtering name-calling by the offenses of his people. Sometimes he insists that he can never lose patience, never leave, never forsake. Sometimes God is just, and sometimes God has no patience for those who insist on justice over mercy, nor for those who ask for signs of justice in a horrible, unjust situation. David begs God to stay near, because God's presence is a comfort and strength; Job demands God leave him alone, because God's presence is agony. Sure, the loving God comes out more often, but these various portraits don't always line up, and no amount of theological explanation will ever truly fix the fact that we live in a world with evil and ugliness that simply do not fit with our beautiful Savior.

I see the same disjointedness in people discussing God. Sure, a lot of attributes overlap, but some people mostly notice that we fall short of God's glory - the whole "and God saw that it was very good" and "we are God's workmanship" are anomalies. Some people just love their Jesus and their Jesus loves them, and it seems like their Jesus is an exceptionally huggy teddy bear to those of us who feel our dry spells more keenly. Some people fear God's judgment, others feel God's compassion for the needy, and some people seem to think that God is a cosmic boss who sort of checks in now and again to make sure you're making quota, but doesn't notice much as long as you're doing your job okay.

(An unrelated note: why does this spellcheck not like "okay", or "spellcheck" for that matter? Fine, "spellcheck" is a dubious word, but "okay" has been with us for decades. Learn it, o dictionary.)

We work very hard trying to consolidate and piece together these different concepts of God, adjusting for bias, etc. But forming a detailed AND coherent picture seems impossible. It reminds me of my attempts to piece together my snapshots of Stefansdom.

I visited Stefansdom, or St. Stephen's Cathedral, in Vienna in 1996, and I was awed by its Gothic grandeur. From the courtyard, I started frantically taking pictures with my boxy Barbie camera, working my way ever so carefully from the foundation to the top of the steeple, planning the overlap, so that when I got home I could reconstruct the entire view of this impressive structure. I believe eight pictures were needed. A few months later, I was nearly in tears. For some reason, the lines simply wouldn't line up. The collage was fractured, an image collected through shattered glass. I didn't understand - I hadn't walked around or anything.

It wasn't until my high school photography class that I learned exactly what had gone wrong. Careful as I had been, I'm only human. To collect pictures and have even a chance at assembling them neatly, the camera needs to be held at exactly the same point, swiveling and tilting from a perfectly fixed center - and even then, the photos will fit together far better in a three-dimensional space than in a flat scrapbook.

Now try applying this to our image of God! Our lenses aren't anywhere near big enough to grasp the whole thing. We have to be content with assembling snapshots from different perspectives, different distances, different times - and then pulling them together in a small, flat space to look at. Of course the result is going to be crazed. From a hundred feet away, a matter of seconds and the tilt of my twelve-year-old head from a fixed point was enough to shatter Stefansdom. The difference from those close to God, those far, those hiding, those now and then is enough to cause a lot more confusion.

Still, those snapshots do serve a purpose. Shattered though the image may be, I can still recognize Stefansdom when I see it in my pictures. If we collect enough snapshots, maybe we can reconstruct God enough to recognize him when we see him. Once we see him, the snapshots can be filed away. They are nothing to the sight we see before us in life.

Religion in schools

I was required to write on a "contemporary issue" for my secondary experience class, and we've been talking about religion and schools. Guess what I ended up writing on?

Bear in mind that I'm writing to an audience of scientists very dismissive of religious priorities, and I'm wishing I could address my fellow Christians. My tone gets kind of confusing otherwise.

I've discussed religion frequently in the eJournals, but I can't help bringing it up again. Perhaps it is in part because I wish I could explain to the fervent fundamentalists how much a thoroughly secular education has helped my own faith. I also grow tired of defending my love of God and my love of scholarly analysis; it seems I am expected to choose one or the other. The culture wars are just as much an issue in the modern church as in any secular sphere, and as hotly debated. So much for "if it is possible, so far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone"! And, of course, at least one college friend has asked condescendingly how I can be so smart and still be religious. So much for open-mindedness!
Religion is at the core of our lives, and defines us if it is itself defined. This is the crucial understanding for a secular school. We do not want to deny that which defines many of our students in a positive way. Imagine if all mention of football or art were forbidden at school! Yet to truly allow religion, we cannot advocate any one religion. My test has always been this: would I be happy if the same lesson were given with an equally Muslim/Jewish/Hindu/Buddhist slant? If we are discussing the history of the Reformation or the influence of Christianity on literature, yes, I generally would be happy. It would be beneficial to learn more about the Sunni/Shiite split or the Eastern influence on Modernism. I actually came up with my idea for a religion/philosophy class because of the variety of philosophies I've encountered in debates. It's impossible to understand how reasonable minds can differ if we do not understand the other reasonable minds. Fundamentalists ought to recognize the value of knowing their demographic if they view all other faiths as merely the unconverted awaiting conversion. Non-fundamentalists know that intolerance can be broken only by understanding and empathizing.
In the humanities, it's easy enough to stick to factual ground - "x people believed this and acted thus". Ironically, it's the sciences where religion gets dodgy. And again ironically, it's the immense respect which the ignorant have for science which causes some of the problem. Creationists fear evolutionary theory not because they think science is worthless, but because they think science proves truth. Knowing truth cannot contradict truth, and knowing the Bible is true, they think the science supporting evolution must be faulty. The creationists I know earnestly believe that credible science must prove the Bible, and that the creation science must therefore be more credible than evolutionary science. It then becomes a simple question of whether we intend to teach real science or a flimsy excuse to support atheism.
Isn't it lovely how the problem gets inverted? Therefore, the biggest mistake any teacher can make, the biggest mistake any other person can make, is to treat it as simply a religious debate - because we don't want to cede the religious debate to the godless atheists. Similarly, it's silly to think we'll persuade everyone that science could draw a conclusion that might contradict the infallible Word of God.
In a broad-minded community, I don't think the problem would get too severe. In a narrow-minded community, I might encourage biology teachers to teach the entire course through the lens of evolution, to allow time to deal with all the objections. I would introduce the course with a discussion of Bacon and secondary causes - the idea that science started with the assumption that God did it, but that "God did it" is not a sufficient answer, and that science is about examining secondary causes - if God did it, how God did it. The class could then examine the evidence for evolution themselves. Parents could be allowed to participate. What is our best guess for how God did it? Plenty of intelligent design folks would be happy to provide evidence that young earth is unlikely, and coming from a source designed to combat godless evolution, a religious community might be more ready to accept the flaws in young earth theory. Gaps in evolutionary theory could be admitted with the caveat that just because we don't know, it doesn't mean we'll never figure out a good reason for this. Children inclined to explain this with intelligent design could: though intelligent design is an unscientific theory (because it involves God, not just secondary causes), it is not problematic as a philosophy. The problem could be a marvelous opportunity to examine what science is and isn't, and how conclusions are reached. However, it would require a great deal of time, because creationism delights in posing complicated questions and demanding simple answers.
Prayer in schools, the Ten Commandments in schools... honestly, if people can't tell the difference between their faith and the trappings of their faith, they're in trouble. No person's right to pray in school should be abridged. No person's right to display religious teachings should be abridged. I'm inclined to think that if someone wants to say a prayer at a commencement, as long as it doesn't include terms of "and smite/enlighten the godless heathens here present" or "give us faithful victory", it should be considered acceptable; good wishes should always be acceptable, and those good wishes expressed through prayer can be the more earnest. If the Ten Commandments are on display, it had better be for a comparison with Hammurabi's Code or some such, because otherwise one might as well post the rules on kosher or the five pillars of Islam. Again, if a similar thing involving another faith would be offensive, your faith shouldn't be privileged.
As for abstinence and other questions of sexuality, I think a little pragmatism is vitally important. Parents need to take the responsibility to teach their children their values on sex and drugs; it is the duty of the school only to teach what is wise and foolish according to secular standards. In secular America - well, I almost typed "sexular America" there, and I'm not sure that Freudian slip isn't accurate. If parents do not wish their children to learn what can be discovered everywhere in America, those children should be kept safely at home. If parents do not believe even in safe sex outside marriage, they should be able to explain to their children why. It might be wise for schools to include the emotional aspects of sex in sex education, but the responsibility for transcending the secular standard lies at home. Perhaps youth group Sunday Schools should start sex ed!
This paper may have been more of a description of my beliefs than an action plan, but what can I say? My beliefs will be integral to how I act on this issue. I may as well know what they are. I don't think America's future depends on solving our religious conflicts. Conflicts, smart and stupid, have been here throughout America's history, and this fight causes less damage than some. I think the future of the faithful, though, looks grim if they can't stop fighting for God to follow God.

I'm a teacher! I teach! - The First Hurdle

Today was a very important day. Today, for the first time, I faced down a class of high school students and taught them a lesson. I am officially a teacher!

(That is, until I'm flushed with triumph about teaching with my first official lesson plan in my methods course next semester. Or until I'm student teaching next spring. Or until I get my license. Or until I have my own classroom. Or until I've finished my first year. Or until that magic day when the class REALLY gets it. I reserve the right to name any and all future days The Official Start Of My Teacherness.)

How did I manage? Heroically, considering my deep dislike of presentations. I took presenting an old Scottish ballad to a bunch of apathetic, academically indifferent teenagers, looked it squarely in the eye, and... got myself good and drunk first, my old coping mechanism for nerve-wracking assignments.

Those who do not know me will have entirely the wrong impression now; those who do will be utterly confused. I do not use alcohol or any other foreign chemicals to get plastered. I simply distract myself working or surfing the Net or reading till the not-so-wee hours of the morning, and fatigue poisons do the rest. I used to think it was just procrastination; now I wonder if it's a half-deliberate attempt to hit an altered state of consciousness where I no longer feel nervous or frustrated, only euphoric or depressed.

Anyway, I chose my poem well. I managed to get the kids discussing the nature of fairies, and I managed to stop them at the point when they were looking at me funny by explaining that I wanted to discuss the magical kind. And they stuck with that! The first two verses, I let 'em struggle with the original poem. Then I asked them what they thought it meant, when the last stanza warns "'And nae maid comes to Carterhaugh /And a maid returns again.'" They seemed to agree with the girl who decided it must mean no maid ever comes back alive. All attention was riveted on me when I explained that the second time, "maid" was being used in the sense of "virgin". :-D It's sad how predictably it works, actually - load on the sex, and the kids are completely involved. After that point I gave them my quick translation so they could follow without getting utterly lost.

I lost their attention during the lengthy passage on how to free Tam - in retrospect, I should have emphasized more the odd situation of the man being the damsel in distress. Overall, I felt like I did an adequate job, but I could have done better. I also felt like I was getting off easy. This class was taught by an extremely experienced, competent, and deft teacher whose students were polite and well-behaved for this stranger while their teacher was watching. The teacher had also gotten their sympathy for me by comparing my student teaching to their senior exit presentations. The teacher also covered what would have been a woeful lack if I had been going solo - I completely neglected to review, highlight important points, take questions, etc. The teacher covered for me so naturally that I doubt the students noticed. I'm just glad it wasn't a formal lesson assignment. The review is the part where you actually hammer the lesson home; otherwise, odds are it'll be forgotten by nightfall. The teacher also improvised an excellent assignment: allow the students to write their own ballad. I would have spent more time collectively plotting before splitting the students into groups to work on different sections, but then, I would have planned this in advance or I wouldn't have been able to think of it at all. The teacher was improvising brilliantly with the time I left over.

I'm not being too hard on myself; I did well for what it was, and it's okay that I still have things to learn to pay attention to. (Dangling prepositions will be permitted in my class, thank you very much.) Still, it did get me thinking. I did a fraction of what a teacher needs to do, and I got the following review from a teacher who knows enough to know the lack:

"Ms. [gosh, it's weird to be called by my last name] taught a lesson on ballads (emphasis on "Tam Lin") on April 18. She had a class of 17 English IV Standard students in the palm of her hand. When she completed her lesson, the class decided she should be their teacher until the end of the year. :)"

Is it blasphemous that I spent the latter half of the period thinking about how God covers for us? We're allowed to stand or fall for the part we're ready to play, but for the rest, He covers so deftly that we look like we did something we can't. Here, a teacher made it look like I can teach a class. (Actually, God was probably involved too. Three hours of sleep following a sleep-deprived week, then no caffeine... but then, adrenaline does something too.) Another time, I might hold my temper with that complete and utter idiot, or I might offer good emotional support, or some sudden insight... but the minute I think I'm really doing well, that it's my contribution that's making the most difference, I'm kidding myself.

Still lots to learn and grow into!

The Terrible Trivium

Yes, I'm starting with another quote. Let's face it: quotes are how I frame the world.

The Humbug whistled gaily at his work, for he was never as happy as when he had a job which required no thinking at all. After what seemed like days, he had dug a hole scarcely large enough for his thumb. Tock shuffled steadily back and forth with the dropper in his teeth, but the full well was still almost as full as when he began, and Milo's new pile of sand was hardly a pile at all.

"How very strange," said Milo, without stopping for a moment. "I've been working steadily all this time, and I don't feel the slightest bit tired or hungry. I could go right on the same way forever."

"Perhaps you will," the man agreed with a yawn (at least it sounded like a yawn).

"Well, I wish I knew how long it was going to take," Milo whispered as the dog went by again.

"Why not use your magic staff and find out?" replied Tock as clearly as anyone could with an eye dropper in his mouth.

Milo took the shiny pencil from his pocket and quickly calculated that, at the rate they were working, it would take each of them eight hundred and thirty-seven years to finish.

"Pardon me," he said, tugging at the man's sleeve and holding the sheet of figures up for him to see, "but it's going to take eight hundred and thirty-seven years to do these jobs."

"Is that so?" replied the man, without even turning around. "Well, you'd better get on with it then."

"But it hardly seems worth while," said Milo softly.

"WORTH WHILE!" the man roared indignantly.

"All I meant was that perhaps it isn't too important," Milo repeated, trying not to be impolite.

"Of course it's not important," he snarled angrily. "I wouldn't have asked you to do it if I thought it was important." And now, as he turned to face them, he didn't seem quite so pleasant.

"Then why bother?" asked Tock, whose alarm suddenly began to ring.

"Because, my young friends," he muttered sourly, "what could be more important than doing unimportant things? If you stop to do enough of them, you'll never get to where you're going." He punctuated his last remark with a villainous laugh.

"Then you must -----" gasped Milo.

"Quite correct!" he shrieked triumphantly. "I am the Terrible Trivium, demon of petty tasks and worthless jobs, ogre of wasted effort, and monster of habit."

And, to follow this with a related obstacle earlier in the story, with the Lethargians:

"Well, if you can't laugh or think, what can you do?" asked Milo.

"Anything as long as it's nothing, and everything as long as it isn't anything," explained another.

"There's lots to do; we have a very busy schedule-

"At 8 o'clock we get up, and then we spend

"From 8 to 9 daydreaming.

"From 9 to 9:30 we take our early midmorning nap.

"From 9:30 to 10:30 we dawdle and delay.

"From 10:30 to 11:30 we take our late early morning nap.

"From 11:00 to 12:00 we bide our time and then eat lunch.

"From l:00 to 2:00 we linger and loiter.

"From 2:00 to 2:30 we take our early afternoon nap.

"From 2:30 to 3:30 we put off for tomorrow what we could have done today.

"From 3:30 to 4:00 we take our early late afternoon nap.

"From 4:00 to 5:00 we loaf and lounge until dinner.

"From 6:00 to 7:00 we dillydally.

"From 7:00 to 8:00 we take our early evening nap, and then for an hour before we go to bed at 9:00 we waste time.

"As you can see, that leaves almost no time for brooding, lagging, plodding, or procrastinating, and if we stopped to think or laugh, we'd never get nothing done."

"You mean you'd never get anything done," corrected Milo.

"We don't want to get anything done," snapped another angrily; "we want to get nothing done, and we can do that without your help."

"You see," continued another in a more conciliatory tone, "it's really quite strenuous doing nothing all day, so once a week we take a holiday and go nowhere, which was just where we were going when you came along. Would you care to join us?"

"I might as well," thought Milo; "that's where I seem to be going anyway."

Those are from The Phantom Tollbooth by Norman Juster. Shel Silverstein seems to have heard of the Lethargians:

I've been working so hard you just wouldn't believe,
And I'm tired!
There's so little time and so much to achieve,
And I'm tired!
I've been lying here holding the grass in its place,
Pressing a leaf with the side of my face,
Tasting the apples to see if they're sweet,
Counting the toes on a centipede's feet.
I've been memorizing the shape of that cloud,
Warning the robins to not chirp so loud,
Shooing the butterflies off the tomatoes,
Keeping an eye out for floods and tornadoes.
I've been supervising the work of the ants
And thinking of pruning the cantaloupe plants,
Calling the fish to swim into my nets,
And I've taken twelve thousand and forty-one breaths,
And I'm TIRED!

I'm astounded at how literature can be so aware of my busy schedule! It forgets blogging and Internet surfing for quotes, though. Also meticulously editing invisible HTML to clean it up where it won't be noticed.

Handy trick

My roommates and several other people I know memorize Scripture by writing verses on cards or slips of paper and sticking them where they will be frequently seen.

I have begun to set the appropriate passage as my browser's home page.

Because gosh darn it, as often as I want to quote I Corinthians 1:18-29, I ought to memorize it.

Wisdom and foolishness

A line from Pride and Prejudice is ringing in my head: "We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room..."

I've always loved and identified with Elizabeth. Not that, you know, my infrequent blogging has ANYTHING to do with a disposition disinclined to discourse with a disinterested audience. Perhaps I need to set myself a schedule to offset the genius impulse. And moving on to tonight's topic, I apologize for its incoherence; I'm running on far too little sleep. But where would I be if I posted only when I wished to say something which will amaze teh interwebs? (Yes, Mom, that "teh" is intentional. Remind me to explain net slang sometime.)

20 Where is the wise man? Where is the scholar? Where is the philosopher of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? 21 For since in the wisdom of God the world through its wisdom did not know him, God was pleased through the foolishness of what was preached to save those who believe. 22 Jews demand miraculous signs and Greeks look for wisdom, 23 but we preach Christ crucified: a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, 24 but to those whom God has called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. 25 For the foolishness of God is wiser than man's wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than man's strength.

-I Corinthians 1:20-25, NIV

I'm very fond of this passage of Corinthians - from around 1:10 till the end of chapter 2. I Cor 1:25-28 or so is quoted in Madeleine L'Engle's A Wrinkle In Time, and is possibly my favorite part of that whole book. (One of these days I'll figure out whether the psalms in that book are Scripture or her originals.) When I discovered the source, I kept returning there. I liked to read and reread it; it's about how God chooses flawed instruments to reveal His glory. I still love that quote. I have not quoted it above. Because the part I quoted seems more relevant tonight.

Last week I had the privilege of watching Dr. Francis Collins, head of the now-completed Human Genome Project, give a lecture on science and faith (huzzah for people in favor of ending a fruitless, misinterpreted conflict!). Shortly thereafter, my mother lent me What's So Great About Christianity by Dinesh D'Souza, an interesting book that seems interested in being the Mere Christianity for the scientific mind. Today, a coworker brought up a scenario from his philosophy class challenging the right of Christ to forgive sins. All in all, the ideas wrapped up in the intellectual defense of Christianity are front and center in my mind.

Maybe the reason I like this section of Corinthians - that 1:10 or so through around the end of chapter 2 - is that it contains one of the rare mentions of intelligence. "The intelligence of the intelligent I will frustrate", in 1:19 - how encouraging! It seems that intellect is an ultimately insufficient means of understanding God. "Where is the wise man? Where is the scholar? Where is the philosopher of this age?" Frankly, spread across the board. It seems one can divine truth neither by opposing nor by agreeing with the psychologist, the professor, the scientist. No, one must abandon all hope of reaching true wisdom or power without the aid of God.

It's interesting to me the way people read this sort of thing - the Biblical warnings about Christ appearing foolish to the world, etc. I suspect the atheist would simply say Christianity foolish, a historical misunderstanding ranging from laughable to lamentable. Many Christians seem to react by smugly believing that we'll show them someday! They laugh now, but we'll get the last laugh! They're the fools!

I don't like either reaction. I don't think God's wisdom is foolishness only to the world. I think that as long as we are in the world, even we who say we follow God's wisdom will find it foolish. I also think a lot of foolishness is justified by claiming to be God's wisdom. Unfortunately, while even the foolishness of God is wiser than man's wisdom, the foolishness of men is not. To react to this passage in any way other than with profound humility is to become the philosopher of this age with all the answers. (I would also love to reiterate the parallels I see between the Jewish/Greek conflict in the early Church and the conservative/liberal conflict in the modern Church, but that's another topic and I'm already wandering a fair bit.)

All this to say I like a reminder that being a fool for Christ is more than accepting humiliation - it's accepting humility.

I mentioned Mere Christianity above. Lewis is one of the greatest apologists for the Christian faith since Augustine. His strong intellectual arguments are popular to repeat in Christian circles. Unfortunately, they (like all arguments with subjects as all-encompassing as Life, the Universe and Everything) are flawed and fallible. Lewis himself was stricken by a loss in a debate on the subject later in his career. I wish I knew the details or the line of the arguments presented! I wonder sometimes if this blow shook his faith in any way, a faith closely tied with his faith in logic ("why don't they teach logic in these schools!"). I like to imagine that he went through a period of wrestling with God and questioning his faith in the intangible. I also like to imagine that this led to his creating my favorite defense of Christianity:

"One word, Ma'am," he said, coming back from the fire; limping because of the pain. "One word. All you've been saying is quite right, I shouldn't wonder. I'm a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won't deny any of what you said. But there's one thing more to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things—trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that's a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We're just babies making up a game, if you're right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That's why I'm going to stand by the play-world. I'm on Aslan's side even if there isn't any Aslan to lead it. I'm going to live as like a Narnian as ever I can even if there isn't any Narnia. So, thanking you kindly for our supper, if these two gentlemen and the young lady are ready, we're leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for the Overland. Not that our lives will be very long, I should think; but that's a small loss if the world's as dull a place as you say."

Puddleglum, The Silver Chair*

It is a divine foolishness, this search for Overland. And now that I'm done quoting more than Mrs. Who in A Wrinkle in Time, I'm going to bed.

*I suspected I wouldn't have to type this out for myself, that I'd find a quote by googling "Puddleglum four babies" (on the grounds that "four babies" is a rather unique part of the quote). I am happy to report that this worked beautifully. Except for the sloppy transcription on the first couple sites I tried. Linking turned out to be impractical.

Shamelessly literary ramblings

A HYMN TO GOD THE FATHER.
by John Donne

I.
WILT Thou forgive that sin where I begun,
Which was my sin, though it were done before?
Wilt Thou forgive that sin, through which I run,
And do run still, though still I do deplore?
When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done,
For I have more.

II.
Wilt Thou forgive that sin which I have won
Others to sin, and made my sin their door?
Wilt Thou forgive that sin which I did shun
A year or two, but wallowed in a score?
When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done,
For I have more.

III.
I have a sin of fear, that when I have spun
My last thread, I shall perish on the shore ;
But swear by Thyself, that at my death Thy Son
Shall shine as he shines now, and heretofore ;
And having done that, Thou hast done ;
I have no more.

I have a deep and abiding love for John Donne which will probably crop up repeatedly if I keep writing here. An intellectual trying to grasp incomprehensible truths, a pious man with a positive fascination with sex, a believer who often felt no faith whatsoever - the contradictions are delightfully puzzling and familiar. After four years of study and seven years of love, I forget how incomprehensible his language can be for modern readers.

Be glad I'm not posting an analysis of Satire #3 or Sonnet 14: "Batter My Heart, Three-Personed God;" that I as yet but seek to study this one song of Donne's.

Anyway, this poem can be paraphrased thus: "God, will you forgive me for being a sinful human? Will you forgive me for sinning perpetually? Will you forgive me for getting others to sin? Will you forgive me for falling into that sin I thought I never would fall into? Hey, there's more I can list! Will you forgive my doubts, too? If you'll swear that it's all good, we're good."

But I love the refrain, because it's part of Donne's perpetual punning. Ordinarily I loathe punning with the fire of a thousand suns, but Donne's so dang good at it. "When thou hast done, thou hast not Donne, for I have more."

It's speculated, however, that there's another pun in that poem. See, his beloved wife's maiden name was More. "When thou hast done, thou hast not Donne; for I have More." The last line of the poem is usually rendered "I fear no more", but I prefer this obscure alternate version - "I have no more" - because I suspect it's what was on Donne's mind. His wife died a few years before this poem was written, and it broke his heart and almost killed him. "And having done that, thou hast Donne; I have no More."

Long, vaguely comprehensible rambling? Yes. But it comes down to this: this poem is, for me, a potent reminder of all the things I cling to before God. "I have More." This is the same guy who shamelessly wrote "For God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love..." and is famous for his mingling of the sacred and the sexual. It must have been very, very hard for him to remember God with his wife, and harder still to face Him having lost his wife. How many good things do I put before God? Shamelessly? Nakedly? Will he forgive the sin through which I run, and do run still, which I ought to deplore? And when will I learn to deplore it? (Donne was also the Dean of St. Paul's Cathedral; I suppose he was probably quicker on the deploring front than I.)

A fancy way of saying I've been prioritizing terribly lately. I've got to get on that tomorrow.

An explanation of the shiny new tags

I'm going through and tagging my entries, and thought I'd explain a little something.

Most of the tags are intuitive and sensible. "Briars" and "thorns", though, are not, and there is a distinction between the two.

"Briars" are impersonal or inhuman forces which cause anything from headaches to tragedy.

"Thorns" are personal, human forces which do the same.

And it may be noted that some of my "briars" are human, and some of my "thorns" are indistinguishable from those briars. Since I like neat categories, I thought I'd apologize up front for this shamelessly subjective distinction between "forces comprising humans which achieve inhuman immutability" and "people who ought to be able to behave better, darnit".

And now that I have thoroughly lost everyone, time for the revived blog to go! Expect more ranting about the education system in the new blog, by the way. I'm learning all kinds of interesting things about educational theory.

A New Leaf

I confess, I've forgotten about this thing. But as my sister starts a new blog, I figure it's only fair to join her in posting *waves to her sis over at Introspect*. If you've been here before, you may notice a few changes to my profile. Since the original Kir is being open about her identity, and since I don't see hoards of Internet stalkers beating down my door, I have opened up and admitted my first name. Also, I've updated my profile a bit, since in the past year I've gotten a little direction in my life.

Speaking of my sister, I wish to apologize for deleting your comment in a fit of "you revealed my secret identity!" panic prior to deciding on these changes. I'm keeping it in my email though, so if you want me to repost it I can do so verbatim.

Calling All Samaritans

I expect no one will read this, seeing as how I haven't updated in almost a year, but I have to write anyway.

We did the parable of the Good Samaritan in church today, and quite wonderful it was. I got intrigued when the pastor began describing how Samaritans were viewed by the Jews. Oh, I knew the two groups hated each other - loathed each other - despised each other; I didn't fully understand why.

You see, the Samaritans were simply not good enough. They were the bastards, the half-breed descendents of Jews who had compromised the true faith. Some synagogues would close their services with a prayer that God would exclude the Samaritans at the resurrection - basically, "Damn them, O Lord." Worse than pagans, these people had known the true faith but adulterated it almost beyond recognition.

At least, according to the Jews.

It occured to me to wonder what sort of unholy practices these Samaritans accepted. Perhaps they embraced the legitimacy of other faiths. Perhaps they accepted homosexuals. Perhaps they allowed women a place of power. Perhaps they despised the self-righteous hypocrisy rampant among the Pharisees and Sadduccees of the day. Perhaps they simply challenged the status quo.

Probably not.

But still. The Jews had a violent hatred of the Samaritans because they regarded them as second-class, illegitimate members of the same faith; the Samaritans had a violent hatred of the Jews in response. It sounds awfully familiar. It sounds, in fact, like Christianity in modern America, where anyone much to the left is a heretic and anyone much to the right is a fanatic - at least in the eyes of whoever speaks. Having moved to the left of the traditions in which I was raised, I feel very much like a Samaritan at times. And hatred of the self-righteous can get so very, very easy.

So I want to issue a call to all Samaritans: Let's see how we can imitate the Good Samaritan. So we are despised, rejected, hated; so what? We still follow a God who calls us to respond to hate with love, to bigotry with charity, to coldness with warmth. And that call does not extend only to those outside the faith, but to those so far in that they're heading out the other side. And perhaps we can remember that while Jesus spent a lot of time attacking the Pharisees and teachers of the law, while His only encounters with Samaritans were friendly ones, He nonetheless considered Himself a Jew and not a Samaritan. There is a place between fanaticism and heresy.

Oh, and that great line from the movie Luther: "It is easier to hate evil than to love good." But not better.

Blessed are the poor in spirit

Two-by-four, head; head, two-by-four. So nice to see you two getting reacquainted. Mind you keep the plank away from the eye.

This week has been an interesting one, insofar as Bible stuff goes. Wednesday I went to a study which was going over Luke 7, the week after it went over Luke 6. The sermon this morning was on Luke 4, with Jesus reading from Isaiah at Nazareth. See if you can find some subtle similarity among these various verses emphasized from those passages:

"Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. [...] But woe to you who are rich, for you have already received your comfort." Luke 6:20, 24

"Go back and report to John what you have seen and heard: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is preached to the poor." Luke 7:22

"Two men owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he canceled the debts of both. Now which of them will live him more?[...] I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven - for she loved much. But he who has been forgiven little loves little." Luke 7:41-42, 47

"The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor." Luke 4:18-19

These are most of the verses that got any emphasis from the various lessons. All lessons pointed out that in these passages, financial poverty is not the issue; spiritual poverty is. All lessons pointed out as well that when we do not recognize ourselves as being the poor, we're deceiving ourselves and deceiving ourselves out of the gift of grace into the bargain.

I always have to wonder how God defines this recognition. I'm a pretty bright girl; I can look at my life and figure out objectively that I don't measure up to God's standard. Do I feel impoverished? No. There are a couple verses that I always feel are tailor-made for me:

Come, all you who are thirsty,
come to the waters;
and you who have no money,
come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
without money and without cost.
Why spend money on what is not bread,
and your labor on what does not satisfy?
Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good,
and your soul will delight in the richest of fare.
-Isaiah 55:1-2

You say, "I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing." But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked. I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in the fire, so you can become rich; and white clothes to wear, so you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so you can see.
-Revelation 3:17-18

I'm pretty good about rejoicing in my blessings, but also pretty good at ignoring anything that makes me uncomfortable. This includes my own shortcomings. I know they're there, but I'm enjoying my material, mental and emotional riches even when I'm aware that my spiritual debts have reached an all-time high.

So, here's a puzzler: how does a girl learn to become greedy for spiritual riches while still enjoying contentment in other areas? Better figure out the right answer soon, because I think God may be trying to send me a subtle little message with these lessons.

Inside out and upside down

"Thou art my beloved Son; in thee I am well pleased." - Luke 3:21 KJV

"The LORD hath said unto me, Thou art my Son; this day have I begotten thee." -Psalm 2:7

"Behold my servant, whom I uphold; mine elect, in whom my soul delighteth..." - Isaiah 42:1

My study NIV has failed to mention the connection between the first verse and the second two. This is what sermons are good for, pointing out connections.

We spend a lot of time these days worrying about self-esteem, self-respect, etc, and with good reason. There seems to be an inherent poverty in the human soul, a persistent belief in our own meanness, our insignificance in the universe. How many people really believe, in their heart of hearts, that they deserve any good thing? If I were REALLY known, we think, it would be impossible for anyone to love me.

Of course, most of us know this isn't our biggest problem. Our biggest problem is that we tend to think too well of ourselves. Maybe because we feel insignificant, we feel a need to impress others (and ourselves) with our strength, our wisdom, our intelligence, our power. Low self-esteem? That's the last thing I need to worry about. My besetting sin is pride, didn't you know that? That's WHY I'm so unlovable. I'm one of those bloody Pharisees, completely on top of the world, nowhere to go but down.

The two messages seem conflicting, but they obviously work well in tandem: I'm worthless, so I'd better go increase/show off my worth, but the fact that I'm doing that shows how worthless I am, etc. There's a phrase oft repeated in my church which applies here: "It's a lie from the pit of Hell, and it smells like smoke."

The thing is, God has told each of us that we are His beloved children. If we are Christians ("little Christs"), then the words of Psalm 2 and Luke 3 apply to us as well. "Your are my son; today I have become your Father. Ask of me, and I will make the nations your inheritance, the ends of the earth your possession," he invites us. I know, it's hard to believe in good news without strings attached - especially for those long in the Church, which seems to fear that preaching grace to the saved will result in orgiastic sin and chaos. You and I are God's creation, His pearl of great price, His beloved bride, His sons and heirs. This, not poverty, is our natural state, the inheritence which is ours since creation began.

But if we are Christians ("little Christs"), then the words of Isaiah and Luke 3 apply to us as well. "Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen one in whom I delight." We are called to be servants, to be willing to demean ourselves before others, not despite our inheritance but because of it. We should have an outlook "the same as that of Christ Jesus: who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant" (Philippians 2:5-7).

I think this is some of the foolishness of God that Paul talks about in I Corinthians 1:20-30. It's foolishness to ask people to give up their rights, to let themselves be pushed around, to place others above themselves. It's all very well in moderation, but really! There are limits.

Perhaps there are limits. I don't believe God asks women to wait hand and foot upon a husband whose idea of marriage is to keep wives barefoot, pregnant and thoroughly battered. I don't believe God asks men to sit idly in slavery and oppression, fawning at the feet of the oppressor, reveling in captivity. But I think God does call for submission nearly as radical. When someone takes your cloak, give your coat as well. If someone makes you carry something a mile, go the extra mile for them. In Christ there is neither slave nor free, but we should be willing to take on thankless tasks for one another even to the point of servility. We should give of ourselves, our time, and our money lavishly and with joy. This is not because we're worthless, because we deserve slavery, but because we are princes and princesses who have something to give, something which is needed.

Humans are inherently worthless, and should therefore work hard and push for their rights to achieve worth and recognition, to gain the acknowledgement of the masses. Humans are inherently priceless, and therefore can afford to work hard without pushing for rights, without human recognition or acknowledgement, with nothing but a "well done, good and faithful servant." If one of these ideas is true, the other is completely inside out and upside down.

Contentment

...is a nice cup of tea, a good book, family around, and the smell of homemade cinnamon raisin bread baking in the oven.

Actually, the first is contentment, the first two happiness, the first three joy, and the last alone is ecstacy. Having a father who's an amateur baker is a definite plus. I'm never moving.

When I'm depressed, I find myself worrying that depression is simply my natural state of being. My writing usually reinforces this impression; I'm at my most articulate when describing the soul-baring anguish of despair. It's easy to come away convinced that happiness isn't meant for me, that such snatches of freedom and joy are only brief highlights. It reminds me of one of the most poignant passages in the book Return of the King. Sam and Frodo are in Mordor, driven to despair and ready to give up. Sam remarks that if he were in front of Galadriel again, he wouldn't ask for anything fancy - just water and sunlight, two things sorely lacking in the hobbits' journey. Suddenly, the clouds part, and a sunbeam illuminates a stream the hobbits had missed. That's how my happiness seems, sometimes - a rare moment of brilliance in the midst of despair, just enough to continue the arduous journey of life.

But this is worth chronicling. Firelight and tea, cinnamon bread, family, laughter. A week in which I got two afternoons off. A good book just completed. For the better part of this week, I've been enjoying a peace and happiness at least as strong and inexplicable as any depression I've experienced. God provides moments of extravagant grace here, and if that's all I need to reach Mount Doom and gain passage into the West, that's what I'll take.

Thread Breaks

At the moment, I'm earning my daily bread in an embroidery shop. It's nice working with my hands after working with my brain all through college, but some days make me want to scream.

Like today. Our embroidery is done with some marvelous computer-run machines which, once set up, are supposed to run automatically through the intricate patterns to produce yet another stunning work of art (or, more often, simple logo or monogram). The worker, in theory, goes about her business setting up the next run, doing small chores, etc while the machine plugs away. The only thing which can stop this beautiful process is a thread break. I leave it to the reader to imagine how rare this event is in this age of miraculous technology.

Today we got to run a 43,000-stitch design. This is about ten times as long as a typical design - tricky to start with, because the machines are more prone to thread breaks the longer they run. (Not that I'm implying that these marvelous machines ever have thread breaks.) This is, however, doable; we ran this design on Friday in under an hour. So it's time to make it more challenging, and do it on a leather vest! Leather is about the least embroidery-friendly substance in the known world, at least out of the things anyone would ever consider embroidering. (And I'm an expert on that list. Our customers have had us embroidering everything from car covers to interesting segments of men's boxers.) And just in case we might get bored, the design would run right over two seams on the back of the vest - seams done blue jean style, only thicker because of the leather. The needles almost burst themselves with, er, joy.

But how many thread breaks? you ask, being too clever to be fooled by my bitter sarcasm. How many thread breaks? I lost count. But to give you an idea how this was running... well, I said we got to do this "today." In reality, we started this thing at 1:30 PM on Friday. At 4:45, it was a little over halfway done, and I was nearly stark raving mad. How many thread breaks? I must remember to ask the marvelous computer that was running the machine. Given that the average time to fix a thread break is 2 minutes, and the average running time between thread breaks was 20 seconds, it ought to be mathematically possible to figure it out right now. Even so, it was running better than today: the last third took from 9:30 AM to 1:00 PM.

By the end, my biggest peeve was not the thread breaks. I understood that the leather was tricky (and probably sticky, from the point of view of a rapidly running machine). What drove me mad was the machine's attempt to take care of them itself. It would detect a thread break and stop immediately - even if the thread break was nonexistent, or something that would quickly take care of itself if the machine would run through it. At other times, I would watch the thread fray to nothing before my eyes, and yet the machine would keep running, determined to make it work. In either case, I would have to back the machine up and make it do twice as much work to make up the mixed-up section. Sometimes, the tangled mess would fray the thread still more, and I'd have to redo a section three, five, ten times.

Being the wonderfully spiritual obsessively analogizing person I am, I distracted myself by trying to find Great Lessons in the mess. It started out seeming obvious: Listen to the operator. However smart your programming might be, however adjustable you might be, you will be wrong often enough that the operator's opinion ought always to come first. And ignoring that will lead to a lot of mess, and a lot of fuss that could be avoided the second the operator is heeded. Good good. Excellent idea. Then I realized the analogy breaks down at the point where the operator feels an intense desire to take a sledgehammer to the whole operation after a certain point. And especially when the operator starts hating the whole business. I don't think God's patience is so finite.

So, make of it what you will. I will settle on spiritual warfare. Demonic interference is the only explanation for the machine managing to get still worse when I started humming "It Is Well With My Soul." They're out to get me, I tell you.

Tidings of Comfort And Joy

Another Christmas has come and gone, much the same as every other Christmas. Family comes, family goes, gifts come and go, the feast comes (and comes... and comes... we'll be working through leftovers for the next couple weeks here). Our church had a service on Christmas, but with a dress code ranging from evening wear to blue jeans. The sermon was a marvelous illustration of Jesus as our hero, using comparisons to Sleeping Beauty, Beauty and the Beast, Return of the King, Superman, and the Matrix - mostly Return of the King. It's wonderful having a pastor with similar rabid hobbies.

But before he got to the story comparisons, our pastor went on a nice riff about heroes in general. He talked about how people come up to him a lot with problems, and ask, "Am I doing something wrong?" He says terrible things happen without our doing anything wrong, and we don't have to be strong enough to deal with them. We don't have to be big enough, or special enough, or smart enough to deal with every obstacle. It's as ludicrous as trying to stop an airplane from falling. And yet we've got a Superman ready to dash away from his day job at the first sign of distress. We might be stuck in a castle surrounded by a cage of thorns and beset by a dragon, but we've got a Prince fighting his way through. We have horrors in our lives, but we have a Beautiful Savior whose healing love can cover them. We have a King whose sword drives back the inexorable juggernaut of evil, a King whose hands bring healing in the aftermath, a King whose reign brings joy to the edge of darkness. And we have the One who will truly set us free.

It might have been observed that I'm fond of Isaiah. Aside from the passage that gives this blog its name, I particularly like Isaiah 59. It begins with an unshirking look at the utter injustice of this world. Then, midway through verse 15,

The LORD looked and was displeased
that there was no justice.

¹⁶ He saw that there was no one,
he was appalled that there was no one to intervene;
so his own arm worked salvation for him,
and his own righteousness sustained him.

God has seen, and He's said "Enough. I'm coming down there, and if anyone's interested in making a world of hurtin', they'll be getting one." Christmas Day is about our newfound opportunity for peace on earth, about our hero winning the battle, about the fact that we can leave this bloody mess to God and just collapse in a good cry and a rest while He takes care of it. It's about tidings of comfort and joy.