Biden’s Babel and Psalm 115

It is a necessary corollary, moving from the greater to the lesser, that if propositions have no meaning, the central proposition of post-modern epistemology, then the words that make up the proposition also have no meaning. Deconstructionism destructs meaning, leaving us looking at each other with confused faces like the doomed Babel Local Construction Workers Union. Professional educators are insisting that boys can be girls, 2+2 can equal 5 and that logic is white. Is it any wonder that professional politicians would in turn insist that husbands can have husbands and wives wives, that the unvaccinated are a danger to the vaccinated, that multi-trillion dollar budgets cost $0.00?

Which brings us to the President’s 24 hour, all-you-can-eat word salad bar. Some of us are young enough to know this is not normal, but old enough to know it’s not new. Vice-President and Senator Biden was well known for his longstanding intimate relationship with a certain Mrs. Malaprop. That is, he’s been blundering for decades, hopping about the District of Columbia on one foot as he tried to dislodge the other from his gob. He has, however, since running for and winning the office of the presidency taken it to a whole new level. Just about the clearest sentences to come out of his mouth are those where he goes off script, confessing that he’s afraid to offend his handlers by going off script.

I don’t pretend to know the reason behind all this. I’m not arguing that sinister forces chose him in order to enjoy not a Weekend at Bernie’s but 4 Four Years at the White House. I’m not even arguing that he is seriously cognitively challenged. What I am arguing is that his senseless talk makes perfect sense in a world without sense. To put it another way, he’s actually speaking our language. It is those who insist on explaining with words that words have no meaning that are incoherent. It is those who insist that words have no meaning, and who want to legislate against them, or bar them from social media that are confused, blithering fools.

From the creation to Babel, from Babel to the birth of the Word, from the birth of the Word to Pentecost, from Pentecost to today, language is so much more than a mere tool of communication. It is power and glory. It is death and life. It unites and divides. Assaulting language isn’t just bad philosophy but bad theology, because it is an attack on the Word Himself. The President of these United States, much like those who have gone before him, has embraced and championed not just lies but the wicked lie that there is no truth. The King of Kings and Lord of Lords, as He has done before, just may be letting the President become like the idols he worships. Our King speaks, and reality happens. The leader of the city of men, on the other hand, denies reality and can no longer speak.

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Forever Friend, Mike Walk; Specks and Logs

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How do you handle times of spiritual dryness?

There is a reason that mountaintop experiences are called mountaintop experiences- because it is the very glory of them that makes them so rare. The top of a mountain is sublime, exhilarating, moving. But you can’t live there. All of us on our journey to the Celestial City have moments of joy and comfort, and all of us pass through dark nights of the soul. If the authors of the Psalms, each of which experienced something I’ll never experience- the direct inspiration of the Holy Spirit from which comes the very voice of God- can go through these moments when God feels distant, surely we shouldn’t expect anything different for ourselves. When those times come, what do we do?

First, we respond neither with panic nor complacency. That God feels distant is not proof that He is distant. He is both ever and always on His throne, and at our side. Our experience doesn’t determine what’s true. Rather we are called to labor to have our experience submit to what’s true. That these moments happen, that they are normal, doesn’t mean they are good, or that we should be content to remain in the valley. We are called to draw near. And we should delight to draw near.

Second, we avail ourselves of the means of grace, even when we don’t feel like it. The Word preached comes with power, even when we don’t think we want that power, or fear it won’t come. The sacraments are food indeed. For me, coming to the Lord’s Table, because it not only reminds me of my sin, but of His grace, because I know I come as a child welcomed to the family table of my heavenly Father is always a refreshing rain in the desert. I not only come to the table, but remember that I, by His grace, belong there. My Father wants me there. Which in turn feeds my prayers. Take your dryness to the waters of life. I want every struggle to be a struggle I bring to my heavenly Father. In the midst of the means, however, I’m not looking for a miracle. That is, we don’t deposit our entering into the means of grace and then download immediate healing for our dryness. We instead go back to point one, neither panicking nor being complacent.

Third, I put before my eyes and ears those things that remind me of His grace. For my eyes, that means my wife. As I spend time with her I remember that I am His child, that my love for her is but a pale reflection of His perfect love for me. For my ears, I tune into those two musicians who have over the years consistently fed my soul, Nathan Clark George and Andrew Peterson. Each of them have a peculiar ability not just to sing happy songs about happy times, nor angsty songs about angsty times, but write honest accounts of both sin and redemption. They each take the gospel promises and break them open that we can see the richness of all we have in Christ. They feed my soul, and draw me closer to the One who loves my soul.

In short, we work, not out of fear, but in confidence. We receive, remembering we always and only stand because He was hung. Third, we rejoice in song. When He seems far it is never because He has moved, but because we have. And like the prodigal Father, He always welcomes us into His arms.

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Atin-Lay, Locus Classicus; COVID, Mandates and Me

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Risk and Reward


One of the deep challenges, recognized even by its proponents, of sundry church growth strategies is getting pew sitters engaged and involved. The challenge flows out of the fundamental contradiction between what is used to draw people in and where we want them to end up. That is, people are looking for worship services, styles that are modeled on entertainment, where we can come in, consume what we wish, and then head out on our way- much like going to the movie theater. No muss, no fuss, and sadly, relationships no more compelling than the relationships we have with those who sit in the same theater we sit in.

We want, by and large, to be left alone because such is safe. Relationships are messy things because they are combinations of messy things- sinners. The closer the relationship the greater the risk of pain. Superficial relationships can only create superficial wounds. Deep relationships, on the other hand, are apt to create deep wounds.

We want to encourage engagement, the building and blessing of community, however, precisely because superficial relationships provide only superficial rewards, while deep relationships provide deep rewards. While we may lose big when we bet big, we know for certain we cannot bet small and win big. Are we left then to divide ourselves between the risk averse, alone in the corner, and emotional adrenaline junkies alternately embracing and brawling?

The answer, like the answer to everything, is the gospel. The work of Christ on our behalf is not only the means by which we have peace with God, but the means by which we have peace with each other. The gospel begins with the recognition that we are sinners. Not mild sinners, polite sinners, not mere violators of accepted social conventions, but maimers of one another, selfish, slanderers, real sinners. We are the ones others are afraid to draw close to, because they wisely fear we might hurt them.

But Jesus. He forgives us, and having been forgiven we are empowered to forgive others. We draw close to others not because they won’t hurt us, but because we know the answer to the problem of hurting each other. We repent and we forgive. We draw close knowing that those who would hurt us have already been forgiven by the One who has forgiven us. We draw close knowing that they know they are forgiven, and so will forgive us when we hurt them.

Better still because of Jesus we know that all that we risk in our relationships is small potatoes. Our treasure is in heaven, unable to be stolen or tarnished. When my brother hurts me, I remember my Elder Brother loves me and forgives him. When I hurt my brother I remember my Elder Brother forgives me, and loves him. We have both been given the Holy Spirit, whom He called “another comforter.” That comfort carries a dual meaning. It soothes us when we are in pain. But it also literally means, “With strength.” It strengthens us to return back to the danger zone, which is where the reward is.

I have long resigned myself to the embarrassing truth, despite the ease with which I can address large crowds without fear, that I am an introvert, that I prefer to be alone, safe from danger. I’m asking my Lord, however, to help me take risks, that I might find reward. And better still bring reward to others. Lord, open me.

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Psalm 7; Shorter Catechism 93

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She Can’t Be 55

Today my precious wife celebrates the conclusion of her 55th journey around the sun. I, of course, celebrate with her. My trouble is my deep cognitive dissonance. I simply can’t believe she is 55. Stranger still, I can’t believe it for two equal but opposite reasons. She is both far too young to be 55 and far too old to be 55.

How, you might wonder, is she too young to be 55? Have you, I might answer, ever seen her? My wife’s beauty is something to behold. Her smile is infectious. Her eyes are intoxicating. Her crown of glory, her hair is lush and full. What is impossible to believe, however, what keeps me up in the attic looking for an aging painting of her, is her skin. Butter. No better way to say it. She has the face of a teenager. She is, however, also blessed with a youthful spirit. She is adventurous, fun-loving, full of laughter. She works hard, and the next day does it all over again. No, there’s just no way she can be 55. I know 55, not long ago having spent a year with it. And she’s not 55.

My birthday girl, however, is not only too young to be 55, she is too old to be 55. How so? In a word, wisdom. I often work from home, which allows me to often witness her working at home. Her work is dispensing wisdom. I listen to her as she does so while homeschooling our boys, or in everyday conversation with them. I sometimes hear her in conversation with various friends in sundry kinds of need. Women wisely seek out her wisdom. What I hear coming from her lips is gold, a wisdom refined. My beloved hasn’t had enough experience to have so much wisdom.

Which she would be the first to admit. Because she wisely understands that wisdom doesn’t so much come from experience, but from the Word of God. She knows God’s Word. She has, wisely over the years, committed to memory more verses than I could count. Better still, she brings them to bear in a way that bespeaks the active work of the Spirit in her life. Never once has she quoted to me a text from the Bible that I had never heard before. Not once. But I am the blessed recipient of hundreds of God’s Words fitly spoken. She has brought to mind and brought to bear exactly what I needed to remember, to believe, to submit to.

Early on in our relationship I bestowed on her this mellifluous nickname- Batnabbus. It means “Daughter of Encouragement” in Hebrew. It is the feminine form of Barnabas, son of encouragement. She surely has that gift. That said, the principle way I am encouraged by her is simply watching her walk with our Lord. If I knew enough Hebrew to do so I’d give her another nickname, whatever the female version of Enoch is. She is a dedicated woman who walks with God. I, on the other hand, am the blessed man who gets to walk beside her. God bless you my love, and happy birthday.

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Monism; Christians and Vulnerability

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Why is Big Eva so loose?

Because that’s what the boys like. Big Eva does not match the world’s standard of desirability. Her hair is a hot mess; she’s kind of flabby and her voice can be incredibly grating. She realizes that her only hope of attracting the object of her desire is an utter lack of chastity. Because the world knows it can always have its way with her, he likes to keep her nearby. Because she is not so much of a fox, he likes to keep her in the shadows.

I admit there was a time in my life when I embraced the spirit of Big Eva. I had this moment of epiphany, an insight that I thought could change the world. What if, I wondered, I could be a Christian, and cool at the same time? What if I could be less Urkel, more, to mix time frames, Fonzie? Surely this revolutionary strategy would undo centuries of the church being consigned to the backwaters? In my defense, when I had this great insight I wasn’t old enough to use real scissors.

What may be the most humiliating part of this strategy is when people speak it out loud. For decades one of the largest high school campus ministries explicitly taught its leaders to target the star quarterback and the popular cheerleader for conversion, because everyone else would follow them. What was once the largest church in the country actually went door to door not to proclaim the gospel but to ask unbelievers what they didn’t like about church. Those things disliked were promptly removed from the “worship” service.”

Big Eva’s desperation never gets more glaring than when it comes to her hot pursuit of academic credibility. Individuals do so by tossing aside the plain teaching of Genesis like a modest cardigan. Institutions, however, stand up boldly to proclaim their goals. Fuller Seminary began its history with the same wisdom I had as a little boy, affirming that they would be both faithful to God’s Word and be academically respected. Guess which one they tossed aside?

Jesus rebuked His followers in the Sermon on the Mount for worrying about such petty things as what they would eat and wear. Now His followers worry about what His enemies think of them. We are desperate for the approval of those our Lord disapproves of. We are as idolatrous as Judah was as the Chaldeans were marching their way. And we can expect as much protection from our paramours as the Chaldeans gave the Judeans. We can expect our shame to be exposed.

What Big Eva needs is less big and more eva. She needs to give up her aspirations and embrace her calling, to rest in, love and serve her true Husband, the risen and reigning Lord Jesus Christ. What I need is to put to death my own desires to please men, to instead take up my cross daily. Big Eva gets around. May she return to the One who bought her, not with money to take her, but with His blood, to redeem her.

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Jesus Changes Everything, The Return plus The Bible in 5, Philemon

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