Of the Making of Many Books: Reading as Journey Not Destination

A rule of reading that I have often observed and proclaimed is that one will always buy more books than one can read. Lately, I have had an even higher awareness of the disparity between the books I own, the books I keep buying, and the books I have actually read. Often, I wish I could be locked away in some dark dungeon or marooned on some forgotten island with an inexhaustible supply of resources and the world's largest library. However, whenever I am lost in one of these fantasies, the words of Solomon come sharply into focus: "of making many books, there is no end (Ecclesiastes 12:12)."

The truth is none of us will be able to read every book we want to before we die. Such a point was brilliantly established in a recent article entitled "The Sad, Beautiful Fact That We're All Going to Miss Almost Everything." While thinking over this article, a deeper question has been forming in my mind. Why would we want to read everything in existence? Holmes touches on this question near the end when she writes:

Imagine if you'd seen everything good, or if you knew about everything good. Imagine if you really got to all the recordings and books and movies you're "supposed to see." Imagine you got through everybody's list, until everything you hadn't read didn't really need reading. That would imply that all the cultural value the world has managed to produce since a glob of primordial ooze first picked up a violin is so tiny and insignificant that a single human being can gobble all of it in one lifetime. That would make us failures, I think.

Minus the reference to macroevolution, I think Holmes has a point. If my desire for cultural engagement through reading stems from a desire for conquest, then if I could achieve such a goal what does that say about the amount of literature that the human race has produced? Or, conversely, if I am able to accomplish this feat given the vast quantity that exists, what does that say about me? The urge to read everything ever undermines our own finitude. And why would we have it any other way?

The failure to accept that there is no way to possibly plumb the depths of every book I need or want to read makes reading a chore. Combined with the lamentable temptation of comparison, such an activity turns into nothing short of misery. In essence, reading becomes a kind of "Keeping up with the Joneses" of the intellectual sort.

Thus, books become expendables. They are a means to an end when viewed in this way. Therefore, what is really cherished is not the books themselves but the knowledge or the appearance of knowledge they provide. I say this as confession, not as judgment to others.

When we realize that the purpose of books is for our delight and growth (something that is ongoing and continual, never accomplished), then we can escape the vanity of such book mastery. We read to be conquered by God's truth contained in literature not to conquer it, for all truth is God's truth and we never really can master it anyway.

In short, the task of reading should be approached as a journey and not a destination. Enjoy it, friends.

Underwear Theology: Why We Should All Be Spandex Wearing Superheroes When it Comes to Doctrine

I've been thinking a lot lately about a saying I have heard used quite a bit in evangelical circles. The saying, often quoted by those wanting to be winsome in the presentation of their faith (read: cool and chic), goes something along the lines of this: "Yes. I believe in that doctrine. But I don't make a big deal about it. Basically, it's kind of like underwear. I believe it, but I don't want others to necessarily see it."

As absurd as this may sound, this expression is really quite revealing when it comes to the popular evangelical opinion about doctrine. Doctrine, like underwear, is something your mom told you to never leave home without, but at the end of the day, does it really matter what KIND of underwear it is? I mean, after all, who is going to see it (that is, unless you are in the proverbial car accident)?

The problem with this kind of thinking, of course, is that it assumes that doctrine is simply a matter of preference. The reason we have Catholics, Methodists, Presbyterians, Baptists, Lutherans and Episcopalians is not so much because of truth but because of taste. In our pluralistic society, who is to say one particular denomination, one particular doctrine, or one particular intepretation is any more right than the other?

But back to underwear. Wanting to wear theology or doctrine like underwear also communicates something about the relationship theology has to Christian living. We were all told (all but the most liberal of professing Christians that is) that we should hold some kind of doctrine, but we don't necessarily want to wave it out for everyone to see. Like underwear, we should should the leave the house wearing it, but not on our heads. This is both because (we are told) doctrine divides and because, when it gets down to it, we do not really believe it matters for everyday living. Thus, most of us keep our underwear, and our theology, out of sight. That is, unless you are one of these guys:

Doctrine...anyone?

That's right. The Man O' Steel, baby. When it comes to our theology, we all should be more like one of these superheroes. No I'm not suggesting we should go out and buy spandex costumes (though for the TR PCA guy, a robe should suffice). What I am saying is that we should not be ashamed of our doctrine because, frankly, doctrine matters. Consider the words of Paul to Timothy:

"11 Command and teach these things. 12 Let no one despise you for your youth, but set the believers an example in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith, in purity. 13 Until I come, devote yourself to the public reading of Scripture, to exhortation, to teaching. 14 Do not neglect the gift you have, which was given you by prophecy when the council of elders laid their hands on you. 15 Practice these things, immerse yourself in them, so that all may see your progress. 16 Keep a close watch on yourself and on the teaching. Persist in this, for by so doing you will save both yourself and your hearers. (1 Timothy 4:11-16, ESV)"

As we can see, for Paul, there was a direct relationship between doctrine, or teaching, and a believer's practice. Theology immediately gave way to piety for the apostle (v.12). There was no dichotomy between the two. To live godly in Christ Jesus, a believer must devote himself to "the public reading of Scripture, to exhortation, to teaching (v.13)." In other words, to doctrine. Further, Paul insisted that doctrine was not some secondary matter of preference but a primary matter with salvific consequences (v.16). Thus, friends, while we may not save anyone out of a burning building with our doctrine, we may save them out of the burning lake.

And that, dear readers, is what it is to be a real superhero.

Biblical Forgiveness: Conditional or Unconditional?

Last night, Katie and I watched a show on PBS called, "Forgiveness: A Time to Love and a Time to Hate." While the program provided an intriguing overview of the varying responses of different communities and individuals to some of the more shocking atrocities of the past fifty years (including the tragic Amish schoolhouse shooting), it became clear early on that the discussion of forgiveness and its antithesis, anger, was not being done through a Biblical framework. I winced as I heard individuals conclude that forgiveness is a kind of cheap grace, and as a woman, whose father was shot more than fifty years ago during an anti-war bank robbery stunt, insisted that she could not forgive her offender because what she did was "not okay." I winced both out of sympathy for the victims' trauma and because of their fundamental misconceptions of forgiveness that their statements revealed. Forgiveness is a distinctly Christian act and it cannot be understood properly apart from the gospel. While on the one hand I identified with the woman being interviewed who scoffed at a quick, easy, unconditional forgiveness as "cheap grace", this is not true forgiveness. True forgiveness is gutsy and costly. In light of this, I would like to offer three things that characterizes Biblical forgiveness as conditional rather than unconditional. I realize that this is a controversial subject on which Christians may disagree. However, I believe that from the imperatives that we have in Scripture, we are to forgive as God has forgiven us and not differently (cf. Ephesians 4:32; Colossians 3:13).

1. Biblical forgiveness takes sin seriously.

A common misconception that was continually perpetuated in the show last night was that forgiveness involved dismissing your offender's sin. This drastically undermines the essence of forgiveness. Forgiveness does not say, "It's okay" or "No big deal" but "It is a big deal. Your sin against me is horrible. But I forgive you anyway." What makes forgiveness so unique, so transcendent, so supernatural is not that it involves ignoring a person's offense but that it involves recognizing the person's offense in all its grotesque ugliness. This act is scandalous to the world. The world can overlook a wrong, excuse sin, or even overlook a person's misdeed, but forgiveness is the heirloom of the church. It is the church as a body of sinners that considers sin in all of its darkness and still forgives. However, the question must be asked: if Biblical forgiveness does not minimize sin, how is such forgiveness still possible?

2. Biblical forgiveness is rooted in the cross. The fundamental condition for Biblical forgiveness is the cross. This is why any attempts to discuss forgiveness apart from a cross-centered perspective will ultimately fail. The reason we forgive is because God forgave us (cf. Ephesians 4:32). He did this by providing his Son as a propitiation for our sins (cf. Romans 3:25). The cross also demonstrates for us that forgiveness is not cheap. It is not without condition. God did not simply dismiss our trespasses against us. Instead, he punished Jesus in our place so that we might be freely accepted and acquitted. Further, because the God of Scripture is a just God who avenged his name that had been dishonored by pouring out his wrath on his Son, we have no need to take revenge. Although righteous anger is an appropriate response to the injustices committed against us, a belief in a just God who satisfied his wrath in Christ on the cross ensures us that all wrongs will be righted. The cross ultimately liberates us to forgive knowing revenge is God's perogative (cf. Deuteronomy 32:35; Romans 12:19). Therefore, from the standpoint of the cross, it is precisely because God has met the condition of justice by placing his Son on the cross that we can forgive others.

3. Biblical forgiveness is conditional. With the cross in mind, we can now see that how we forgive our enemies is not to be different from how God forgives his enemies. Additionally, we do not receive God's forgiveness apart from the condition of repentant faith. The implications of this I believe include the fact that anger is allowed for the believer. The Christian does not just have to respond with a warm fuzzy feeling of forgiveness every time he is wronged. Some offenses will go unforgiven precisely because the offender refuses to recognize his sin. It is for this reason that I think, however well-intentioned, the response to the Nickel Mines shooting was unfounded. Such a forgiveness is fairly criticized as "cheap grace." In contrast though, Biblical forgiveness is a kind of forgiveness which recognizes that even in repentant offenders there are temporal consequences. Biblical forgiveness does not undermine the need for the punitive actions of the state. What this means is that forgiveness is not a virtue in itself but is a virtue in the context of God's demonstration of forgiveness through the cross.

I do not doubt that I may have erred in my limited discussion here of such a difficult topic. Many of you may ardently disagree. Please feel free to respond and show me the point where you take issue.

Google to the Glory of God

Brian Regan. Thomas Jefferson. Aurora Borealis. All three of these share one thing in common. All three are in the top ten list of what is currently trending on google. Our generation is a unique one in that we now have the tools and resources to access information in a way that was not possible for our predecessors. As a result, we are now faced with the indelible dilemma that marks our technologized world: should I learn this? It is an interesting question to consider and one which Christians have sadly ignored. In my own experience, I have found the insatiable urge to search, to discover, to acquire, or in our terms, to google just about everything under the sun. Like Sisyphus, I have gone about this futile task by clicking and reclicking, scrolling and rescrolling only to watch the stone of information fall back, rinse and repeat. And like Sisyphus, such a task is an empty and endless one. "Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher (Ecclesiastes 1:2)."

While we may pretend that our quest to read about "Fifteen Ways to Fry a Turkey" or "The Watergate Scandal" is a noble one, there remains a suspiscion in us that, if we were honest we would admit, causes us to question whether or not we are really filling our minds or simply having our minds filled. The difference, I think, lies in the fact that information does not equal knowledge. Laying aside for the moment that much of our internet habits concern the trivial (how many trinkets Bill Murray has in his basement), even the good information that we obtain if not directed to a proper end is superfluous. This is because true learning does not consist merely in the acquiring of facts but in the renewal of the mind (cf. Romans 12:2). As Paul continues to say in the same passage, the renewal of the mind is so that we can discern the will of the Lord. The implication here is that information is not to be and cannot be processed in isolation from a Christian worldview. All our learning ought to be for the aim of discernment.

In constrast to approaching the discovery of facts as a way of renewing our minds to God's will, I find that often my motives are more self-serving. The reason I google "The History of Dispensationalism" or "Solipsism" more often than not has to do with my desire to master knowledge than a desire to be conformed to God's image. However, the quest for more knowledge, this hunger for omniscience, is folly and can never be sated. Thus, google exists to show that the search for knowledge for knowledge's sake is endless and futile. In our limited capacity, we can never know anything fully, but we can be fully known by our Creator. God does not need google trends to know who we are and what we want. He has our cookies not just of our internet searches but of our lives and that is a history that cannot be deleted. In order to be a wiser steward of the internet in general and google in particular, I have decided to ask myself a few questions with regard to my searches: Why am I looking for this? Could my time be better spent doing something else? Will the information I am seeking lead me to worship Christ more?

Question: What are your thoughts on a good stewardship of google and the related issue of social media sites? What are some of your "cyber sins" and the way in which the internet can become an idol for you?

TERMINAL

"We have discovered some significant abnormalities on the brain." The most frightful statement a doctor can say to a father about his daughter. As many of my readers will know, on Friday December 4th, 2009, my oldest daughter, Karis Elizabeth Almy, was diagnosed with Krabbe Disease, a rare but fatal genetic condition that causes breakdown of the nerves' protective myelin coating and leads to the significant deteoriation of motor skills. A child diagnosed with Infantile Krabbe develops asymptomatically for the first three to four months of life, but then begins to manifest signs of the disease: muscle tone, vomiting, feeding difficulties, irritability, and seizures. The expected lifespan for a child with this particular onset of Krabbe is two years. As you can imagine, Katie and I were devastated and in a state of disbelief when we heard the news. In the moment immediately following Karis' diagnosis, I knew that my belief in the sovereignty of God was going to be tested. It is times like these that we find out if the theology we preach is the theology we practice.

For the first few days after the revelation of our daughter's illness, Katie and I grieved to the point of nausea. After the initial despondency passed, my sadness changed to confusion and then to anger and then eventually to numbness. Throughout the ensuing months, I remained in that state of numbness and wrestled with finding the joy I once had in Christ and in my daughter. I hid from many opportunities to be a father to Karis for fear of the pain that it might bring. I was stuck in a dilemma. If I should spend more time with Karis, would that mean more memories for me to grieve later? However, if Karis' life was shortened, shouldn't I take every opportunity that I had to spend with her now? I was facing questions that no parent ever hopes to face. This month Karis will be 22 months old. Karis continues to battle with Krabbe every day of her life yet the Lord has sustained her health in ways that I did not expect. Since the day she was diagnosed, I have not perfectly trusted in the Lord in the midst of this suffering. Although I have never desired to ask WHY, there has been a desire to ask WHEN. Specifically, when will my daughter be whole? One thing I think we as Christians often forget is that even though God brings good out of illness, even illness of a child, illness itself is not good. This world is fallen and broken and creation yearns for renewal (cf. Romans 8:19). As children of the king, we do not need to escape our suffering through platitudes but we need to endure our suffering through promises. In view of this, I would like to share with you five promises that have encouraged me as I have been a father to a terminally ill child.

1. TERMINAL ILLNESS IS TEMPORARY.

2 Corinthians 4:17 says, "For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison." Of all the glorious promises packed into this verse, one promise that is often overlooked is found in the first half in the phrase "light momentary affliction." No matter how it seems, this pain is temporary. Growing up, there was a cross stitching of Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 in the downstairs bathroom in my house. I can remember reading that portion of Scripture countless times as a child. When I would be going through a difficult time, I can also remember finding comfort in the truth expressed in that passage as well as in my mother's oft-cited aphorism: "This is only a season." Sometimes in the middle of all the heartache that comes with a terminally ill child, it is easy to forget that this pain is temporary. No believer suffers forever. There is coming a time when this too will pass.

2. TERMINAL ILLNESS IS NOT RANDOM.

Undergirding my ability to withstand the severe suffering that comes from knowing my child has a fatal disease is a staunch belief in the sovereignty of God. Nothing less than a robust Calvinism gives me comfort that this disease is not the product of "a genetic mistake" but is designed by God himself. Ephesians 1:11 tells us that God "works all things to the counsel of his will." Additionally, Romans 8:28 reassures believers that "for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose." Nothing that comes to us in this life is unplanned. Realizing that God has determined my daughter's Krabbe disease before she even existed encourages me because I know that this sickness has not appeared in her without purpose. Since it is God who willed it, the purpose must be good. I honestly do not know how any parent could cope with having a sick child without such a lofty view of the sovereignty of God.

3. TERMINAL ILLNESS IS FOR THE GLORY OF GOD.

Without minimizing the intense sorrow that comes from being a father to a terminally ill daughter, I want to insist that it is the glory of God that reminds me that my sorrow is not in vain. Before Jesus arrived in Bethany four days after Lazarus' death, he said, "This illness does not lead to death. It is for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it" (John 11:4). Astonishing words from Jesus especially considering that we are familiar with how Lazarus' illness does lead to his death. The story gets even more confusing when we learn that Jesus himself purposefully plans not to go to Lazarus before he dies by delaying his arrival for two days (v.6). Is this some kind of colossal oversight on the part of Jesus? Why would he not run to Bethany upon notice that his friend is near death? We do not have to wait long for the answer for Jesus tells his disciples in verses 14 and 15: "Lazarus has died and for your sake I am glad that I was not there, so that you may believe." From the rest of the narrative, we read of Jesus' miraculous resurrection of Lazarus from the dead. Often, terminally ill parents wonder why Jesus won't do the same for their child. However, this misses the main point of the passage. The apex of this account does not come in verses 38-44 with Lazarus' mesmerizing resuscitation as he comes stumbling from the tomb (for Lazarus would be raised from the dead only to get sick and die again at a later time), but earlier with Jesus' declaration in verse 25, "I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live." Thus, God is glorified in terminal illness in that he causes us to trust more in his Son who is the resurrection and the life than in any form of temporary healing. Even if Christ is to heal Karis in the here and now, that healing will be short-lived because the morality rate for us all is still 100 percent. She will still eventually suffer from some other sickness that will take her life. Terminal illnesses do not shorten life (God determines the number of our days) but simply remind us of the shortness of life and remove the illusion of safety that comes from good health. Further, God is glorified when we turn from our earthly securities and find our security in him.

4. TERMINAL ILLNESS IS NOT UNIQUE.

It is so easy for the parents of a child with a rare disorder to begin to think that their situation is unique. Especially with a disease like Krabbe that effects only 1 in 100,000 children, it is tempting to thinking that we are alone in this suffering. Even given such statistics, Katie and I have still met other families throughout the U.S. and Canada that have children with Infantile Krabbe. Even more so though, there is a profound sense in which no terminal illness is unique. In a sense, we are all terminally ill (cf. Romans 6:23). The wages of sin is death. The common lot of the children of Adam has been a terminal one. Having this perspective, we can see that our situation is really not that different from a child with a terminal illness. We are born dying. Each of us is racked with a fatal disease called sin and our only hope of rescue is in the grace of Christ. Krabbe disease and the helplessness and desperation it brings is but one picture of this reality.

5. TERMINAL ILLNESS IS NOT TERMINAL.

Because Christ has died and risen again, the doctor's diagnosis is not the final word. 1 Corinthians 15:54b tells us that "death is swallowed up in victory." Even if terminal illness proves to be terminal in this life, we know that the grave is not a period mark and this life is not the last chapter. Jesus Christ has bled and died for our sins and those who trust in him for eternal life will not be disappointed. This hope is not restricted to believers only, but also to their children, even children who cannot express faith (cf. Acts 2:39). The covenantal promise that God extends to the children of believers is not an expression of sentimentalism but an objective truth contained in God's Word (cf. Matthew 19:14; Acts 2:39; 1 Corinthians 7:14). The status of the children of believers as members of God's covenant is firmly cemented in the Bible and is where Katie and I take our hope.

STARTING FROM SCRATCH

This is a new writing endeavor for me. As with my other writing projects, I have had many false starts in approaching my latest ambition. Such is true, I have found, not only of writing but also of life as the Lord often has us go through many "false starts" before starting from scratch again. And yet it is this starting from scratch process that is so intimidating. Nothing is more daunting than the blank page (or blank screen, in this case). The white void has swallowed many a would-be writer.

In regards to blogging specifically, there are two extremes I want to avoid. I do not want this space to become a theological soapbox. While that might be fulfilling for me, I doubt it would benefit others. Further, I do not want this to be an online journal. Narcissism terrifies me. I suppose there is a sense in which all writing is narcissistic. Writing is to the soul what exercise is to the body. There is an inherent self-preservation in both. Additionally, writing involves honesty, which when unrestrained, is a hallmark of narcissism. While writing (good writing at least) must be honest, even brutally honest, it is not a self-serving honesty. Not a I-stayed-in-my-pajamas-until-12-and-watched-MASH-reruns kind of honesty. Benefit to others is what distinguishes honesty from narcissism. To benefit someone other than ourselves, writers aim to be honest without being overly autobiographical. Paradoxically, fiction writers accomplish this through lies. We don't write about our own annoying ticks and short temper but we create characters who share these flaws without being carbon copies of ourselves. In presenting the truth of the absurdity and folly of anger through a fictional character, we are better able to tell the truth about ourselves--either because straight truth is too embarrassing or (more likely) because it is too personal and focused on our own insufficiencies than appealing to the universal human condition. Therefore, fiction writers are trapeze artists walking the tightrope of honesty and lies. Lean too far to the right and risk narcissism. Lean too far to the left and risk irrelevance. In her book Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life , Anne Lamott captures the peril of truth telling in writing, “If something inside of you is real, we will probably find it interesting, and it will probably be universal. So you must risk placing real emotion at the center of your work. Write straight into the emotional center of things. Write toward vulnerability. Risk being unliked. Tell the truth as you understand it. If you’re a writer you have a moral obligation to do this. And it is a revolutionary act—truth is always subversive." And it is this vulnerability that defines the starting from scratch process when all you have is naked rawness.

Of course, not all I attempt to do here will be fiction. I plan on feeding my readership with a steady diet of nonfiction as well. Though a different kind of prose, there is still the risk of exposure involved in nonfiction.

I anticipate that someone will ask me about the title of this blog. It comes from a single line from a single phrase in a Billy Collins poem called "The Only Day in Existence":

The early sun is so pale and shadowy,
I could be looking up at a ghost
in the shape of a window,
a tall, rectangular spirit
looking down at me in bed,
about to demand that I avenge
the murder of my father.
But the morning light is only the first line
in the play of this day--
the only day in existence--
the opening chord of its long song,
or think of what is permeating
the thin bedroom curtains

as the beginning of a lecture
I will listen to until it is dark,
a curious student in a V-neck sweater,
angled into the wooden chair of his life,
ready with notebook and a chewed-up pencil,
quiet as a goldfish in winter,
serious as a compass at sea,
eager to absorb whatever lesson
this damp, overcast Tuesday
has to teach me,
here in the spacious classroom of the world
with its long walls of glass,
its heavy, low-hung ceiling.

After all, isn't each of us a goldfish in winter? Doesn't each day demand this of us? To watch, to be alert, to be attentive. To find the extraordinary in the ordinary. The everyday has these lessons to teach us if we are willing to learn, I believe. Thus, this is what I hope to accomplish on this blog: to be quiet and make observations. In short, to write with beneficial honesty.