Category: Uncategorized

Frightening Thought

> “Darling, has it ever occurred to you that we might be called to stay here?”

> “. . .”

> “It hasn’t occurred to you.”

> “No! I want to live in a place where we can afford to live in a house! Where we could afford to build a house. Where we… why?”

> “Well, it’s just that… if you have any missionary zeal at all, and you know God has called you to the United States, there are only two places to go.”

> “The West coast, and the Northeast.”

> “Yep. The middle part doesn’t need missionaries; they just need evangelists.”

I do have a little missionary zeal in me. I used to imagine how I would go about it if I were called to the Navajo Indians in 1807, or to Hawaii during the Second Great Awakening. But I’m called to minister in America and, except for on reservations and among foreign students, there’s no mission work left to be done. Then again, you should see this place. There are Christians here, and even more people who call themselves Christians, but are “beyond all that.”

So, if you have any missionary zeal at all, and you know you’re called to the Americas, what better place to come than here? I’m hardly saying I know I’m called to stay here (don’t cry for me yet, mother dearest!) but Lord, the fields are white!

Slippery Slope

One of the things that we discussed in my CORE410 Ethics Course at Queens was the subject of euthanasia. I personally think that it’s a form of playing creator when you decide when to die under the guise of escaping suffering. I’m not Buddhist, I don’t think that suffering is the greatest evil. I also think that euthanasia, or physician assisted suicide, is utterly reprehensible and completely against the Hippocratic Oath. I don’t even want to see the convoluted loops that the physicians that support (and perform in places like Oregon and many European Countries) this type of “therapy” put their minds through. This article, however, takes the cake. Most ethical decisions have something called a “slippery slope” where one decision leads to the next in a continuing slide downward from the original decision and circumstances surrounding it. In my opinion, these “doctors” are pretty close to rock bottom.

Their Logo is… No Logo

I like these shirts. Kinda punchy… make a valid point… good stuff. But they only have one message: “We don’t have logos. ” “My body is not a bilboard. ” “This shirt is not selling anything.” Logos bad. No Logo. The name of the company that makes these shirts? [No Sponsor.](http://www.nosponsor.com/products.php)

Can you feel the irony?

What a Word

> The curriculum of the M.Div. degree, therefore, seeks to **[inculcate](http://dictionary.reference.com/wordoftheday/archive/2003/06/23.html)** in students knowledge and ability to …

Inculcate:
To teach and impress by frequent repetition or instruction. Inculcate is from Latin inculcare, “to tread upon, to force upon,” from in-, “in, on” + calcare, “to trample,” from calx, calc-, “heel.”

That is, to inculcate is to grind a concept into somebody, preferably with the heel. Wowsers.

*”Mommy… I don’t wanna be inculcated.”
“Hush child, it’s good for you.”*

Things

What is it about me that is so fixed on *things*?

When I was in high school, there was a time when my whole spiritual life was bound up in worship music. Part of this was because I was part of a group of friends that had formed a mini-culture around worship music as the highest expression of worship or ministry. Forget the low calling of the pastor, we wanted to be true spiritual leaders – worship leaders! But this was only amplified by the fact that I had just discovered a tremendous backlog of high-quality worship recordings, and there was a huge Christian book and music store just down the street. I was so addicted to the stuff that I don’t think I would have really believed you to hear that it was possible to worship God outside some kind of musical expression.

Since worship was solely an expression of adoration in my mind, it seemed to follow that the best form of expression of my love for God would be the most intimate, “powerful” encounter. Ideally, this was simply my own personal expression of “the gratitude and brokenness that comes from intimately knowing almighty God,” but better music obviously makes that kind of heartfelt expression easier, so my approach to worship gradually began to hinge on the quality of the music I was listening to.

In one sense, that was bad, because our worship should never have to depend on externals. In another sense, though, it was kind of fortunate because I had access to so much really good worship music. Insofar as worship *is* adoration, I was worshiping quite a lot, albeit with a sort of crutch. Continue reading “Things”

I’m Daft at Medicine, or Why I Don’t Do Drugs.

Valerie has accused me, on occasion, of being against doctors. This is a grave and serious crime for someone who is marrying a person who wants to **be** a doctor. I have assured her that this is not the case. The problem is not that I don’t like doctors, it’s that I’m not very good at the physical realm. Give me metaphysics any day. I’m very inclined to be one of those Manichaen types who call the physical bad, the spiritual good, and have done with it. Alas that I am addicted to truth and know that it cannot be so. God created the physical realm, and called it good, and it has ever been so. Nevertheless, I’m not good *at* the physical realm.

I am, however, decent in economics, and I hate the insurance industry. By my keen understanding, it looks more like a cartel than an industry to me. Case in point: It’s my understanding that my place of work pays an average of about $15,000 per year per employee for medical benefits. What we have is supposed to be really good coverage. I couldn’t tell you the difference. But I can tell you that $15 K is 60% of my wages. I’m getting married in 2 months. I’d love to take a gamble have them give me half of that $15,000 and waive the insurance. I’m not at risk for cancer or heart disease. Seven thousand dollars would be a lot more useful to me than to visit a well-paid man in a white coat so he can tell me I’m not sick.

I did visit the nice man in the white coat, by the way Continue reading “I’m Daft at Medicine, or Why I Don’t Do Drugs.”