A Week Without Social Media – A Review

Last Friday I made a radical, and some might add, too hasty decision. I had spent a sleepless night fretting over an argument I was having with someone I don’t even know regarding an issue that neither one of us had any inkling of the truth of the matter. Now, stop and think about that. We did not know each other. We were both making assertions the other thought was wrong. And, in perfect honesty – neither one of us was in a position to know any of the facts of the case. All we had was some quotes and a lot – I mean A LOT – of speculation and incendiary accusations.

When I finally woke up on Friday I thought – phooey with this. Why am I losing sleep over an event like this? So when I got to my office the first thing I did was to deactivate my accounts with Facebook and Twitter. I still have one “social media” account, but I have to admit it is about as useless as it can be. But it doesn’t cause my blood pressure to go ballistic, so I’m keeping it for a while.

Anyway, what I was getting to was this – here are some reactions to a week without Facebook and Twitter.

  • I really, really miss some aspects of Facebook. FB was how I kept up with many of my friends and professional acquaintances. That was how I learned about their joys and their hurts – and got to see some pretty hysterical pictures of pets. Cutting off all of that is pretty disorienting. I wonder if anyone is missing me – but that in and of itself reveals that much of my social media interaction was all about ME, so maybe God was letting me know how selfish I was becoming.
  • On the other hand, I do not miss the political posturing and hate memes at all. I had friends that were all over the political spectrum, and it was pretty distressing to see the vitriol expressed by people who I knew to be good and thoughtful friends. I could not care less who they supported or what issue they hated, but their FB posts made it impossible for me to keep up with them and avoid the drama. I know there was the “unfollow” and “unfriend” options, but then how was I to keep up with them?
  • Twitter, on the other hand, has become a garbage dump. I realized at one point that I was following certain persons – leaders within the Church of Christ with a large following of both real and “internet” persons – who were posting comments that were blatantly unchristian would have infuriated Jesus. They were not just border-line comments that could be excused as opinions or feelings – they were outright scandalous in nature and revealed the most bitter and hateful heart. I now have zero respect for those leaders, and I even question those who support them.
  • I have realized that I am going to pay a pretty steep price for deactivating my accounts. A purely tangential benefit of my FB and Twitter accounts was that I was able to keep up with the newest books and trends in theology. In the past week I feel like I have just had my left hand amputated. Somehow I will need to figure out how to stay abreast of this information via other sources. I just have to find those sources.
  • Another price to be paid – FB and Twitter were two avenues that I used to broadcast my blog posts. Now millions of my devoted readers are bereft of my profundity. “Meaningless, meaningless, everything is vanity and a chasing after the wind.”
  • You might be tempted to argue with me that all I have to do is to focus on the good and ignore the bad. The only problem is – FB and Twitter posts were created for the very specific purpose of NOT being ignored. No one posts a meme or tweet and then says, “boy, I sure hope no one pays attention to what I just said!” That is the big lie of social media. You can’t argue, “it’s just my opinion, get over it.” When you disparage a public figure, when you blindly accuse someone of murder, when you post bitter, hurtful words that are clearly intended to cause someone else to hate what you hate, you cannot just say, “I’m entitled to my opinion.” You may be – according to the US Constitution. But since when is being legal being right? Since when were the words of Jesus rescinded – “By your words you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned.” When was it that Jesus retracted his statement that the two greatest commands were to love God with all our heart, soul, and mind, and the second greatest command was to love others as we love ourselves? If we would not physically treat someone with such disrespect if they were in front of us (and with Jesus standing nearby), why do we think we can get away with treating that person shamefully just because we are “anonymous” on social platforms like FB and Twitter? I confess – I have stooped to the very behavior I am condemning, and it is primarily for that very reason that I deactivated my accounts. “If your FB or Twitter feed causes you to sin – CUT IT OFF!”

I won’t lie and say the past week has been easy. On way more than one occasion I have been tempted to restore my accounts “and just listen,” but then I realize my self-control when it comes to “just listening” is about as useful as putting up a stop sign in front of a hurricane. My FB and Twitter accounts were changing me – and I assure it it was not for the better. You can only drink poison for so long before it takes its effect. I know there are many good things about FB, less so about Twitter. But sometimes you have to put up barriers around your spiritual life to protect that which is the most important to you.

On the positive side, some of my guitars have seen the outside of their cases for the first time in months . . .

I Don’t Get It (Church Division)

I have often said, and now once again confess, that I am not the sharpest bulb in the drawer, or the brightest blade in the box. There are many things about which I am confused, and when someone explains them to me I want to say, “Duh, why didn’t I think of that?” So, the following conundrum may not be a problem to you at all. But for me, well, I’m stuck . . .

The problem to which I refer was illustrated by a recent conversation when, in a room full of individuals representing many different churches, a person said, “We are all Christians, we may have different labels, but we all believe the same thing, believe in the same God, believe in Jesus.” To which I thought to myself, “Um, no we don’t.”

You see, in my limited intellectual capacity, you either believe something or you don’t. If you believe something, it is important to you and you are at least willing to defend it as a personal belief, or you are willing to discuss your belief in the hopes of arriving at a better belief. Let me state a necessary deduction to my way of looking at the world:

Those who claim that all “Christians” believe the same thing and are simply divided by different “labels” are either (a) ignorant or ambivalent about the beliefs of their own church or are (b) ignorant about the beliefs of other churches or (c) are of the opinion that said beliefs are totally irrelevant.

If you hold position (c), then my only question is why do you affirm any of your current beliefs? If such beliefs are irrelevant, then it seems to me you would discard those beliefs and accept the beliefs of other who are utterly and totally convinced of the importance, and correctness, of their beliefs. So, let’s look at positions (a) and (b), which are really just two sides of the same coin.

To be as honest as I can, and to be as gentle as I can and still be clear, it is simply impossible for followers of Roman Catholicism, Lutheranism, Calvinism, and various other stripes of free church theology, to be “united” in any realistic sense of the word. For example –

If you are a Roman Catholic, and you firmly believe in such dogmas as Papal infallibility, apostolic succession, transubstantiation (and its related dogmas), the veneration/adoration/worship of Mary (and the perpetual virginity of Mary as well), then it is simply impossible for you to be “united” with those of us who reject those dogmas. Those doctrines are not just incidental to the Catholic faith – they are what makes Roman Catholics what they are. If you reject Papal infallibility, if you reject transubstantiation, if you reject any kind of special place for Mary – well, it is very difficult for you to consider yourself a Roman Catholic. And if I reject those doctrines, how can you say you are in fellowship with me?

Likewise with Lutherans – if you  hold to consubstantiation, if you hold to the doctrine of “faith only,” if you defend infant baptism, then I would suggest it should be impossible for you to consider that a Roman Catholic on one side or me on the other would be faithful Christians. The Catholic should (if he/she is being true to Catholic doctrine) reject the idea of “faith only,” as do I, for entirely different reasons. The Roman Catholic and I both believe we are saved by faith, but I flatly reject (and I have reason to believe the Roman Catholic would too) the addition of the word “only.” Martin Luther added it to Paul’s teaching in Ephesians (and elsewhere) and in so doing completely changed the meaning of the text.

Calvinists (and all their permutations in the Presbyterian and some Baptist churches) are in more of a pickle than Lutherans, in my opinion. If you hold to the traditional TULIP explanation of Calvinism (Total depravity, Unconditional Election, Limited Atonement, Irresistible Grace, and Perseverance of the Saints) then I am so far away from being a Christian as to be an atheist – I reject every one of those doctrines. But, if you reject any one of those teachings, the house of Calvin folds like a wet paper bag. You cannot hold to total depravity and reject irresistible grace. You cannot believe in unconditional election and reject the idea of limited atonement. In other words, to be consistent, you have to hold all of these concepts in a tight bundle, or your concept of Christianity comes unraveled. I would certainly not be in the “family” as it were.

The point I am trying to make is that when someone makes a statement like, “All Christians believe the same thing and we are all saved by Christ and the only thing that makes us different is our different names,” they either are woefully ignorant of the differences they claim are unimportant, or they do not really believe the fundamental tenets of their respective church.

If you believe that Christ is sacrificed every time the priest blesses and elevates the host, if you believe that Christ’s body is physically present in some form in the elements of the Lord’s Supper, if you believe that an infant needs to be baptized and receives the forgiveness of “original sin,” if you believe that a person is born to eternal salvation and someone is born to eternal damnation – then I suggest that you and I have very little in common except some generic teachings of a wandering rabbi who lived approximately 30 years before the final destruction of the Jewish temple. Jesus then becomes a more pious Plato or Aristotle. If you think that those distinctions are merely “opinions,” then I suggest you need to reject those opinions, because it is those “opinions” that are the main sources of division between churches who claim the name Christ.

I also want to make another point very clear – some of my favorite authors and “mentors” (in an impersonal sense) hold Roman Catholic, Lutheran or Reformed (Calvinistic) beliefs. When I want to learn more about the spiritual disciplines I find that more often than not I am drawn to Roman Catholic authors (or, Anabaptist writers). When I want to learn more about the Old Testament, chances are I will end up with a Presbyterian or Anglican author. If I had to get rid of every book in my library except for one author, I would keep my collected works of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a Lutheran and someone to whom I am deeply indebted for my understanding of what it means to be a Christian. So, am I making a blanket condemnation of those who hold these various doctrines? No, I hope not – that is not my intention. My only goal in this little exercise in rambling incoherence is to point out that despite our best intentions, and regardless of what sweet sounding words we may use, if we truly hold to the major confessions of our faiths, we are NOT united as Christians.

I freely confess – I am a child of the Restoration Movement and I am convinced that if disciples of Christ would simply return to the teachings “once for all” delivered to the saints (and in my world that would be Genesis-Revelation), then we could call ourselves united. Then there would be differences of opinion (types of worship, perhaps, other truly incidental and transitory questions), but we could at least convey to the world that we are united on the very basic core of our Christian beliefs.

Maybe someone can explain to me how people who hold diametrically opposing viewpoints can be said to be one united faith, but until someone does, I just don’t get it.

9/11 – 17 Years Later and We Still Have Not Learned

Every anniversary of 9/11/01 is difficult for me. I was a pilot that day, in the air as those two planes were used as missiles to strike the World Trade Center towers one and two. To this day I get queasy as I relive the events of that day and the days following. I remember as if it was yesterday taking off and flying back to my hometown a few days later. Never before or since have  I experienced such conflicted feelings.

That was going to be the topic for this post, but another, much more recent event, has brought all of those feelings back to me, albeit in a much different manner. As I write this (9/11/18), it has been less than a week since a young man was shot and killed by a police woman who, according to her story, mistakenly entered his apartment thinking it was hers. The young man was my brother in Christ, according to all who knew him he was a great disciple of Christ. The young police woman was also highly respected by her peers, earning the right to become a part of a special unit to combat crime in her city.

This is a tragedy of epic proportions. There simply is no good way for this to be resolved. Botham Jean will never be brought back to life. The young officer will always have to deal with the fact that she took an innocent life. It simply does not matter at this point if she is convicted of a crime or not. If she was a conscientious officer – and by all accounts she was – this event will traumatize her for the rest of her life. It should.

Seventeen years ago we learned what hate can do to a country. It is obvious as I read what people are saying about this tragedy in Dallas, that we have not learned a damned thing about hate. And for those of you who wonder, yes, I thought long and hard about using that adjective. There is nothing about hate that is not damnable and damned. And, those of us who hate will share in that damnation.

When I told my wife about the events, her response was that she hoped the young man was not black. He was. She said she hoped the police woman was not white. She is. Those two facts are apparently all that some people need to know. People of another race are to be hated. Police are to be hated. Hate, hate, hate.

I do not want to suggest that the officer is not guilty of a horrendous crime. At the very least she is guilty of a gross negligence that deserves some penalty. I am simply not competent enough to know all the laws of Texas and to know what punishment is appropriate for her crime. She is guilty of taking an innocent human life, in his own apartment, where he should have felt the most safe.

But as I write this – less than a week after the events unfolded – there simply has not been enough facts of the story released for ANYONE to know what happened, except, of course, the officer. So much misinformation has been distributed as to make any decent understanding of that night almost impossible. Some claim there was a verbal exchange between Botham and the officer. There was at least one report that she was returning home after a fifteen hour shift. True? False? We as the general public simply have no way of knowing for sure.

One response that I have seen from a number of people is that, because the officer was off duty, she was no longer a “police officer” and should not be accorded any of the protections that come with her position. I simply want to ask: at what point does a person cease to fulfill his or her occupation? Does a doctor cease to be a doctor when he or she leaves the hospital? If he or she were to come upon a person in distress or having been wounded does the doctor say, “I’m sorry, I clocked out – I’m not a doctor anymore?” Does a fireman simply walk away from a burning house with the excuse that, “My shift is over – I’m not a fireman now”? A police officer, especially in uniform, is a police officer. In the event of an emergency, if a person is in distress, if there is a crime being committed, that officer is bound by their oath to respond. To suggest that the officer not receive the protections also afforded to those who put their lives at risk every day is simply absurd – and full of hate. Yes, she is also thereby held to a higher standard – especially when it comes to drawing her weapon. Is she to be exonerated simply because she wears a badge? Absolutely not! But as I understand the situation, the Texas Rangers have handled her case with all due respect and dignity. They did recommend charges be brought against the officer while carefully investigating her story. That should be enough – but apparently it is not.

I have been deeply touched by the response of the family. Botham’s mother has been the picture of grace – extending forgiveness to the officer while at the same time demanding answers for the death of her son. On the other hand, the interjection of lawyers has inflamed an already emotional situation, and the charges of racism have roiled the city. This was not, and is not, a question of racism. It is a deeply disturbing example of human weakness, even recklessness, that resulted in the death of an innocent man. As a city, as a state, as a nation, we need answers. As the grieving mother has stated – there are just far more questions than answers at this point, and that has to be almost impossible for the family to bear.

As I drove to work this morning I noticed that both sides of the main road of my little town were lined with American flags. I almost had to pull over (and probably should have) because of the tears in my eyes. I remember so clearly why those flags are out today.

Hate.

Seventeen years later we have not learned a thing about hate. We have a president who spews hate with every word he utters. We have a ruling congress that views each little opposing (D) or (R) as a symbol of execration. We have a culture in which polite discussion has ceased to exist, and in it place all we have is blind and deaf shrieking and screaming.

A sensible person would think, on this day of remembrance of one of the most horrific examples of evil this world has seen, that we as a civilized culture could put down our weapons long enough to realize the catastrophic end of a culture founded on hate. An eye for an eye works only until everyone is blind.

Jesus died because of hate. Our hate. Our hatred of God, our hatred of each other, our hatred of ourselves. If there is a symbol of hate that we should all recognize it is the cross.

It is not insignificant, then, that one of the last things Jesus said while hanging on that cross was, “Father, forgive them . . .” Jesus was nailed to the outside of the cross – he never let the hatred get inside of him.

Just a question – If Christ fills our heart – where is there room for hate?

God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

Walking With a Limp

This past weekend was an unhappy anniversary for me. It was one year ago that I broke the femur bone in my right leg. The next day I had surgery, and a titanium rod was inserted inside the bone. I did not know the extent of the surgery, and still to this day have many questions, but the surgery led to two weeks in the hospital followed by a week in a rehab hospital, followed by weeks of physical therapy. The surgeon told me it would be a year before I felt good as new again – and so far he came close, but I am wondering if I will ever feel “as good as new.” I do not experience constant pain (although sometimes my leg lets me know it is through cooperating!), but I think there was some other damage to my leg, as I have very little lateral strength in my knee joint. Although it is not as pronounced as it once was, I still walk with a limp.

I feel somewhat peevish complaining about my little limp. Just call me the wimp with the limp. My wife battled cancer, and has had much more to deal with than me, and I know a number of other people who have to battle severe pain each and every day of their lives. My battle is with a mole hill compared to their mountains. Still, just over a year ago I walked just fine, and today I walk with a limp. I fear I always will.

I am reminded of Jacob who wrestled with God and had a dislocated hip joint to prove it. He always walked with a limp to remind him of his struggle with God. Why did God not just heal the wound after the lesson was learned? The apostle Paul was blessed with a “thorn in his side” to convey the message that God’s grace was sufficient for him. Why did God not remove the thorn after the lesson was learned? It is not like Paul was ignorant or anything – I think he would have remembered the thorn, and what a great object lesson had the thorn been removed.

Jacob had to walk with a limp. Paul had to feel the “thorn in his side” regardless of how many times he prayed to have it removed.

My limp was not caused by wrestling with an angel, or as a result of being called into the third heaven. But I have learned some lessons during the year that I was confined to a wheelchair, hobbled on a walker, cripped along with a cane, and now get along with only a knee brace in the most stressful of situations. Mostly, I have learned that my little limp is hardly something to complain about when compared to cancer patients struggling with chemotherapy or arthritis patients just struggling to get out of bed every morning.

I wish I did not have my limp. I wish it would go away. I wish I could be “whole” again just as I was on August 1, 2017. But I’m not, and it won’t. What I can be is thankful that I have two legs, that I have my wife who is a cancer survivor, and that I can greet the morning sun each day.

I think walking with a limp is a pretty small price to pay for all of God’s other blessings in my life. And I apologize for so often making it sound so much bigger than it really is.

Rocky Mountain High

He was born in the summer of his 27th year, coming home to a place he’d never been before . . . (John Denver, Rocky Mountain High)

In July of 1989, at the ripe old age of 27, we duplicated part of John Denver’s experience as my wife and I made the pilgrimage to Monte Vista, Colorado to begin our first full-time ministry as the “pulpit minister” and wife for a church family. We stayed in Monte Vista for six years – years that included some great accomplishments and some crushing defeats. It was a formational experience for us, and one that we have never forgotten. This past week we were invited to return to the San Luis Valley, this time to the neighboring city of Alamosa, to begin work with another congregation of the Lord’s people. While it will not be a perfect “homecoming” as such, for us it means the answer to many prayers, and maybe, just maybe, the reality of many dreams.

Leaving one ministry to begin another is full of bitter-sweet emotions. Leaving our current ministry in Belen, NM, will be difficult for many reasons. This congregation has stood beside us during one of life’s most difficult situations – the diagnosis and treatment of my wife’s cancer. They have proved themselves servants in many, many ways. Beyond our work with the congregation here, I was able to assist my sister during a difficult time in our lives as well. My wife said it first, but I firmly believe it as well,  God put us here in this place and at this time for a reason. We can see some aspects of why he might have moved us to Belen, and I am sure that as time progresses we will be able to see other reasons as well. Our prayer is that our service will come to be seen as just as valuable to others as their service has been to us. We thank this congregation more deeply than they will ever know.

On the sweet side – even though I am a proud New Mexico native, and my wife is a fierce Texas native, we discovered a mutual home in Colorado – a place that we can call our “together” home. Our ministry in Monte Vista proved to be the longest place of residence that my wife had experienced to that point in her life. We learned the value of a church “family” in Monte Vista, an experience that has shaped us to this very day. We pray that our return will be just as valuable to our new church family as it was almost three decades ago.

We will return to a different city in a much different time. While we are familiar with the general surroundings, there is much to learn about our new home and congregation. It will be a challenge – of that there can be no mistake. But we are excited about the possibilities and we earnestly pray that we are entering this venture with our eyes wide open.

While the congregation we are moving to work with is slightly larger than our current congregation, it appears that I will have to become somewhat of a “vocational minister” at least for a short time in order to provide for some permanent housing as well as get rid of a pesky school loan. I am more than happy to do so – it will help me get to know the community much more quickly. Please pray that I can find a position quickly, one that is especially suited for an old geezer with a bum leg.

* * *

(I interrupt this announcement for a crass commercial break)

Related to this move I would like to make a public appeal. Many of those who follow this blog (or just read it occasionally) are members of churches of Christ, and perhaps you are looking for opportunities for mission support. Because of a number of unfortunate events in our lives (my wife’s cancer, and my indescribably brilliant prowess at the ice skating rink which resulted in a broken leg, three weeks in the hospital, and weeks of physical therapy), we cannot afford to make this move without some financial assistance. We are not seeking long term support – but we do need some immediate help in the expenses related to moving: rental deposits, moving truck, deposits to set up utilities, registering vehicles – the list becomes ponderous. If you, or your congregation, or any group that you might be a part of, would like to assist us in this move, please comment here to this blog and let me know how I can contact you. I will provide as much information as I can regarding our needs. If you cannot help financially, you can pray for our move, for the congregation in Alamosa, and our spiritual family here in Belen who will be looking for a family to take our place.

[To a number of very special followers of this blog – you either supported us financially during our crises, or you continue to do so even now. Know that we are deeply appreciative of your support, and your gifts are presented as sweet sacrifices to our Father in heaven. You know who you are, and we know who you are and our Father knows who you are and what you are doing. Please understand this appeal does not minimize your contributions – and if you so desire, I can provide you with a detailed list of what we can anticipate needing over the next few months.]

(I now return to my regularly scheduled blog)

We originally thought we would be making this transition over two years ago, and had that occurred we would have been moving to Colorado during both our 27th and 54th years – sort of a poetic parentheses to our lives. God had another time-line in mind, and we trust in his timing, not ours. We will be coming home for a second time – to a place we have known before but full of new things and people and challenges and blessings to experience. We ask for your prayers, both for us and for our new ministry.

Rocky Mountain High, Colorado!

God Made Her Good, and Holy, and Beautiful

I get inspiration to write from some of the weirdest places. Yesterday at the gym the owner replaced the usual vile, obnoxious, heavy-metal acid rock with a country track. Eeesh. I knew the obnoxious, heavy-metal, acid rock would not be worth listening to (the lyrics, when you can understand them, are vile!), but I guess I have not listened to obnoxious, heavy-metal, acid country in a while. If it were not for red-neck cowboys trying to get into the pants of red-neck cowgirls, there would be no country music today. Which, got me thinking . . .

I am the father of a daughter. I love my daughter more than I can describe. I would sacrifice anything to know that she was safe. When we first got married, I told my wife I wanted a little girl. She wanted several children, and I told her that was okay, as long as she made sure at least one was a little girl (I was not an “A” student in biology). Well, the “several” part did not work out, but we have the sweetest, the most awesome, young lady I could ever hope for.

As she grows, I grow more terrified for her. I cannot even begin to imagine how difficult it is for a young woman to grow up with a healthy, Christian self-image today. Virtually everything is working against her.

On the right hand is the pure, unadulterated misogyny from men – the idea that women are only here for their pleasure, mere objects of sex. This is what bothered me about the country trash music I was forced to deal with while lifting weights. It is bad enough for men to have to hear that garbage – but what is the message for young women? “She thinks my tractor’s sexy!” Really?? Are you kidding me? All she wants to do is crawl up in your pickup with a case of beer? Then you must have a really low view of what “she” wants. The bad thing about country music is you CAN hear and understand the lyrics. Even when you don’t want to. And, seriously, I don’t want my daughter to understand those lyrics.

On the left we have the spewing forth of the radical feminists, those women who hate being women. They despise their gender, they see only weakness and frailty. They are just as misogynistic as the men, but in an entirely different way. They want to be everything that a man is, and they utterly despise the fact that biology has made that impossible. The funny thing is, these radical feminists hate men too. They hate men because they want everything that a man has, and their envy has turned into self-loathing.

This is true even in the church today! We have women telling little girls that they can be everything that a man is, that they can do everything that a man can do – they can be a man! What is a little girl to think? That being a woman is bad? Why do they have to focus on wanting to be like a man, or even worse, to be a man? Is biblical womanhood a disease?

I am obviously a male, so in one sense I am the wrong gender to be writing this. This really needs to come from a woman, and thankfully there are women who are standing up and pushing back against this anti-female tirade. We need many, many, more. We need women who recognize the awesomeness of being female – of the power to conceive, the power to nurture and then to bear new life, the power to nurse that little life, and the power to see, feel, remember and to comprehend all of life in ways that a man cannot even begin to experience. God created females with the most incredible psychological, mental, and physical powers and abilities. God created females with gifts that so far transcend their male counterparts that it defies description. When God created a woman, he created her good, and holy, and beautiful – in the Genesis account she was the last, the pinnacle of God’s creation. Why are we so intent on destroying that image?

I was a flight instructor for approximately 4 years, give or take a couple of months. I witnessed the male/female dichotomy up close and personal in a unique circumstance. I can tell you with no hesitation whatsoever that men and women are gifted in entirely different ways – even in the identical position of flying airplanes. There is an adage in aviation that speaks far more wisdom than is apparent on the surface: men are better at getting themselves out of a bad situation; women are far better at never getting themselves into that situation to begin with. Ponder that for a while.

As I said, I am a male. God has gifted me to do some things that I can do fairly well simply because of my biological “construction.” But, he also tasked me to do some things that I do not do very well at all because of the sin that afflicts every human being. God created my wife, and my daughter, to accomplish some tasks that they do very well because of their biological “construction.” As I mentioned above, women are just light years ahead of men in terms of intuition, feelings, and processing complex issues as a whole. I focus like a laser on one issue – my wife sees the whole picture. I would be so lost without her. But, women were tasked to do some things that they do not accomplish very well because of the sin that afflicts all human beings. That which makes females strong can also be their “Achilles heel.”

I find it interesting, and profoundly instructive, that the apostle Paul speaks of the sin of Eve in contexts where he is discussing the differences between male and female, but when he is speaking theologically – in terms of the nature of sin itself – he puts the fall of mankind squarely on the shoulders of Adam (and, this is clear because he compares the male Adam with the male Jesus). Eve tempted her husband to sin, and Adam’s sin caused the fall of mankind. Cogitate on that for a spell.

One of the ways that our culture, and even our churches, are rebelling against God today is with the rejection of the gifts of being male or female. One way we stand over Scripture, and over against God, is when we place a higher level of authority on science or psychology to define what it means to be a Christian man or woman. When we tell our daughters that she can “do anything a man can do” or that “she can be just like a man” we are giving her the most insidious message – that being a woman is not good enough, that she was created as some lower life being. I cannot think of a more devastating message to give a daughter of God.

I do not want my daughter to be just like me. I do not want my daughter to think that she can do everything a man can do – why would she want to take that step down? God created her as the most precious of all his creations.

Despite what this world is telling her, I want my daughter to know that God made her good, and holy, and beautiful, and no one can ever take that away from her.

June 6, 1944

There is a beautiful phrase in the book of Hebrews, tucked neatly in the author’s paean to those heroes of faith so vast that he could not name them. He wrote, as the section drew to its close, “. . . of whom the world was not worthy.”

On this, the anniversary of the great allied invasion of Normandy, I cannot help but meditate on that phrase.

I think of the thousands of young lives lost that day – American, British, Canadian (and others) – on the sea and in the air. I think of their resolute composure. They were not fearless – but they overcame their fear with the realization that their mission, what they were tasked to do, was so much more honorable than the goal of their enemy that they set aside their fear in order to meet the challenge.

“. . . of whom the world was not worthy.”

I think of the commanders, those in the field and those well behind the lines. They knew the losses would be catastrophic. Maybe they were not fully aware of the carnage that would meet the Americans on Utah beach, but they knew General Rommel was in charge of the defenses. I cannot imagine the weight that rests upon the shoulders of a man who must send other men into the face of withering gun fire or anti-aircraft shells. I wonder about their conscience. They were tasked with a mission, and the mission would cost lives. Many lives. What goes through the mind of a man who looks into the eyes of young men who, within a few short hours, will offer the greatest sacrifice?

“. . . of whom the world was not worthy.”

I think of the medics and the chaplains who tried to save the wounded and who gave comfort to the dying. What do you say to a young boy from Kansas who, up until a few days ago, had never seen an ocean and now, thousands of miles away from home, will never see another wheat field? How do you give spiritual comfort in a battlefield that resembles the mouth of hell?

“. . . of whom the world was not worthy.”

I think of those who piloted the transport craft ferrying the soldiers to the beaches, and the airplane pilots who carried the paratroopers over the drop zones. Many of them would not survive either. The C-47 drop planes were supposed to bring their planes over the drop zones at 1,000 feet. For those who do not understand, in terms of firing anti-aircraft guns 1,000 feet is the equivalent of a knife fight. Yet, many would make the same trip, over water and through the air, ferrying soldiers, retrieving wounded, and dropping supplies.

“. . . of whom the world was not worthy.”

I question whether the United States could win another such war. I do not doubt our soldiers and sailors one little bit. I stand in awe of their willingness to serve, even if I deeply question the civilian commanders who blindly and stupidly send them into battle. But I simply do not believe in the moral fabric of our American culture anymore. We are a nation of narcissists and cowards. We hide behind our “rights” and our “freedoms” and we no longer have the strength as a people to shoulder our responsibilities. A pathetic little coward who cannot even stand on two feet during the playing of the national anthem is regarded as being “brave” and a “hero” by many. His disrespect for those who have served this country and have given him the freedom to spout his hatred is beyond repugnant – but such is the time in which we live.

Cowardice is called bravery, hatred is called love; respect is called bigotry.

When the United States collapses (when, not if), will we look back on those young men who gave their lives on June 6, 1944 as the high point of our civilization?

“. . . of whom the world was not worthy.”

I try to honor the sacrifice of those young men every day, by living according to the highest standards given to us in Scripture. I know I fail all too often – but their memory still haunts me.

May we all aspire to live lives worthy of their sacrifice. May their deaths not be in vain.