Comic Relief

I did some figuring today and realized that by this Friday, I will have seen seven (VII) different doctors in the last month for everything from my eyes to my feet. My wife and I both have writer's cramp in our hands from filling out form after form. (Who is this Hippa person anyway?) I'm glad to have all these checks, but I've got to space them out more! I now have the most of the easy listening music as well as the morning talk show programs rolling around in my head, followed by the voice of Judy Tenuta yelling, "Boy, gettin' cured will kill ya!" I think this is the most unique side-effect of the medications that I've experienced...so far, anyway.

In honor of, or perhaps because of, all these doctors, I'm putting on some much-needed comic relief. I now present (via YouTube) Tim Conway and Harvey Corman in The Dentist Sketch.

Using the Wrong Compass

Would you let your kids visit a site that offers them their own personal familiar spirit based on a creature of nature and they called it a "daemon?" What if they made a movie about it? What if in the end of the stories it told that the children killed God and did as they chose?

The stories I'm talking about are part of a series called His Dark Materials and the movie is called The Golden Compass. The author, Phillip Pullman set out to literally invert Milton's Paradise Lost by becoming one of those on the side of darkness. He creates a strawman of God by making him a feeble old angel and his church to be the real center of evil power needing to be overthrown.

Although Pullman has taken exception to it, his trilogy is compared as the antithesis to The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis. Pullman levels charges at Lewis, finding him contemptible. Pullman also lumps God with all religions, an error committed by most atheists, and judges the church a corrupt and repressive regime.

New Line Cinema is producing the film, the same that produced The Lord of the Rings trilogy. My admiration for producing such a work based on Tolkien's books is now turned to revulsion for producing Pullman's gnostic daemons. Don't expect me to buy any of New Line's work for a while unless they drop the film.

Pullman's strawman Authority (by any other name) is no match for my very real God Who created the heavens and the earth. The same God who created us gave us brains for seeing through strawmen and for grasping the laws--natural and spiritual--that He created. While Pullman would say that God's laws are repressive and harmful, I have found the opposite to be true. God's laws, like those of any good parent, are to help us avoid injury and stay in fellowship with him and with each other. Anything else is simply fantasy.

Pullman is one of the people that Peter wrote to us about, warning that their claims of special knowledge and real truth are empty and self-destructive. Why have anything to do with them? Know the truth: God made you and He loves you as His child. There is nothing better than to accept His offer of a redeemed, full relationship with Him and eternal life, enjoying that relationship and his creative beauty forever. The Bible is the true golden Compass. It is not any special interpretation of the truth by one man, but a letter written through many hands by the same God. It will be a great day (hopefully not the last day) when Pullman wakes up to that reality.

Those Divine demands which sound to our natural ears most like those of a despot and least like those of a lover, in fact marshal us where we should want to go if we knew what we wanted. He demands our worship, our obedience, our prostration. Do we suppose that they can do Him any good, or fear, like the chorus in Milton, that human irreverence can bring about ‘His glory’s dimunition’? A man can no more diminish God’s glory be refusing to worship Him than a lunatic can put out the sun by scribbling the word ‘darkness’ on the walls of his cell. But God wills our good, and our good is to love Him…and to love Him we must know Him: and if we know Him, we shall in fact fall on our faces. If we do not, that only shows that what we are trying to love is not yet God — though it may be the nearest approximation to God which our thought and fantasy can attain. Yet the call is not only to prostration and awe; it is to a reflection of the Divine life, a creaturely participation in the Divine attributes which is far beyond our present desires. We are bidden to ‘put on Christ’, to become like God. That is, whether we like it or not, God intends to give us what we need, not what we now think we want. Once more, we are embarrassed by the intolerable compliment, by too much love, not too little.

- C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain

Tia from HomeschoolBlogger.com wrote about this a few days ago. The comments alone are worth your time.

A Short Update

Can't say too much about today. I had a scope procedure done this morning. Everything went fine. But I am really tired.

Soaring In The Mountains

It’s hard to believe that Christmas is only two months away. With today’s high in the mid 70s, the snow we had a few days ago now seems like a distant memory. Ten years ago from today, we were engulfed in one of the biggest blizzards of my life, one seldom seen even in Colorado. I remember surprising my 8 year-old niece by grabbing her and throwing her through the air into the freshly fallen 4 feet of snow. She loved it! It hurt my back to do it, but she convinced me to do it twice more. Today, doing that would put me out of commission for a few weeks. I can’t wait to get to heaven and have a new body with which to do things like that. I believe there will be snow in heaven. It wouldn’t be perfect without it.

Before my disability, I used to love to ski. My favorite runs were the long, groomed cruisers where any speed was possible, but carving long turns gave you the thrill of controlling your speed just enough to know you were skiing within your limits. I’ve never skied on parabolics (mostly because they’re so new), but I get the feeling I would love them. Skiing gave me the feeling of riding the wind, of flying. It was gravity with all the perks. Schussing down a mountain with all the speed of a bird and the grace of an ice skater was something that made life worth it all.

It’s why people spend so much on lift tickets, skis, poles and other gear. It’s being able to slip out of your world and into one filled with soaring and sweeping turns, amazing speed and the occasional jump when you’re feeling fearless. I may not be able to do it now, but I did it then…and I’ll do it again in heaven!

Rockies In Boston on Fox...Worth Watching?

I'm watching the Colorado Rockies in the World Series. After the dark days of so many seasons with not one playoff berth, I find it amazing that I'm even typing that. Watching the series coverage on Fox is painful. I'm confused: is their tag line "Viewer Discretion Advised"? I'm having to yell at my kids, "Eyes!" because while I can mute the guy with the dark and mysterious voice, the only way I can block the shocking stuff on the screen is to put up a graphic on the screen or turn the whole thing off. Given Fox's putrid stench, I might just institute a blackout and listen to the game on the radio. If the 1st inning break is as bad as the other breaks thus far, the radio it will be.

On The Dark Side Of Tolerance

Scouts put together a stretcher and carried out a wounded hiker for three miles. It's not hard to figure out that these scouts are in the same state as the scouts organization that is going to be charged $200,000 in rent because they discriminate against homosexuals.

This is the ugly side of so-called "tolerance laws." It is legislation that is aimed at removing the stigma from the homosexual community, but all it really does is cripple the good organizations founded on religious and moral principles. Rather than being an advocate for the disenfranchised, the groups pushing for this sort of legislation only produce victims and martyrs.

Change Is Good

It's snowing, the first hard snow the year. It's beautiful to see, especially after the heat of summer. On the other hand, we had so much snow last year that we were dreading it by February. Today, the kids want to go sledding. In a few months, they will probably be complaining about it. This alone makes me realize how geared to change we humans are. We can stand more than a few months of the same weather.

A friend of mine is considering mission aviation in Alaska. He said that both missionaries and natives alike struggle with depression. I'm sure that the weather up there combined with the lack of daytime sunshine plays a big part in this. I can't imagine going for weeks without seeing the sun.

God created us with the need for change, for sunshine and fresh air. When we don't get them, something's wrong and we know it. We may not know what it is we're missing, but we know something isn't right. That's where God comes in. He's the vine dresser, the one who made us and knows our needs. When we turn to him, he knows what we need and how to meet our needs. All we have to do is ask him for his help. He will either change the situation or change us. That's his job.

The snow is still coming down. I'm glad I don't have anywhere to go right now. I think I'll watch the flakes come down. It's a nice change.

Wards of the State

Fingerprinting to See Your Child At School: It's all a big mistake, but it shows how easily the government can cut off parents' access to their children in public schools. There are educrats that firmly believe that the children in their classroom are wards trusted to their care, that the parents may not always know whats best for their children and that as their teacher, they have a right to raise these children as they see fit from 8 to 4 in the afternoon. Good luck trying to convince them otherwise.

When I was in high school, I took a make-up course in Speech and Debate. It was not my favorite class! I ended up on the debate team. It was poor going all the way because I had no clue how to debate. That year's proposal to be debated was, "The student's right to confidentiality is greater than the parent's right to know."

Yeah, that's the same reaction I had. First, I had to have some help understanding what the implication was and how that would affect my positions, both for and against this proposal. The implication was that the state should be the ultimate parent and that students should have ultimate control of their lives. What was most troubling to me was that we were even debating this. My only plausible argument for the proposal was to argue to the exception, claiming that some of the students (a.k.a. wards of the teachers) would be harmed if parents had total access to the students' lives. My arguments against the proposal were legion because it was a fallacious proposal.

Yet such a mindset, that the state is the only capable parent, pervades education and this mindset troubles me more than anything else in education. It springs from a worldview that eliminates God in favor of the state. One only need read the following quote to see this in action. It's chilling...

"Parents give up their rights when they drop the children off at public school. " - Melinda Harmon, Federal District Judge [source]

Home-baked Goodness

My wife and I have been working for the last few years trying to get our family eating healthy food. This is not an easy task. As most people find out, if you want to eat good, you have to pay more money for it.

Approaching the holidays brings this out like no other time. We have a cooking magazine with an article that my wife left out. It starts out with the line, "Take a can of pie filling…" Immediately, I began thinking, What would we use in place of that? The next thought hit me square between the eyes. It might have something to do with apples and sugar. What a revelation! The real reason why there is a can of the apple pie filling in the first place is because no one has the time to make it on their own. We live in a world that is too busy to make apple pies from scratch. They add all these chemicals and extra preservatives to make sure that the food doesn't spoil while it sits on a shelf at the store. If I were to present two pies to a person and tell them that one of them was completely homemade and the other was bought from store, which do you think he would choose? Quite obviously, he would pick the homemade one, with all the imperfections and irregularities found in home cooking. The world wants good food; it just doesn't know where to get it. And so it accepts secondhand, store-bought imitation versions of the real thing, filled with chemicals and things they know to have no nutritious value, if it's not harmful.

Christians, especially homeschooling Christians, are susceptible to the belief that they are inferior because they are not polished, store-bought perfect. They fail to realize that what the world really wants is truth, with all of its little bumps and ridges. There's a reason they call Hollywood "Tinseltown." All that glitters truly is not gold. No matter how many chemicals, face lifts and botox, they can't replace the truth that God has created, just like you can't replace home-baked bread with a snack cake. He made us hunger for what is truly good. We crave sustenance and substance over sweet and saccharine.

To the homeschooling moms, I say that you are the fresh-baked bread of the world. You give life and hope to those who need it: your children. It is better that you raise one child with such goodness than for you to raise 50 children with the wisdom of the world. Have patience. Your work will be rewarded.

Changing Seasons

The weather's getting colder and that seems to be affecting my health, which isn't uncommon given that my arthritis makes me weather sensitive. I'm 34, by the way, the age when I should be enjoying my activity and challenging myself. Instead, my best friend is Ben Gay and two words that make me smile is the phrase "sleeping deeply." Sitting at the computer is a challenge, not a restful activity like it should be. Am I angry about it? Not furious, but I get frustrated enough. I am thwarted by my own body. I should not be down for 3 days after just going outside to toss the ball with my son. Yet, this is my world.

Someone who is very dear to me got promoted (died) the day before yesterday. It's very hard to see her go, even though it was definitely her time. I know that she is young again, youthful. Her knees don't ache, her hands are new and she sees wonders more beautiful and amazing than what I've ever seen, even in Colorado. I really envy her in a way, although I don't expect to die for many, many years yet, and God is going to have to personally drag me from my family. Still, heaven can't be all that bad and I'm looking forward to living free of this pain and lack of ability. Really looking forward. I have a sincere understanding of Romans 8:22-23:

We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.

Still, a part of me really likes autumn. Summer, I almost hate to say it, it gets old. I don't get tired of green, but it just loses it's specialness. I suppose I'd get tired of white if I lived further north, too. I love the football season, hot coffee, curling up under a blanket (when I'm not under the weather-ha!) and a good book. Kim Hill's lyrics from Black Shirts come to mind.

I love fall
And living by tall trees
And I love having a fire
Just before the first hard freeze
And I thank You for making all of this
And holding me in Your hands
I think I'm finally growing up
I'm starting to understand

What am I beginning to understand? I'm understanding what God said to Paul, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in [your] weakness." God isn't interested in how good we can be out of our own strengths. When my strength fades like the green from the leaves, His color comes through, revealing his glory. Is it the way I've chosen? No, but it's the best way He can be glorified in my life and I will accept that. He's holding me in His hands. Why would I choose anything else?

---

By the way, since no one else out on the web has Kim Hill's Black Shirts lyrics, I'm providing them.

Black Shirts
by David Mullen and Kim Hill

I love wearing black shirts
And wearing them with black Levi's
Jump in my convertible
And kick into overdrive
I love good times with good friends
And turning up my stereo
Dinner with my family
And watching late late shows

CHORUS:
But do I save any love for You?
Do I save any time for You?
A time when We're all alone,
I mean really alone?

I love fall
And living by tall trees
And I love having a fire
Just before the first hard freeze
And I thank You for making all of this
And holding me in Your hands
I think I'm finally growing up
I'm starting to understand

CHORUS:
I need to be saving love for You
I need to be spending time with You
A time when We're all alone
I mean really alone

(repeat chorus)

presented under fair use

Manxes, Mabbies and How Not To Dose A Cat

I found out that Tux, our 3 year old cat is 100% Manx and his aloofness is endemic to his breed. I like how that sounds, but not what it means. Because he's a Manx, he doesn't act like a Burmese or even a Bichon. No, I didn't cuss; that's the name of a dog breed. Tux is the epitome of the adage, "Dogs have masters and cats have staff."

Again, we got Tux because I really wanted a cat, even though I was allergic to most. The Manx, bobtail and all, is one of the few dander-free cats and the only one in my knowledge that doesn't look too weird. Then again, when my Brazilian neighbor saw Tux, she swore we cut off his tail.

Where was I? ...oh yeah, hypo-allergenic cats. Regardless, we set about getting another Manx cat, this one a mixed breed, a cross between a Manx and a Tabby. Yup, she's a Mabby, and we named her Chessie after she reminded me of the sleeping kitten in the Chesapeake and Ohio Railroad ads. It sure beats calling her Tanx.

She's now about six months old and we did the Bob Barker thing and had her spayed. Tux has been neutered already, which is a far less "invasive" procedure. Invasive is surgeon-speak for "big money." It also means that Chessie has a big ol' incision on her tum-tum. This wouldn't be a problem for normal cats, but Chessie's personality just can't leave new things alone. She messed with the wound and got it infected. Now the poor thing has staples in her belly and an Elizabethan collar around her neck. That's the "radar dish" thing they put around dogs that don't know any better. Obviously, she hates it. She's been moping and trying to carry on with life as normal. Tonight, my wife actually wondered what it was doing to the cat's self-esteem. My guess is that Tux's only thought is, "Do you get all the channels or just Animal Planet with that thing?"

Also tonight, we got to give her liquid antibiotics. Contrary to what you might think, the collar did not serve as a funnel. My wife was holding her and became the ultimate victim of the ordeal with a couple of scratches down her arm. I'm wondering how many more days are we supposed to give her this stuff and whether we can get some leather gloves that cover the arms. Maybe we could get some twine and bamboo shoots (Hey, it worked for Gilligan).

Despite all of the recent trouble, Chessie is quite a bit more affectionate than Tuxedo and purrs at my touch. She's still suspicious of me, but she's very approachable, just like any good boss.

Living With A Scaredy Cat

I have a 3 year-old cat named Tuxedo. He's a Manx (rhymes with banks) mix and we deliberately chose his breed because Manx are "low allergy" cats and my allergy to cats is strong. I've had eyes swell shut on me because of cat dander, and Manx for whatever reason don't have that kind of dander, or at least not enough to set me off.

Unfortunately, Tuxedo or "Tux" and I got off on the wrong paw and he's afraid of me. If I come downstairs, he dashes into hiding. If he comes into the room, I can't make any sudden movements or he's outta there. I've tried making up with him numerous times, but he can't seem to shake it off. I'll hold my hands out to pet him or even gently approach him and pet him, stroking his fur and rubbing underneath his chin. Any Burmese or any dog for that matter would take an "all-is-forgiven" attitude with me in a heartbeat. Not this cat; he refuses.

At the moment, Tux is lying five feet from me, observing life out our window (or, watching Cat TV, as I call it). A movement of my feet or a rolling of my chair and it's Goodbye Kitty. I want to pick that cat up and cuddle him. I want to rub all around his head, his cheeks, ears, and chin. Much as I want to, he won't let me get near him enough to lavish him with this affection. A pet, a touch is all I get. He won't relax and he'll bolt at the chance. It has been this way for much of his adult life. I'm not sure if he resents me, if he's angry with me, or if he simply fears me. The only message I get is "STAY AWAY!"

It's sad, but I begin to understand how God often feels with us. He wants to be near us, to stroke us under our chins, so to speak. He wants to lavish us with His affection, yet so often we bolt, we hide or we won't let Him get close. We refuse to be still and let Him near us, choosing busyness and hold Him at arm's length with our unrepentant hearts. His heart aches, longing to hold us in his arms and let us rest, stop and relax, yet we refuse, feeling unworthy or angry. We may feel his touch and yet we bolt or jump away at the nearest opportunity. Why? If we would just let Him love us and let ourselves linger in His arms, we would find that acceptance and deep comfort that only He can give us.

Isaiah 30:15, 18 says,

This is what the Sovereign LORD, the Holy One of Israel, says:
"In repentance and rest is your salvation,
in quietness and trust is your strength,
but you would have none of it. ..."
Yet the LORD longs to be gracious to you;
he rises to show you compassion.
For the LORD is a God of justice.
Blessed are all who wait for him!

When God moves, let him pick you up and hold you. That's his heart for you. He wants to give you a good "scratch behind the ears" and soothe you. It gives Him joy to do that with you. Just be still and know that He is God.

Link to Jamin's insightful thoughts about this

Why I Won't Post Poetry

I've had a long-standing rule on my blog. I will not post poetry. In a world with so much bad poetry and an abuser-friendly forum such as the blogosphere, there's no reason for me to subject myself to criticism (or praise) because there is certainly more than enough verse out there already to hurt your eyes with.

On the other hand, there's an exception to this rule, and good poetry shines so much more because of it. Kristina Campbell, who blogs under the name of Onfire, posted one such beauty recently. Now, beauty is somewhat subjective and depending on the reader, this poem either grabs you or it leaves you wondering. To me, there is nothing more beautiful than two old lovebirds sharing the flame of love they have kept alight since their youth together. That's what I want to be when I grow old.

Progress, Part II

I find it interesting to consider how our culture impacts our faith. Some may like to pretend it doesn't but I believe that the soil in which the seed is planted has an impact on the plant and the fruit that comes from it.

For example, in America, it seems like we have a tendency towards "instant replay" aspects of our faith. Before that runs too far, let me explain what I mean. In the NFL, as with any other sport, there have been bad calls by referees. As a solution, the NFL created the instant replay review where a team can challenge a call. The ref can review the play and either agree with or reverse the ruling on the field, explaining for the sake of the audience why he did so. While that has corrected some poor calls, it also has affected the way we view referees. No longer are the rulings on the field irreversible and (as far as the governing officials see it) inscrutable.

Likewise, when we get a "bad call" from God, like a child's death or a disability, we think we deserve an explanation--maybe even a correction. That's not how it works, at least not normally. There is no combination of syllables or order of words that can console a grieving father who naturally asks, "Why?" No answer would satisfy him, only because he doesn't really want to know why; he wants his child back.

Beth Holloway, the mother of Natalee Holloway, recently appeared in an interview and she reflected that her daughter's disappearance in Aruba has cost her everything. Nothing has remained untouched in her life, not her marriage, not her job, nothing. She's searching for her daughter, and if she can't find her, she's going to look for answers, answers she possibly believes that she's owed. I'm a parent and that's likely what I'd be doing if I was in her place.

My friend Russ posited this one tonight, and I think its worth sharing. The answer we sometimes get to "Why" questions might be simply that He won't provide the answer and simply require us to exercise faith. Faith that He is with us in these moments. Faith that He still works everything together for our good. Faith that He is "I AM," the eternal One that not only created the universe but acts within it to shape us and bring us into relationship with Him.

I'm often amazed at the intricacies of life. I encounter a few seconds delay in one place, like a traffic light, and later I see a friend somewhere else I go that I would have otherwise missed entirely. That friend coincidentally could use my help with something or needs me to relay something on to someone else and that ends up working some good in the grand scheme of things. I don't ask "Why" then, do I? Only when I disagree, or find the situation disagreeable. That's when I throw the red flag out on the field and challenge the play. I might as well hand the flag over to the ref before the opening kickoff. He's God; I'm not. He's inscrutable, and I am not. He is I AM and most certainly, I am not. That doesn't mean I won't have questions for Him when His perfect kingdom comes, but it does mean that I don't have to waste time with instant replay while I'm still on the field. Wind the clock, folks, and let's go.

The Mom Video

Anita Renfroe has been on Bananas Comedy show on Skyangel and now it appears her video below is "going viral" after Yahoo featured it on their site. She's got the mom part down, that's for sure and my wife can relate to most of it, except for the shoving your kids off to the school bus. (Our school bus is parked in the garage.) Have a seat and enjoy this rendition of the William Tell Overture.

(Yes, the video is choppy. Just listen, don't watch)



Here's the version from AnitaRenfroe.com. (The site may be crashing because of all the traffic, so be patient).

What God Calls Progress

Please keep us in prayer. I just found out that my contract with my church to provide online services will not be renewed and that I'm done at the end of the month. We could look at this as another setback, but all day long, I've felt God prompting me to look at this as Him moving me forward. Our idea of progress is linear. We believe that A leads to B and B leads to C, and that C is further along than A, ad infinitum. God's concept of progress can be quite different. The vine thinks how tall or long it grows, that's progress. The husbandman believes in getting each vine to produce closer to its maximum yield. He cares for each vine and helps it produce more fruit. That's progress to Him.

Lord, help us not to lose track of what you see as progress and bountiful harvest. Let us seek to bless others with what you have entrusted to us and not shrink back to conserve what little we have. You can do all things, Father. Nothing is too hard for you.