How I got to this place... (Part 3)

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Corinthians 12:9-10 ESV)

Continuing on from yesterday's post with the 3rd and final installment...

In late winter 2003, Aleksei came to the U.S. for the first time, on a trip to St. Louis as part of the the LCMS' Apple of His Eye ministry. Our pastor helped fly him to Texas on his way home (I had never met him in person and he stayed at my house) and visit with the congregation. While he was there we forged a “sister congregation” relationship with his in Moscow.

I should note here that also that in the fall of 2003 the same principal who had hired me two years earlier gave me permission to offer a one class (30 students maximum) Russian 1 course in the coming spring semester, even though I wasn't certified to teach secondary Russian (I did certify on my own in secondary English after becoming certified to teach ESL-- at the time I was teaching ESL and junior English). I successfully recruited over 60 students who were interested in taking Russian, then had to face my visibly irritated principal who told me the counselors would be paring the number down to 30 by seniority, upperclassmen first. But the inaugural Russian 1 class started in January 2004; by the end of the year I was certified (not an easy process for a "Lesser Taught Language" in Texas). When I resigned my teaching position to come to the seminary, I was a full-time Russian teacher (all levels, including Advanced Placement). The Russian language has been a central thread, at least until this past June, in the colorful and sometimes confusing tapestry of my life...

In the summer of 2004 I received a Fulbright-Hays educator grant to spend a graduate semester at Moscow State University. I hand-carried a love offering of $2000 that my congregation raised to help the daughter of one of Aleksei’s families that had been badly burned in an accident (and needed surgery). I was able to worship with his congregation in Moscow every Sunday while there. It was then I was certain that God was calling me to use my Russian to give back in His service.

In 2005 I wrote a letter to the president of the LCMS, explaining that I felt God gave me the second language of Russian for more than military work, and that we had missionaries of all colors, cultures, and languages, but nowhere in the U.S. was there an LCMS Russian-language outreach. Our district office made a call to the seminary here in Ft. Wayne and I was accepted into a 30-course, non-traditional online program designed to lead to ordination, which I completed in 2010. It was during this program that I served as a vicar (pastor intern); I led Russian language worship services (and when our only pastor had major surgery, the congregation allowed me to fill in for him while he recovered). Some Sundays I arrived at church at 6am and left at 5pm—it was tiring, but a good tiring and GREAT experience! (Our pastor and I “tag-teamed” a bilingual marriage ceremony for two members in the congregation—American groom and Belorussian bride—and I was even afforded the experience of guest-preaching at a number of congregations in the area).

In the summer of 2008, during my last trip to Russia (with a few of my high school Russian students), and I was invited by Aleksei to give the sermon during a Sunday evening worship service in Moscow (I was still a vicar), one of the singular, coolest things to have happened in my life-- to preach in Russia to Russians in Russian (and in front of a few of my students who asked if they could come along with me to church)!

Fast-forward to the present and here I am on the cusp of a year as a full-time seminary student. I can't help but look back and notice God's hand in the events that brought me to where I am now. Actually, I think I can single out some of the more salient "God moments" over the course of the past half-decade:

• Being born into a loving family bruised by addiction; my father's alcoholism led me to a strong relationship with my uncle (who passed in January; I received a call from the seminary that I had been formally accepted minutes before the start of his funeral) and to the United States Navy, where...
• I showed up one Saturday morning to enlist to go to air traffic controller school (the recruiter promised), but after a series of tests was asked whether I would like to learn Arabic, Chinese, or Russian and get paid a signing bonus ($1,500, which was like a million dollars to a 17-year old)...
• In the summer of 1981 I called my father from a payphone at the Defense Language Institute nearly in tears because I had been put on academic probation; thankfully, my primary Russian teacher (a very kind woman whose family had gotten out of the Soviet Union during WWII and emigrated to the U.S. from Germany-- I'll never forget her) took a liking to me and my three buddies...I think she cooked the books.
• I was barely 22 in January 1985 when I met a 20-year old girl upon return from a submarine deployment on the base in Japan where we were both stationed; she was Lutheran (which meant little to me then) and we were married by an LCMS chaplain 9 months later and last fall we celebrated our 30th anniversary (in a generation where divorce is rampant)...
• I returned to the same school for Intermediate Russian in 1986, but my Russian was so bad that on the first day when the Russian-speaking dean asked me-- in Russian, in front of the class-- if I was getting warm sitting by the heater (I knew he said this because he had to repeat it in English), all I could muster in summer white sailor suit was "Thank you!" in Russian, which elicited laughter from the other students and probably made me look like a strawberry parfait. That was a turning point, too...
• After completing Advanced Russian in 1990 (6 different classes each day with 6 different Russian native teachers, some who could say three words in English), I was sent begrudgingly to instructor duty in Maryland, where I showed up the first day to take a seat at my desk in the middle of an office of the Navy's best Russian linguists. I was really nervous and felt unworthy of the job the Navy had assigned me. While I was there, I fell in love with teaching, got top scores on all my required proficiency tests, and finished my bachelor's degree with a Russian major...while the Soviet Union was collapsing, so...
• I volunteered for recruiting duty to get us back to Texas, where we bought a house and where I would become Lutheran.
• The fall of the Soviet Union meant that I would not be able to reenlist at he 17-year mark as a Russian linguist, but would have to take another type of duty precipitating my request to retire at 20 years exactly and return to our house in Texas, where...
• I applied to teach high school English at the regional service center in Ft. Worth, but was turned down because my major was Russian and, they said, I would need 6 hours of upper-level English to meet the minimum requirement for consideration. That was the start of about 5 months of job hunting that was a downward spiral...
• Sometime after I left the service center, somebody saw on my application that I was a veteran and sent my paperwork to the Troops to Teachers office in San Antonio which, in turn, sent it to a woman who was starting the state's first private alternate certification program; this woman had retired from the district that hired me and was an acquaintance of the principal who called me while I was still in Baltimore (I found out all of this well after the fact)...
• In August 2010 I flew up at my own expense to the seminary from Texas for a theological interview (the last step in the seminary's certification process for ordination) and, though I had prepared, was really nervous. After giving the wrong answer to the first question, the rest of the interview was a disaster. I couldn't understand how I could do so well in the prescribed 30 courses and then tank in front of two professors in a 45-minute Q&A session. God's plan for me at that point was lost on me...

God's Grace is indefinable. Along the road of my life there have been persons who have not given up on me, even when I began to give up on myself. And along this road, since I graduated high school and joined the Navy, the signs have been in Russian. Until now-- or so it seems, which puzzles me. I wonder if the Russian language figures into my future? Maybe God has decided that after 35 years, it's time for an entirely new direction...

I just don't think so.

And that's how I got to this place. What a long, strange trip it's been, but to God be the glory! Through all the trials and tribulations, the achievements and celebrations, the disappointment and discouragement...my faith has grown from an acorn to a mighty oak! I believe, deeply in my heart and soul, that with God in Christ I can weather the storms that are bound to come before my time in this world is up. And that, brothers and sisters, is the moral of the story-- God's story in my life, which continues with the start of my seminary program on Tuesday!

С Богом!

P.S. Coming tomorrow: She called her pastor to come bless her house (because of spooks), but her pastor told her he wouldn't do that until she got someone to "smudge" her home...

How I got to this place... (Part 2)

The priest raises his foot. In it he feels a dull, heavy pain. This is no mere formality. He will now trample on what he has considered the most beautiful thing in his life, on what he has believed most pure, on what is filled with the ideals and the dreams of man. How his foot aches! And then the Christ in bronze speaks to the priest: 'Trample! Trample! I more than anyone know of the pain in your foot. Trample! It was to be trampled on by men that I was born into this world. It was to share men's pain that I carried my cross.'... The priest placed his foot on the fumie. Dawn broke. And far in the distance the cock crew.  (Shūsaku Endō, from his novel, Silence, 1966)

[I must preface today's post with a plug for the novel Silence, written by Japanese author Shūsaku Endō, about Jesuit missionary Sebastião Rodrigues (and based on the historical Italian figure Giuseppe Chiara) who struggles with his faith as a priest during the oppression of Christianity in 17th century Japan. I just finished it and it is now easily among my top ten favorite books! The film adaptation, with Liam Neeson and Benicio del Toro in the leading role as Fr. Sebastião Rodrigues (del Toro played revolutionary Che Guevara in Che, a superb movie from 2008), is set to open in November.]

Continuing on from yesterday's post...

In 1995 I was knee-deep in military recruiting as a Navy zone supervisor (the single most difficult job I ever had; a short-lived stint as a grocery store night manager was a close second) in Ft. Worth. We had bought a house two years’ prior, during our transition to Texas from Maryland. My job required me to work long hours, travel, and I even had to work some Sundays.

One Sunday afternoon in early April I was lying on the couch watching the Texas Rangers on tv, when I got a call from the vicar (pastor intern) at the church around the corner where my wife and daughters were members and where I sometimes showed up, if my schedule allowed. He had heard that I played softball in the Navy and said that the church's team needed a pitcher. So I joined up (and played when I could) and got to know a dozen guys, just about all of whom are still friends. Then I got interested in choir, then I offered to maintain the congregation’s nascent website, then I asked the pastor what I needed to do to become a member myself. He was gracious enough to work around my miserable schedule and one-on-one we worked through the pastor’s class requirement and on Memorial Day I stood before the congregation in my white Chief Petty Officer uniform and professed my faith—I became a Lutheran!

I had difficulty finding a job that could pay even close to what my military take-home pay was when I left the Navy in January 2001. I suffered the indignities of interview after interview, a series of hourly wage jobs, desperation followed by fear followed by intense anger at God...one morning in July I was in a hotel room near BWI airport packing my things to return from another interview when my cellphone rang-- it was the principal of a high school in the neighboring city in Texas with a job opening as an ESL teacher and I was 1,200 miles away. He agreed to meet me later in the day after I had returned to Texas, the interview took 15 minutes (10 of which was spent on the topic of football), and I left his office with a classroom key. A contract showed up in the mail 5 days later. I must admit that at that time I couldn't even spell ESL, much less teach it... On the drive home from that interview, thinking about that key in my pocket, I broke down because I had blamed God for what I perceived as His persecution of me for some reason that I just couldn't understand-- I felt so guilty and so ashamed, but at the same time so relieved! My faith took a huge step forward on that day.

To help supplement my starting teacher salary (minus the cost of certification), I had a job at a nearby large liquor store. While helping customers, I met a lot of Russian speakers and God gave me the idea to try and form a Russian-language Bible study. So I made little cards to hand out that directed folks to a webpage that advertised a study that began in spring 2002 and grew to about 20 persons through spring 2004. My pastor and I actually conducted a first-ever bilingual Easter service that year!

From 2001 until the end of 2004 I served in varying capacities at church—elder, Andrew Caller, small group leader and Sunday Russian Bible School teacher, mid-week instructor, choir member, member of congregational softball and bowling teams, congregational vice president, and chairman of the board of elders (the post I was occupying when our pastor,the guy who had graciously worked around my schedule to make a Lutheran out of me, took a call and left).

With my buddy Aleksei near
a Moscow Starbucks in 2008

When I had become a civilian again, I inquired within the LCMS as to whether there were any Russian-speakers (preferably living in Russia) with whom I could correspond to practice Russian. The church put me in touch with a missionary pastor in Moscow who, in turn, put me in touch with a Russian Lutheran pastor there named Aleksei. He and I spent many hours chatting online and became good friends. In fact, even though he now lives on the Crimean Peninsula and it's been years since we've visited, we still consider him part of our family (my father, who I think was a little distrustful of Russia and Russians at first, even gave him a house key of his own with an open invitation to stay in an extra bedroom). Thanks to my connection to Aleksei, the summer of 2004 became a huge spiritual turning point for me... 

How I got to this place... (Part 1)

Who am I, that the eyes that see my sin
Would look on me with love and watch me rise again?
Who am I, that the voice that calmed the sea
Would call out through the rain
And calm the storm in me?

I am a flower quickly fading,
Here today and gone tomorrow.
A wave tossed in the ocean.
A vapor in the wind.
Still You hear me when I'm calling.
Lord, You catch me when I'm falling.
And You've told me who I am.
I am Yours, I am Yours.  (from Who Am I by Casting Crowns, 2003)

I started blogging as a "theolog" on Wednesday, December 23-- 8 months ago, give or take a few days (my inaugural post: New blog and a Twitter name change...). My intention was to post/journal daily, but that proved too unrealistic of a goal, especially at the end of May as we were preparing to pack the cat and set sail for Indiana (and shortly after arrival I started Greek); however, I have managed to make a pretty good go of it-- I still try to blog when I can (or when I need to-- sometimes I just have to vent). This morning I was out walking my thoughts and I decided to devote the next three posts to the back story of just how I ended up a 53-year old, full-time seminary student. So, if you're curious, read on. If not, come back in about three days for a topic change...

(By the way, what follows is the Reader's Digest version. Seriously.)

I joined the U.S. Navy when I was 17 and retired after 20 years as Senior Chief Petty Officer (E-8). I completed all three levels of Russian at the Defense Language Institute in Monterey, CA—basic, intermediate, and advanced—earning 60+ upper and lower level Russian credits that became my major. I earned my bachelor’s degree from the University of the State of New York while still on active duty in 1993. I became a public high school ESL, English, and Russian teacher in 2001.

The question of just exactly when the Lord began framing me for pastoral service is a tough one to answer, as I cannot think of a specific time when finding out more about God and church became a priority for me. But if I had to pin down one event that may have been the catalyst (unbeknownst to me at the time) for a relationship with Christ and the Lutheran Church – Missouri Synod (LCMS), it would have to be a day in January 1985 when the Lord placed a beautiful sailor in my path while I was stationed in Misawa, Japan, during my first tour in the Navy. Before the year was out we were married.

My wife was born into an LCMS family and though when I met her we were young and really not yet equipped for marriage, we were married there on base (much to the chagrin of both our families) by an LCMS chaplain. When I met her, I had absolutely no idea what it meant to be Lutheran.

I was raised in a family that talked about and believed in God (mostly through Alcoholics Anonymous—my father fought addiction his entire life—though we children had all been baptized in the Presbyterian Church, an institution we affiliated with, yet visited very rarely). I do not recall meeting a pastor until I was married by one.

When our first daughter was born in 1989, her baptism was a priority for my wife. We were living in Maryland at the time and she had her membership transferred to an LCMS congregation that we visited every Sunday, so I started asking questions about why this rite was necessary, first of my wife, then of others. In 1991, we were in Michigan visiting my wife’s family and our second daughter was baptized at my in-laws’ church. I still was not sure why it was such an important issue—in fact, I remember asking my mother-in-law why and she replied “to wash away original sin.” Truthfully, I was not very clear on Original Sin then, either (such a response from a Lutheran is an obvious teaching moment).

During a second assignment in Maryland, my wife transferred her membership (and that of my daughters) to another LCMS congregation that was nearer to our base quarters. During my first visit there, I was vexed by all the page turning in the hymnal and just had to find out what it all meant and why these Lutherans did it during worship (and what was a Divine Setting?...I had to find out). I got to know the pastor of that small congregation and asked a lot of questions. Soon after, I worked as an usher and got to know a guy we called Deacon Bud (he really was a Deacon in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, but crossed over—he could lead a service but could not marry a couple). Deacon Bud and I got to know each other; when I was scheduled to open the church on a Sunday to prepare for service, he and I would walk across the street to the 7-Eleven, get a coffee, and return to sit on the church steps and chat before people started to arrive. He was a big, burly steel worker of a man who ran a horseshoes tournament/ministry behind a crab shack on Wednesday nights that attracted some of the more hardened characters I have seen in my day.  I was so impressed by his ability to witness to them in THEIR language (when he needed to, Bud swore like a sailor—especially when breaking up fights). He collected $5 per head and half of everything went to the church, half of what was left went to the crab shack for refreshments, and the last portion went out as prize money. He started every tournament with a prayer. Some of the things I heard about the guys who came each weak made my heart sink. And more than a few of them showed up in church…

Deacon Bud may have been the most influential person God placed in my life (aside from my wife). He was real to me. Not pious or churchy. But a wellspring of faith. When I was accepted into an online seminary program in 2005, I wrote him a letter to express my gratitude for our time together, but I never got a reply...

Nice, Nice, Very Nice... Uh-oh, NOT very nice...

Oh, a sleeping drunkard
Up in Central Park,
And a lion-hunter
In the jungle dark,
And a Chinese dentist,
And a British queen--
All fit together
In the same machine.
Nice, nice, very nice;
Nice, nice, very nice;
Nice, nice, very nice--
So many different people
In the same device. (53rd Calypso of Bokonon from Chapter 2 of Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut)

Yesterday I set my iTunes to shuffle and as I was sitting here at the computer, the Ambrosia (but very early Kansas-esque) song "Nice, Nice, Very Nice" played. I paused to listen to the lyrics (from a poem in Kurt Vonnegut's novel Cat's Cradle) and thought to myself, what a great metaphor-- "So many different people in the same device." I'd never given that song much consideration since I first heard it as a high school kid. (I think it's time to reread Cat's Cradle and reacquaint myself with the tenets of Bokononism...)

From Nice, Nice, Very Nice to NOT very nice... At the risk of sounding as though I'm blurring that ever-shrinking line between Church and State, I feel I need to speak out against the over-paid (and in his own opinion under-played) NFL quarterback who refused to stand for our national anthem during Friday's Green Bay - San Francisco game in a sadly quixotic effort to make the point that I am not going to stand up to show pride in a flag for a country that oppresses black people and people of color. To me, this is bigger than football and it would be selfish on my part to look the other way. There are bodies in the street and people getting paid leave and getting away with murder. I guess when your salary averages 19 million a year, you are free to make a personal statement to a captive audience on a national stage against the very country that allows you such a luxury in the first place. Rather than publicly disrespect your fellow Americans, the 49ers fan nation, the NFL, and the United States of America, why not channel some of that idealism (and some of that huge pie you're eating from) into positive endeavors to make a difference. Rather than sit there in silent militancy, join with the MANY others who are reaching out to the oppressed (black or white or whatever color) and into communities where there is plenty of despair and too few role models. (Maybe use those biceps for others, not as billboards for what God has done for you.) (And you were confirmed in a Lutheran church, too, weren't you? Puzzling.) As for those who would burn your jersey because you were exercising your (God-given) right to free speech, they, too, need to get a grip.

Back to Nice again... This is a pic (click to make it larger) I took on yesterday's death walk. I tried to get a good shot of a beautiful hawk in tree (as close to me as the driver in the next car over at a stoplight), but he/she took off before I could zoom in. But what a truly magnificent bird!

Oh yeah, one other Nice thing to mention. A headline in today's newspaper caught my eye: Death doulas hope to make dying easier The article printed originally came out in the July 22nd Washington Post. I was drawn to the word doula, which I learned in my recently conquered Koine Greek course means female servant/slave. The word has come to mean a woman trained to assist a midwife during childbirth. I, on the other hand, am a doulos (in more than one sense of the word!). It's a fascinating article and I tip my hat to those altruistic souls who volunteer for such a noble cause. Nice, Nice, Very Nice!

So many different people in the same device...

С Богом!

Got spooks? Who ya gonna call?...

...not this guy. Read on...

Yesterday morning I strapped on my old school Timex Ironman Triathlon GPS watch-- it's like wearing a satellite dish-- and went for a solo death march in and around IPFW (Go Dons!). (Including this morning's 6.53 miles, I've walked 11 miles and some change in the last 3 days...) When I got home I made a cheese 'n' hammy sammy, plopped down in front of the tube and as I was looking for something to chow down by, I happened across a 2012 episode of A Haunting on the Destination America channel (see related July 24 post).

So this episode of a tv show SO mind-boggling stupid had a synopsis that made me curious (not unlike a rubbernecker slowly rolling past the carnage of a multi-vehicle pileup on the interstate-- you just can't help but peer and gawk as horrendous as it may be...): Georgia single Mom Cindy Sauer tries to get over the sudden death of her husband when dark shadows and nightmares convince her that a demon is haunting her. Cindy turns to a Pastor to exorcise the entity before it drives them literally insane. So this woman's husband committed suicide in the house where she still lives with her teenage daughter. She meets an ex-pastor (red flag!) who, like she, has a penchant for haunted things (houses, mostly). Why the guy is an ex-pastor is only alluded to, as is his experience with a couple of possessions that left him...well, spent. BUT. Because he "studied theology" he is able to quickly diagnose the problem and recommend "a religious intervention." Really. I wonder if any of the writers of this crap have even set foot inside a church? But Expastor isn't the hero of this tale, lawdy mama no! He has connections to (an obviously non-Roman Catholic) "priest" somewhere in the Georgia outback where this nonsense plays out, a "Father Darren" who shows up (with a tin of pre-sanctified wafers and a sidekick-- Paranormal Mary, a woman from some local Ghostbusters outfit). After demanding-- twice!-- that the demon possessing the woman give up its name, it did. What I heard was Albert, which made me giggle with a mouthful of potato chips, but it turns out the name was Albin. Albin. What self-respecting demon would go on tv with a name like Albin?! (Seriously, it's like a demon named Hortence or Francis or Theodore...) Anyway, this Father Darren saved the day and they all lived happily ever after (including Albin, whom the woman belched out in a dark, miasmic puff...and then he was gone). Just like that. Case closed...

...not so fast. I did some digging on this Father Darren and all I could find were two podcast pages with broken links and a tenuous connection to the Anglican Diocese of the South, which doesn't even list his church.

Once again my caveat: I am an unpaid amateur, a seminary student, so I am far from an authority on things ecclesiastical or theological, which includes exorcisms. But if you're going to make a tv episode entitled "The Exorcism of Cindy Sauer," you need the Catholic Church-- they, literally, wrote the book on exorcism. So once again, I make the point that apologetics is very, very important in a world where people get their theology from tv shows like A Haunting. And, speaking of aplogizing, the writers and cast and real-life characters of that episode need to. Apologize, I mean.

However, speaking of priests, I am right now knee-deep in a great read, Silence (being made into a movie), about the persecution of Portuguese Jesuit priests in Japan in the early 17th century. It's historical fiction and I just marvel what these trailblazing priests endured to spread the Gospel, guided only by faith.

Well, that's it for now. It's grillin' time on the patio and a cold beer awaits...

Until next time...

С Богом!

What if Jesus just dropped by to say hi?

After these things he appeared in another form to two of them, as they were walking into the country. And they went back and told the rest, but they did not believe them. (Mark 16:12-13 ESV)

What would send the unsuspecting public-- in particular, a vast majority of evangelical Christians-- into a mass panic? An appearance by Jesus in the pre-parousic (okay, maybe that's not a word) sense, that is to say on this side of heaven, or a visit from extraterrestrial lifeforms. What if either showed up tomorrow, unannounced, just to reassure us that we're not alone? Just dropped by to say hi?

Imagine if I reported right here on this blog that I not only saw Jesus in the flesh, but interacted with him? Maybe had a cup of coffee or lunch with him? I would be branded at the least a religious wacko, most likely you'd think I was just a nut, certifiable. Same as if I told you I interacted with E.T. (though not likely over coffee or lunch...)

But as I posted yesterday, I got to thinking what it might be like to see and talk to Jesus in this world... What would/could I say to God? What would it feel like to look into the eyes of this man who knows absolutely everything about me-- every dark secret, every regret, every shame, every dream, my future, and, I shudder to think of it, the extent of my faith? And how could I not help but wonder why God would want to spend time with me (in the corporeal sense)...with an everyday, average schlep like me? (I think now I better understand that "fear of God" thing...) What could Jesus the Messiah, God Himself possibly want with me (when there's so much war and pestilence elsewhere, what with that devil on the loose and all)?

Let's imagine that I wouldn't become so fraught with guilt and anxiety that I lose my faculties or have an accident, that I find such an encounter purposeful (even though I don't know what the purpose is) and so get myself together and simply spend time with my Savior... (oh who am i fooling-- i'd be a mess)

Let's also suppose that for just such an occasion, I already had a few pre-prepared questions (in case I was a mess and couldn't think straight) to ask Jesus. I actually do have a bunch; however, at the risk of drawing the attention of the heresy Gestapo, I've narrowed the list to these five, beyond the most obvious "Why me?":

1. Why is Scripture silent on your whereabouts between your preteen years and your Baptism by John?
2. Why was Sin (Satan) allowed into God’s Garden, a place of blissful innocence where God walked with Man? 
3. From a human standpoint, if punishment is meant to incapacitate, deter, get restitution, exact retribution, or rehabilitate, then is there a means to the end of eternal damnation under the Law?
4. If it is even possible for a man like me to comprehend what heaven is like, could you describe it? 
5. In a seemingly infinite universe, it’s difficult to believe that ours is the only life-sustaining planet—is there other sentient life out there? 

It sounds like such a grand fantasy, doesn't it? To be able to ask God certain questions like these...

But, seriously, now. What would I do with the answers?

Apologetics and Reel Theology 2

"Let it be known to you therefore, brothers, that through this man forgiveness of sins is proclaimed to you, and by him everyone who believes is freed from everything from which you could not be freed by the law of Moses. Beware, therefore, lest what is said in the Prophets should come about:
‘Look, you scoffers,
be astounded and perish;
for I am doing a work in your days,
a work that you will not believe, even if one tells it to you.’” (Acts 13:38-41 ESV)

My two-week break began yesterday morning with a molar extraction at 9am, leaving me oozy and woozy for most of the day. I flipped on the tv in the bedroom and noticed that The Robe was on one of the retro movie channels-- what a great movie (I'd seen it at least twice) about faith and, though not directly, apologetics. If you haven't seen it, you really should! The 1953 film is based on the book by the same name written by Lloyd Douglas (a Lutheran pastor and popular author in the 1930s) and published in 1942. According to Wikipedia: At the height of his popularity, Douglas was receiving on average 100 letters a week from fans. One of these letters provided the inspiration for The Robe. Hazel McCann, a department store clerk from Ohio, wrote to Douglas asking what he thought had happened to Christ's garments after the crucifixion. Douglas immediately began working on a novel based on this concept, sending each chapter to McCann as he finished it. Douglas and McCann finally met in 1941, and it is to her that Douglas has dedicated the book. (I find it interesting, as well, that it came out at the height of the McCarthy Era...)

The actors' Eurocentric facial features and accents (in particular Richard Burton's accent, more suited for Shakespearean theater), and the length (2:15), play against a story centered around the Crucifixion. This is the kind of movie that might cause a non-churchgoer to ask questions or even seek answers in a...well, a church (like The Exorcist did back in the 70s, though without the levitating 12-year old girl and a demon that speaks Latin backward and swears like a sailor). The central question in this film is "Why?"-- as in "Why did this [Crucifixion] have to happen?" (Without Jesus' death on the Cross, there could be no story; an off-road theological question arises in The Exorcist, as well-- "Why is the possession depicted in Hollywood fashion so frightening to many viewers?")

Such a movie is a good conversation-starter for the multitudes wandering aimlessly in this life...

Speaking of films, Last Friday I posted about God's Not Dead 2 (see Apologetics and Reel Theology), considering it more of an us-them depiction of Christians, rather than a conversation-starter movie that would likely be seen by non-Christians. In the film, the central character, a high school teacher, encourages her young, energetic lawyer to read the book "Man, Myth, Messiah," written by the author of "God's Not Dead: Evidence for God in an Age of Uncertainty," on which the original film God's Not Dead is based. Sunday afternoon my wife and I visited an outdoor mall (the weather was spectacular) and split up after a restaurant lunch-- I wandered about and ended up in a Barnes & Noble (a real-life brick-and-mortar bookstore-- I thought they were becoming extinct), with a cup of Starbuck's and a copy of the book from the movie. I thought that, perhaps, the book might offer a curious reader more in the way of apologetics-- and it does; however, the author apparently assumes that the reader will have at least some fundamental understanding of Christianity and the Bible (specifically the Old Testament, making it a difficult place to start a quest for answers) and the theology takes liberties in some places. I raised a Lutheran eyebrow at such statements made as this one on p. 72: The plan of salvation started with the first sacrifice-- the death of an animal in the garden to create a covering for Adam and Eve's sin. This is an inference that takes liberties in interpreting this verse from Genesis that comes after woman's confession to having been deceived by the serpent in the Garden: "And the LORD God made for Adam and for his wife garments of skins and clothed them." (Genesis 3:21 ESV), about which Luther comments: Here Adam and Eve are dressed in garments by the Lord God Himself. Whenever they looked at their garments, these were to serve as a reminder to them to give thought to their wretched fall from supreme happiness into the utmost misfortune and trouble. Thus they were to be constantly afraid of sinning, to repent continually, and to sigh for the forgiveness of sins through the promised Seed. This is also why He clothed them, not in foliage or in cotton but in the skins of slain animals, for a sign that they are mortal and that they are living in certain death. (Luther’s Works, AE 1:221)

I initially was thinking when I bought this book that if it turned out to be a better conversation-starter (than GND2), it might make a nice gift for someone who wants to find out more, but doesn't know what/whom/where to ask. I had a flashback to a conversation between my brother, his son, and me on whatever that highway is that runs between Albuquerque and Santa Fe some years back. I don't know exactly what prompted the conversation about church and faith, but I distinctly recall my brother telling me, very diplomatically (and very honestly?), that "I need more time to process" such topics. Having read this book, I think the author may have meant his assertions, comparisons, and refutations for someone like my brother, but the content is a little too much (IMHO), though I would say there are many Christians whose horizons could be expanded from many of the names, places, and events mentioned.

After watching the movie yesterday, I napped on and off for a bit. As I was lying there half-dazed, I wondered to myself what it must have been like to actually meet Jesus during his ministry-- or even to meet him now (not in the died-and-gone-to-heaven sense)... The more I thought on it, the more difficult it became for me to even imagine any kind of conversation (would he speak English-- he's God after all-- with an Aramaic accent?). And would I even recognize him if I saw him? (Think of the Road to Emmaus episode in Luke 24...) Eventually I settled on five questions I would like to ask Jesus if the opportunity ever presented itself here in this world, since such questions won't matter much in heaven.

Tomorrow I'll share them with you.

С Богом!

They tell me art needs no apology...

Today's weather permitted us our weekly death march. As promised, I paused long enough to take a picture in front of the objet object (as in "I object") d'art that waits for me every Saturday morning as I make my way along the otherwise serene path through the IPFW campus (Go Dons!), the sleepy St. Joe whispering in my ear. It's a lot more otherworldly in real life.

There was no name or plaque on the base of this piece, sentineled near a large tree under which is a plaque commemorating the "Quiet Place" of a now deceased professor (visible on the ground in the dirt to the left). So I did some digging when we got home. This object is called “Birds in the Billows” and is an abstract metal sculpture made in 2012 from items pulled out from the Maumee River (one of the three rivers that converge on Ft. Wayne). It's green art from a green artist, an art instructor who produces such "reclaimed creations" from refuse. The one I see every Saturday must be a scaled-down reproduction of the original, pictured with the sculptor (near the pedestrian bridge over the St. Joseph; it's not there now) in the inset.

So now I feel guilty for letting it intimidate me; it's abstract art! (Well, I think it's abstract art-- the name is abstract, too...what, exactly, are "billows"?...like smoke?) I've decided to try and have an open mind and accept this sculpture, even though I don't understand it (or its name), stopping short of admitting that I could, someday maybe, possibly learn to appreciate-- and even like?-- it.

If you happen to be the artist looking in on this, my amateur and wholly subjective critique of your work that I pass every Saturday morning, please don't be offended! In fact, you ought to be flattered, as this object and its creator has made an indelible impression upon me...

(Honestly, I have been moved by art-- I'm not totally without sensibility. In 2004, I turned a corner and encountered a visibly tormented Jesus sitting by himself in Ivan Kromskoy's 6' x 7' "Christ in the Desert" hanging in Moscow's Tretyakov Gallery. I was so touched by the artist's expression of the anguish in Christ's face and posture that I very nearly started to cry.)

Who knows? Perhaps the closet poet, bar stool philosophizer, or theolog in me can give this piece another chance next week...

No promises.

So until next time,

С Богом!

Art needs no apology (so I'm told)...

Today's weather permitted us our weekly death march. As promised, I paused long enough to take a picture in front of the objet object (as in "I object") d'art that waits for me every Saturday morning as I make my way along the otherwise serene path through the IPFW campus (Go Dons!), the sleepy St. Joe whispering in my ear. It's a lot more otherworldly in real life.

There was no name or plaque on the base of this piece, sentineled near a large tree under which is a plaque commemorating the "Quiet Place" of a now deceased professor (visible on the ground in the dirt to the left). So I did some digging when we got home. This object is called “Birds in the Billows” and is an abstract metal sculpture made in 2012 from items pulled out from the Maumee River (one of the three rivers that converge on Ft. Wayne). It's green art from a green artist, an art instructor who produces such "reclaimed creations" from refuse. The one I see every Saturday must be a scaled-down reproduction of the original, pictured with the sculptor (near the pedestrian bridge over the St. Joseph; it's not there now) in the inset.

So now I feel guilty for letting it intimidate me; it's abstract art! (Well, I think it's abstract art-- the name is abstract, too...what, exactly, are "billows"?...like smoke?) I've decided to try and have an open mind and accept this sculpture, even though I don't understand it (or its name), stopping short of admitting that I could, someday maybe, possibly learn to appreciate-- and even like?-- it.

If you happen to be the artist looking in on this, my amateur and wholly subjective critique of your work that I pass every Saturday morning, please don't be offended! In fact, you ought to be flattered, as this object and its creator has made an indelible impression upon me...

(Honestly, I have been moved by art-- I'm not totally without sensibility. In 2004, I turned a corner and encountered a visibly tormented Jesus sitting by himself in Ivan Kromskoy's 6' x 7' "Christ in the Desert" hanging in Moscow's Tretyakov Gallery. I was so touched by the artist's expression of the anguish in Christ's face and posture that I very nearly started to cry.)

Who knows? Perhaps the closet poet, bar stool philosophizer, or theolog in me can give this piece another chance next week...

No promises.

So until next time,

С Богом!

Apologetics and Reel Theology

Now who is there to harm you if you are zealous for what is good? But even if you should suffer for righteousness' sake, you will be blessed. Have no fear of them, nor be troubled, but in your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy, always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect, having a good conscience, so that, when you are slandered, those who revile your good behavior in Christ may be put to shame. For it is better to suffer for doing good, if that should be God's will, than for doing evil. (1 Peter 3:13-17 ESV)

Yea verily, I have passed my Greek final and will begin my one-year Alternate Route program in just over two weeks! Woo-hoo!!

The Church-State DMZ: The oily, atheist prosecuting attorney neglected to ask the judge
about the Bible on the bench next to his gavel... (scene still from God's Not Dead 2)

Last night my wife and I watched God's Not Dead 2, the second in the franchise from Pure Flix Entertainment, the Christian film production company run by David A.R. White aka Pastor Dave in both films. And the second to feature music and a cameo or two from the Christian rock band Newsboys (and who doesn't love the Newsboys?). The first iteration didn't do much for me-- I found it to be a contrived feel-good, spiritually uplifting, but theologically strained film that was quickly mass-marketed as a non-denominational church sermon series and Sunday school study. One of my favorite Christian songs is the Newsboys' confessional We Believe (and they crank it up in the first film...).

The second film was much like the first, in my opinion, and I may not have even paid any attention to it had it not had this premise that piqued my curiosity as a Christian and a (now ex-)high school teacher. Here's a synopsis (from Reel World Theology): God’s Not Dead 2 largely trades on an interaction between Brooke (Hayley Orrantia), a spiritually-seeking, public high school student and her Christian teacher, Grace (Melissa Joan Hart), over whether the words of Jesus are similar to the ideas of Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr. In order to answer the question with some clarity Grace decides to quote the book of Matthew in a rather innocent fashion; that is, she doesn’t proselytize, she simply answers Brooke’s question. Word gets back to Grace’s administrative superiors and she is suspended for having “preached” in class. One thing leads to another and the ACLU decides to prosecute Grace in public court. The rest of the film tracks how the case plays out.

My concern about these types of movies, and this franchise, in particular, is twofold-- first, who are they meant for?, and who will pay to see them? If the answers are the unchurched and mostly Christians (rather than a broken world and movie-goers of all kinds), then I have to wonder at the point(s)... So, then, you are thinking (I know), why do I bother to watch them? Good unasked question!

I am fascinated (seriously, in a Mr. Spock way) by what people (will) believe or won't believe. What drives them into a church pew? Or to seek God (or a "higher power")? Are we just a herd of sheep doing whatever popular culture tells us we should be doing? THIS is why I will bring myself to watch these kinds of Christian devil'sgonnagetcha types of films.

The Center for Public Education website provides a little insight into the back story of God's Not Dead 2 (my underlining): Increasingly, public school leaders describe being seized by a powerful vise grip. On one side: local and national religious organizations that push, then sue if they believe religion is being denied. On the other: civil liberties groups, equally aggressive and equally willing to use federal courts to thwart coziness between religion and school practices. These types of cases have been around for decades, but as the United States has become increasingly polarized along religious lines, disputes and subsequent lawsuits over religion in the schools have drawn widespread attention on a local, state, and national level. The following examples show what that tightrope looks like on a day-to-day basis.

OK: Teaching about the Bible, the Torah, or other sacred texts and their influence on human behavior. No one denies that religion has strongly motivated behavior in the United States and around the world. Acknowledging that fact in the curriculum does not raise First Amendment concerns.
Wrong: Teaching sacred documents with devotion or as singular truth. It crosses the line when a teacher or school district portrays one religion or religion in general as the preferred belief.

So in this movie, an AP History teacher answered a student's question about a comparison of MLKJr's preaching of non-violence to Jesus' preaching the same. In her reply, she cited a verse or two from Matthew's Gospel, but nothing in her answer could have been called proselytizing in even the most legalistic sense. So she was hauled before a disciplinary board, urged to confess that she was wielding her faith before malleable young minds (very 1692 Salem), then given an ultimatum, after which the rest of the story played out in a courtroom. Could this really happen in this country in the 21st century? I think so, albeit not so much like this (speaking as a high school teacher for 15 years-- see my post The government continues to weed God from the garden...).

What grinds me most about this portrayal of what could very well be a real-life event in a time when everyone is a victim, even a victim of religion, is that there are basically two types of people in the world where this scenario unfolds-- haters (blatantly bitter atheists, mostly; were I one, I'd have been offended at how they were portrayed!) and non-denominational (Baptist-y) Christians. It was one eschatological face-off after another between the sheep and goats (see Matthew 25:31–46).

The church-state issues are very, very real; yet this story seemed to have more of a Soviet-era persecution aftertaste, rather than mirroring a headline from a country that prides itself on freedom of religion, speech, and lifestyle. And like with the first film, the synergistic theology, that one must "invite" Jesus into one's heart in order to be saved, made me flinch a few times. The teacher at one point is so distraught that she pleads with God not to forsake her (God assures and reassures us in His Word that he will never forsake us). Pat Boone's character, the teacher's aging father, in trying to assuage her fear that God has forsaken her, tells her that as an educator she should know that the teacher is always quiet during a test (leading folks watching the movie to perhaps believe that God presents us with obstacles and then disappears behind the curtain...). In another scene, Pastor Dave has been subpoenaed to turn over 180 days' worth of sermons for scrutiny by the government; what could/should have been an MLKJr-esque (or, better, Bonhoeffer-esque) moment, just fizzled. And, lastly, and most ironically, was the Bible on the judge's bench.

There was, however, some very good acting-- in particular, Paul Kwo's role as the Chinese exchange student and Jesse Metcalf as the young lawyer who defends the teacher (near the end, his diatribe in the courtroom directed at the teacher on the stand was nearly Atticus Finch-like-- you'll have to see it for yourself...like that bear scene in The Revenant). In the end, common sense and human reason win out in this (again) theologically strained tale (well, we, the Christians who watch movies like this, know that God always wins). I don't know that I could, in good faith, recommend this film (or its begetter) to a non-believer.

There was plenty of room for some great apologies (defending one's beliefs) in God's Not Dead 2, and Pastor Dave early on even quoted 1 Peter 3:15 ("[be] prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you"), but, alas, there was very little (aside from authors Lee Strobel and Jim Wallace playing themselves on the witness stand). Until somebody can produce a movie on par with the likes of The Exorcist (overly Catholic and frightening to some, but a great movie about faith that drew crowds from all demographics), one that pokes at the very soul of the lost (not the "hater" like in GND2) in the audience, one that truly speaks to the conscious of the transgressor, one that testifies that God's grace, mercy, and love are the hope for a world gone bad...until a film like that comes out, movies like this one will continue to preach to the sheep...

The goats are getting their theology elsewhere.

So, TGIF! I'm done with Greek! And God's not dead...He's surely alive!!

С Богом, ya'll.

P.S. The lawyer's comment in GND2 to the person who let out a "God bless you!" when someone on the jury sneezed was flippant, but so true...

Apologetics and the Natural Order of Things

Therefore you have no excuse, O man, every one of you who judges. For in passing judgment on another you condemn yourself, because you, the judge, practice the very same things. We know that the judgment of God rightly falls on those who practice such things. Do you suppose, O man—you who judge those who practice such things and yet do them yourself—that you will escape the judgment of God? (Romans 2:1-3 ESV)

Breaking news... I survived the 2-hour Greek final this morning that capped 10 weeks of instruction at near warp speed. I don't know my grade yet, but I was confident about 80% of my responses (however, my stupidity factor can't be truly measured until I see the final outcome...). We'll find out tomorrow (the last day of the class-- woo-hoo!!). Κύριε ελέησον.

Any confessional, credal Lutheran worth his (or her) salt will tell you that one of the mainstays of effective Christian witness is apologetics; "defense of one's faith" is more than martyrdom-- it means being able to provide a theologically sound explanation or exposition of the truth in the face of non-truth. Lutherans are often misunderstood as a bunch of medieval rebels who somehow repackaged (and rebranded) Roman Catholic worship culture and tradition into a Pope-less free-for-all behind a disgruntled and temperamental Martin Luther. Yet one of the most idiosyncratic Lutheran traits to come out of the Reformation is the diligence by which church doctrine-- as well as social mores, historical events, and questions about the natural world (including gender issues)-- is vetted by Scripture. Lutheran doctrine is "taken from the Word of God and solidly and well grounded therein" (FC SD Summary, 5), "supported with clear and irrefutable testimonies from the Holy Scriptures" (ibid., 6), and based "godly confession, built upon solid testimonies of the truth, which cannot be shaken, and is expressed in the Word of God" (Preface to The Book of Concord).

And while it is meet and right to stand on the truth in word and deed, no Christian is called upon to judge another (Romans 2:1-3, as a reminder). Professing one's faith is not proclaiming "I'm right, you're wrong!", but "God's right and we're all wrong!" Listening to another's point of view or faith tenets is part and parcel to creating the dialogue necessary through which a look at God's Word can, hopefully, begin to clear up any misconceptions or misunderstandings (and even help with some of the tougher questions facing humanity, like, "If there really is a God out there somewhere, why doesn't He do something about all the suffering in the world?!"), especially those that occur as a result of using human reason to make sense of the world around us...

I happened across an interesting article posted today to The Campaign for Core Christianity Discover website: 5 Reasons Why Science and Faith Are Compatible. It deals with science and the question of God. Actually, the entire site is very interesting; if you have a few minutes, take a look around. (Check out the short video: Aren’t all religions the same?)

The Bible reveals a loving God who created an ordered world for His most beloved of creations. Sin has pockmarked every facet of human existence and we find ourselves in an increasingly disordered world where even the relatively simple biological concept of male and female (as well as the biblical concept of headship) has been perverted (here's a very well-written post on the sexes as God intended). From gender confusion to the threat of rampant radical religious zealots to the destruction of the very planet we live on, the need for clarity of God's Word (Luther called it "the perspicuity of Scripture") is great! People live in a frenzy, confused and afraid-- and need not be!

If it weren't for human reason, there wouldn't be the hundreds (thousands?) of church bodies out there staking a proprietary claim on the truth. Luther is said to have remarked, "In philosophy an error that is small at the beginning becomes very great in the end. So a small error in theology overturns the whole body of doctrine." So true.

So here I am, a seminary student, with a God-planted desire to...

...become a pastor (and a confessional, credal Lutheran one, at that) and help offset the confusion, mistrust, and hate, not with fire-and-brimstone threats, but secure in God's promises, that there is still hope in the world through faith in Christ Jesus...

...remain cordial and inquire (rather challenge and judge) in a world that needs to get a grip...

...be living proof that an existence with God is more fulfilling than an existence without God...

...simply proclaim the Grace, Mercy, and Love of a God who is not at all distant, but who comes to us (not the other way around)...

...listen, then apologize.

Let the launch sequence begin. :)

(Assuming that I passed my Greek final exam, that is!)

Ugly art rain delay...

“If I were hungry, I would not tell you,
for the world and its fullness are mine.
Do I eat the flesh of bulls
or drink the blood of goats?
Offer to God a sacrifice of thanksgiving,
and perform your vows to the Most High,
and call upon me in the day of trouble;
I will deliver you, and you shall glorify me.” (Psalm 50:12-15 ESV)

So I had planned to snap a picture of the hideous objet d'art that lies in wait to prey upon the sensibility of unsuspecting passers-by along a path through an otherwise very pastoral setting on the Indiana Purdue campus. But it's been raining this morning, so I'll post it next week... In the meantime, here's another picture (above) from where we typically begin (my walk/her run) at the pedestrian bridge over the St. Joseph on the campus. The bridge goes to a very pretty, manicured stretch of path that then becomes the trail north to the park (about 2 miles away) where we also start out sometimes. (I have to admit, that iPhone 5 takes pretty good pictures!)

Well. It HAS been a week, brothers and sisters. 

Monday my wife left me. Tuesday Synchrony Bank called me to report that some sleaze took my Walmart Mastercard account number on a pricey restaurant and shopping binge through Miami, then my new Ft. Wayne dentist told me that I need to have a back molar pulled because of an impacted wisdom tooth issue that's been causing me pain. Other than a nasty, post-nasal-drippy sore throat that I woke up with,Wednesday passed without incident. Thursday I chanted part of a Psalm 50 (at top) in front of my Greek classmates for our campus cantors as the first step toward my Liturgics class which starts in the fall. And yesterday we finished chapter 42 of a 42-chapter college-level Greek textbook (42 chapters in 9 weeks! 28 quizzes! 2 mid-term exams! And I managed to stay above an 80 average!)... But there's even bigger news from yesterday...

At my wife's panic, I went out in a driving rain to search for Colby (the cat) who, so we thought, was in the woods nearby. I got soaked right down to my BVDs, but the Prince of Pacanne Court suffered nary a raindrop upon his little cat head...because he was sleeping under our bed. But that's not the bigger news. My wife grabbed an umbrella to join the search and hollered from a distance that... that... that...

There were birds at my bird feeder!! Finally! After two whole months, a small squad of goldfinches had discovered the mother lode. When we came in, I wanted to get a picture through the window-- only the little piggy bird in the image (click it to see him more clearly) was still there, chowin' down like he (or she-- goldfinch males and females can look similar, except for a breeding male which is bright yellow with black wings and black spot on his head) hadn't eaten in weeks. 

Okay, I'll clarify the "my wife left me" thing for those of you just tuning in. The cat and I were batchin' it for the week while my wife was away on business. So, she really did leave me. (sniff!)

Next week my Greek course ends (Thursday, after the final exam, woo-hoo!). Monday it's back to the dentist...then after a two-week respite, it's back to the books with a full course load for the fall quarter which runs through the second week of November.

So no death march this morning... Seems odd to have had so much "free" time on my hands in the early Saturday hours!

Be back again soon-- next Saturday, if not before...

С Богом!

Another Hoosier Mystery

This is a view through the trees during this morning's death walk, around 7am, which took me again through the Indiana-Purdue campus, mostly along the St. Joseph River, then out along an entry road onto the campus. I walked to the end of the path (a busy city street), at which point I caught sight of an odd-looking statue (pictured at left) off by itself near a patch of very large evergreen trees. It is labeled "The Contenders" and is dated March 1979. It almost mistakenly depicts a much smaller than life-size couple (or...perhaps they were only 4' tall...ha!) wearing 1970s-style clothing, standing back-to-back and holding hands; the woman is gripping with her left hand what at first looked to me like a phaser from Star Trek-- I did a little digging and it's supposed to be a staple gun. It really is a weird little statue, with an even weirder inscription:

"All of us look for an arena in which we can

fairly and proudly contend…..

We are here to pick our arena and to train
for the day we can contend in it…."

I found this statue mentioned in a 2007 news release on the IPFW website, which really doesn't answer the many questions I have about it. More peculiar is that this statue stands mere feet from an odd, large headstone-like marker which apparently marks the spot of the cemetery of the Fort Wayne State Hospital and Training Center, which was there from 1901-1967, yet there are no other discernible vestiges of a graveyard to be found (here's a picture).

Just below the marker is a bronze plate inscribed with this morose message:

"There is a day of sunny rest

For every dark and troubled night

And grief may bide an evening guest

But joy shall come with every light. 

God hath marked each sorrowing day

And numbered every secret tear. 

And heaven’s long age of bliss shall pay

For all His children suffer here. 

From ‘Comfort’ by William Cullen Bryant"

Next Saturday I'll get a picture of the monstrosity someone claims as art that is so ugly it startled me on an otherwise serene and idyllic path through the flora along the river on the IPFW campus. I've dubbed that section of my walk "ugly art curve" (and actually, this thing is so ugly I had to look at it for a more than a few seconds to figure out what it was). Anyway. It (maybe it has a name, I'll see) will be next week's blog centerfold, so stay tuned.

Tomorrow I'll be left alone with the cat and to my own devices again-- we'll be batchin' it through Friday because of a business trip (back to Minneapolis)... 

That's it for now.

С Богом!

I realized today that I have never been...

...a full-time student (beyond high school). Beginning next month, I will find out what it's like. The textbook stack is 14 high now; I think I have them all... I'm not really sure.

Today is the end of Week 8 of Greek. Nine more actual classes-- the final is a week from next Thursday. It's been fast and furious, but I'm still hangin' in there (I think I have an 84 average)!

A quick aside (really a non sequitur): Ft. Wayne was in the headlines twice today. Once for being named the city in the U.S. with the lowest cost of living and the annual North American Scrabble Championship starts here tomorrow (I wish I were still playing!).

Anyway. TGIF! I'm brain-dead(er)...

More tomorrow after our weekly death march.

С Богом!

The fall semester looms large on the horizon...

The textbooks have begun arriving, just like the robins of spring. And this isn't even all of them:














And won't I be the envy of all my classmates when they see my Gunsmoke lunchbox:

An odd coincidence*...

Now by chance* a priest was going down that road, and when he saw him he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. (Luke 10:31-32 ESV)

Stupid post title. I don't believe in coincidences, though from mere mortal perspective they seem real enough...like miracles...

Anyway.

I met with the pastor of the church we have visited over the last two weeks to feel out the possibility of doing my field work assignment there-- we chatted for an hour in his office. I really like him. He got the Reader's Digest version of my past experiences and didn't flinch, develop a facial tic, or nod off. So it looks good, with seminary approval, of course, but I think that's going to happen.

Anyway.

This pastor was in the same St. Louis seminary class as our pastor back in Texas, who had mentioned to me that he was in the same class as the pastor of our previous Texas congregation. I don't know how many more of them are left as rostered pastors, but I told my Texas pastor that I'm going to make it my life's work to meet them all. Two out of the three are Bills; counting the senior pastor who retired from our Texas congregation last summer, I now know 3 Pastor Bills.

Anyway.

God simply refuses to remain hidden in my life. His fingerprints are everywhere...

*I'm still an unpaid amateur, but now I can read a lot of the New Testament in Greek. The verse above begins with the phrase κατὰ συγκυρίαν (κατὰ συγκυρίαν δὲ ἱερεύς τις κατέβαινεν ἐν τῇ ὁδῷ ἐκείνῃ καὶ ἰδὼν αὐτὸν ἀντιπαρῆλθεν.), which means "by coincidence" and is translated as "by chance" in the ESV.

P.S. Yesterday my Greek classmates and I "oiled" the pews in the chapel (went over the wood with Old English) after having cleaned them on Monday. It's a tradition, they told us... Just another bullet on my resume, I reckon...

P.P.S. Interesting coincidence factoid from GotQuestions.org (to support my opening paragraph above): The word coincidence is used only once in the New Testament, and it was by Jesus Himself in the parable of the Good Samaritan. In Luke 10:31, Jesus said, “And by a coincidence a certain priest was going down in that way, and having seen him, he passed over on the opposite side.” The word coincidence is translated from the Greek word synkyrian, which is a combination of two words: sun and kurios. Sun means “together with,” and kurious means “supreme in authority.” So a biblical definition of coincidence would be “what occurs together by God’s providential arrangement of circumstances.”

I'm adopted!

There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. (Galatians 3:28 ESV)

Yesterday I was informed by the seminary that I have been adopted by the Women's Guild in a congregation near Detroit through the Adopt-A-Seminarian program-- area (well, I suppose from anywhere, really) churches can support men studying in the seminary spiritually and financially, though I'm not sure how the program works exactly. I wrote to them yesterday afternoon and introduced myself (and thanked them for picking me from the litter).

Closer to home, I will be visiting with the pastor of the church we've visited over the last two weeks (see last Thursday's post) tomorrow afternoon to talk about the possibility of being assigned there for my Field Work requirement, which runs the academic year (through May). I have a good feeling about it...

Only 2½ more weeks to go! Then a two-week break!!

P.S. If I had the power to do so, I would outlaw hyphenated American labels; since I cannot, I may start referring to myself and the many others of my particular confessional persuasion as "Lutheran-American." Apparently in this country it's positively de rigueur to let everyone else know what team you're on.

If only...

I had to laugh when I saw this Pearls Before Swine strip in the Sunday comics (what a great idea!):

And this morning's Ft. Wayne Journal Gazette ran a story from the Washington Post on an app called Pooper: App summons someone to clean up after your dog The reporter who wrote the article is going to get her scoop pooped on for sure: Fake poop-scooper app shows how gullible (and desperate) we truly are

Happy Monday!