Goodness and Mercy

Goodness and mercy are of the essence of God. They are foundational to his character as revealed to us thru the witness of scripture, and the incarnate Word, Jesus Christ: "the exact imprint of his [God's] nature" (Heb. 1:3). The Psalmist artfully personifies, and makes personal, God's goodness and mercy in the closing of Psalm 23.

"Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever."

Here David expresses a confident belief (surely!) that he's hemmed in by goodness and mercy. Douglas MacMillan illustrates this with a story he once heard told by a Scottish Highland preacher. I love this!

I remember listening to an old Highland shepherd, an elder, preaching on this verse. He was only an old shepherd, not a fancy theologian, but he was wonderful. He said, 'What do I think of when I think of goodness and mercy? I think of the fellows taking the sheep home, walking down the road there with their sticks. The sheep are coming behind them, and behind the sheep are the two dogs, and one is called Goodness and the other is called Mercy.' He said, 'You watch them; sheep being what they are, when the shepherd's back is turned, they'll try and sneak off the road. You see a sheep on one side, and off it goes trying to get back to the pasture and the mountains. Without even the shepherd whistling, what happens? Goodness runs out and circles the sheep and turns it back into the flock and into the path of God. Then, a little further along the road,' he said, 'another one will do the same, or two or three will do it, and there you will see Mercy running out and turning the sheep back too. Ah!', he said, 'they are two lovely dogs, Goodness and Mercy.' I think if I was still shepherding, and I still had two dogs, I would call one Goodness and I would call the other Mercy, because it's a very true picture. . . . We deserve nothing but His wrath, and yet daily His goodness and His mercy are following us. David says that they follow us 'all the days of our lives'.

Where would we be if not for divine goodness and mercy?


Quote from The Lord Our Shepherd (pp. 82-3)

Gambling and social justice

Russell Moore arguing that legalized gambling (casino and otherwise) isn't primarily a moral issue. . .

But gambling isn’t merely a “values” issue. Neither is it primarily a “moral” issue, at least not in terms of what we typically classify as “moral values” issues. Gambling isn’t primarily a question of personal vice. If it were, we could simply ask our people to avoid the lottery tickets and horse-tracks, but leave it legal. Gambling is a social justice issue that defines how it is that we love our neighbors and uphold the common good.

Gambling is a form of economic predation. Gambling grinds the faces of the poor into the ground. It benefits multinational corporations while oppressing the lower classes with illusory promises of wealth, and with (typically) low-wage, transitory jobs that simultaneously destroy every other economic engine of a local community.

In the end, the casinos will leave. And they’ll leave behind a burned-over district with no thriving agricultural, manufacturing, or tourism economies. In the meantime, they leave behind the wreckage of “check-to-cash” loan sharks, pawn shops, prostitution, and 1-2-3 divorce courts.

Conservative Christians can’t talk about gambling, if we don’t see the bigger picture.

Moore goes on to write that the best way for Christians to undercut the appeal of gambling is to faithfully and compassionately preach the gospel to those vulnerable to the allure of the slots. Read the whole thing!

On a related note I'm not surprised to see that the billionaire bankrolling Newt Gingrich's campaign is a casino magnate. How telling that he's prepared to spend millions to stop Rick Santorum because he doesn't like the Pennsylvanian's social conservatism. I wonder how those South Carolina voters that gave Gingrich his big moment in the sun feel about that? Say what you will about Santorum, he's a principled conservative in the traditional sense of that oft-corrupted word. I'd love to see him debate the President on some of the major social issues that divide our country right down the middle, issues of more lasting significance than budgets and taxes (though budgets and taxes can effect those issues).

As Ross Douthat wrote recently:

From election to election, politics is mostly about jobs and the economy and the state of the public purse — which is as it should be. But the arguments that we remember longest, that define what it means to be democratic and American, are often the debates over human life and human rights, public morals and religious freedom – culture war debates, that is, in all their many forms.

1984 or Brave New World? (Postman on Orwell & Huxley)

Neil Postman:

What Orwell feared were those who would ban books. What Huxley feared was that there would be no reason to ban a book, for there would be no one who wanted to read one. Orwell feared those who would deprive us of information. Huxley feared those who would give us so much that we would be reduced to passivity and egoism. Orwell feared that the truth would be concealed from us. Huxley feared the truth would be drowned in a sea of irrelevance. Orwell feared we would become a captive culture. Huxley feared we would become a trivial culture, preoccupied with some equivalent of the feelies, the orgy porgy, and the centrifugal bumblepuppy. As Huxley remarked in Brave New World Revisited, the civil libertarians and rationalists who are ever on the alert to oppose tyranny "failed to take into account man's almost infinite appetite for distraction." In 1984, Huxley added, people are controlled by inflicting pain. In Brave New World, they are controlled by inflicting pleasure. In short, Orwell feared that what we hate will ruin us. Huxley feared that what we love will ruin us.

That is a quote worth reading twice. It's from Postman's 1985 book Amusing Ourselves to Death: Public Discourse in an Age of Show Business (Introduction, pp. vii-viii). Who was more prophetic? Orwell or Huxley? Postman saw Huxley as the more prophetic as he surveyed the state of Western society in the mid-80s -- a society where a voracious appetite for entertainment collided with an unprecedented explosion of information. I don't know if he invented the term "infotainment" but he should have.

Fast forward to 2012 and Huxley (and Postman) looks even more prophetic. It's been a few decades since we've gone from a predominantly word-based society to one based predominantly on images. To take one minor example: compare the average mass-market periodical from the 19th or early-20th century with what you find in the waiting room of your doctor's office -- glossy fare comprised of image after image, advertisement after advertisement, perfect for mindlessly flipping through to ward off the boredom.

It's not that people have stopped reading books, but increasingly they are merely entertainment filler to pass the time while getting from Point A to Point B. The practical effect described by Huxley may be the same though. I'm someone who values images as much as the next guy. I love cinema! But if that wasn't counterbalanced by a love and appetite for the written word I'd be much the poorer spiritually, intellectually and emotionally.

More importantly, as someone who loves Christ's church, I have to wonder: how much has she given in to the privileging of images over words? Images can be a powerful tool to convey truths about God and his world, but God has chosen to reveal himself to us primarily through words, and the Word, Jesus. Plus the Bible takes a dim view of images as they relate to God, and worship that pleases him (see the Second Commandment, etc). Images can point us to the gospel, but we still need words to convey it's content. Hopefully we haven't lost the ability to proclaim it and receive it. May it never be said of the church, as Huxley feared for society at large, that truth is being "drowned in a sea of irrelevance."

Like. Tears. In rain.

If this was one of those "what's been going on in my life lately" kind of blogs I'd have a lot to write. Instead, a perfect storm of challenging assignments and circumstances in my home/work/church life has lately afforded me little time to indulge my hobbies, one of which is this blog.

Watching movies is one of the ways I stay sane, so your correspondent did find time recently to revisit old favorite Blade Runner. I was again reminded what a satisfyingly unsatisfying film it is. The enigma at its heart is one that (probably) can't be solved, but keeps you coming back to try. For my money Blade Runner has one of the most memorable ending monologues in cinema history. It's voiced by Rutger Hauer playing genetically engineered "replicant" Roy Batty. Reportedly Hauer improvised the now legendary lines. His unconventional delivery and pacing, director of photography Jordan Cronenweth's visuals, and Vangelis' beautiful score all contribute to the genius of this scene, one that moves me every time I watch it.


Blade Runner (dir. Ridley Scott, 1982)


For a fuller appreciation of Blade Runner check out this 2008 piece from my friend William Andreassen.

Incarnation

"I shared in the image of God, but did not keep it safe; the Lord shares in my flesh, so as to save the image and to make the flesh immortal".

- Gregory of Nazianzus (Oration 38)

I shall not want

There are only two negatives in the Twenty-Third Psalm. "I shall not want" and "I will fear no evil". Yet, we're prone to doing just those things the Psalmist says he won't do -- living in fear, and wanting what we don't have. If we are the Lord's sheep we have all we need to live confident contented lives.

What exactly does it mean to "not want"? Certainly part of the meaning is that we'll lack for nothing, but it's more than that. It's easy to miss the plain meaning of the word "want". Here's more from Douglas MacMillan's exposition of Psalm 23 . . .

. . . this word means more than mere lack: it means just what the word 'want' originally meant. It means that I will not be discontented with my lot; I will not be hungering and craving after things that God has forbidden me, because I will find my all, my fulness, in the One who is my Shepherd. My knowledge that I shall suffer no lack will give me contentment . . . . One of the things which is fundamental to the whole business and profession of a shepherd is this: enough passion to see that his sheep will have all that they need, and enough sense to see that they will not get what will harm or destroy them. That is the kind of shepherd, and that is the kind of satisfaction, that the Christian believer finds in Christ. 'I shall not want.'

MacMillan suggests that when we find contentment and satisfaction in Christ lacking -- when we find ourselves wanting -- it's because our eyes have been drawn away from the promises of God's Word. He encourages the reader to "use your Scripture, allow God to fortress and garrison your heart with the great strength of His promises and of His logical grace."

Another way to stay close to our shepherd is to stay close to his flock. Christian fellowship and regular attention to the ordinary means of grace (the reading and preaching of the word, prayer, and the sacraments) are the things that keep us anchored to our hope in Christ (Heb. 6:19).


Quotes from J. Douglas MacMillan, The Lord Our Shepherd (pp. 50-1)

Phil Connors' Groundhog Day prediction

Here's a classic clip to get you in the mood for Groundhog Day. And happy birthday to my mother-in-law who was born in Punxsutawney, PA. No kidding!


Groundhog Day (dir. Harold Ramis, 1993)

More classic Machen

The stirring conclusion to the chapter simply titled "Christ" from Christianity and Liberalism:

The liberal Jesus, despite all the efforts of modern psychological reconstruction to galvanize Him into life, remains a manufactured figure of the stage. Very different is the Jesus of the New Testament and of the great Scriptural creeds. That Jesus is indeed mysterious. Who can fathom the mystery of His Person? But the mystery is a mystery in which a man can rest. The Jesus of the New Testament has at least one advantage over the Jesus of modern reconstruction—He is real. He is not a manufactured figure suitable as a point of support for ethical maxims, but a genuine Person whom a man can love. Men have loved Him through all the Christian centuries. And the strange thing is that despite all the efforts to remove Him from the pages of history, there are those who love Him still. (p. 116)

Parenting in the Pew

If you're a Christian parent of young kids I highly recommend Parenting in the Pew by mother and pastor's wife Robbie Castleman. As with any book on parenting there are a few things I have reservations about, but I wholeheartedly endorse the main thrust, which is that training our children how to worship is a Christian parent's most important job. Worship is the one thing we get to do for all eternity.

Our oldest son is almost three, and at the point where my wife and I want to begin exposing him to what goes on in "big church." We want to begin exposing him to the rhythm of worship as expressed in the songs, creeds, and prayers of God's people. It's amazing how much he picks up! Needless to say to those who have experience with the Pre-K years, there are some big challenges to this. Honestly, it's much easier to drop him off at the nursery with his baby brother instead of struggling to keep him quiet and reasonably contained in a pew. Not only that our "worship experience" is much better without the distraction. But, and here we get to one of Castleman's best insights, that attitude betrays a typical contemporary mindset that worship is primarily for my benefit.

Here is how she explains it:

There is a big difference between worship B.C. and worship A.D.—worship "before children" and worship "after diapers"! I have heard more than a few parents confess, "I used to get more out of church before I had kids."

But the bigger issue is, what does God get out of worship? Worship is good for God. Worship concerns itself with his pleasure, his benefit, his good. Worship is the exercise of our souls in blessing God. In the Psalms we read or sing, "Bless the Lord, O my soul!" However, our chief concern is usually "Bless my soul, O Lord!" (p. 23)

Children can infringe on our worship experience. I know more than a few parents who have resented the distractions ushered into the pew by the presence of their children. Many just give up. However, children do not have to interfere with God's experience of worship! Worship is first a blessing to God, and he values the presence and praise of children (Matthew 18:14; Mark 10:14; Luke 18:16). (p. 24)

Castleman suggests that often our reluctance to include children in worship is because we're worried about how their behavior will reflect on us as parents. While not minimizing the importance of teaching our kids how to be quiet in church, the highest priority is teaching them how to worship in church. Many adults learned how to be quiet in church, but they never learned to worship. No wonder so many of our worship services are cold and lifeless!

I really appreciated this book's focus on keeping children, even young ones, with their parents as much as possible during Lord's Day worship. This goes for the teenage years too, when your kids might rather sit with their friends than with you. Castleman isn't totally against children's church, but I think she calls it like it is when she writes: "Too many children's churches are cut-and-paste times to keep children occupied until the adult service is over." Instead, Sunday School and children's church should be "designed to train children in worship." (p. 60)

Sprinkled throughout this warmly written book are anecdotes from Castleman's own experience of parenting her two sons in the pew. Reading this book has inspired me to try and do the same with my two sons, despite the potential for frustration it could bring. Here's one more quote. . .

Parenting in the pew can be a hassle. Or it can be holy. It depends on who we are and how we see ourselves. Do we sit with our children "in church" or "in worship"? (p. 30)

Soccer is boring (and I love it)

Brian Phillips gives one of the best descriptions of soccer you'll ever read. . .

There are two reasons, basically, why soccer lends itself to spectatorial boredom. One is that the game is mercilessly hard to play at a high level. (You know, what with the whole "maneuver a small ball via precisely coordinated spontaneous group movement with 10 other people on a huge field while 11 guys try to knock it away from you, and oh, by the way, you can't use your arms and hands" element.) The other is that the gameplay almost never stops — it's a near-continuous flow for 45-plus minutes at a stretch, with only very occasional resets. Combine those two factors and you have a game that's uniquely adapted for long periods of play where, say, the first team's winger goes airborne to bring down a goal kick, but he jumps a little too soon, so the ball kind of kachunks off one side of his face, then the second team's fullback gets control of it, and he sees his attacking midfielder lurking unmarked in the center of the pitch, so he kludges the ball 20 yards upfield, but by the time it gets there the first team's holding midfielder has already closed him down and gone in for a rough tackle, and while the first team's attacking midfielder is rolling around on the ground the second team's right back runs onto the loose ball, only he's being harassed by two defenders, so he tries to knock it ahead and slip through them, but one of them gets a foot to it, so the ball sproings up in the air … etc., etc., etc. Both teams have carefully worked-out tactical plans that influence everything they're trying to do. But the gameplay is so relentless that it can't help but go through these periodic bouts of semi-decomposition.

But — and here's the obvious answer to the "Why are we doing this?" question — those same two qualities, difficulty and fluidity, also mean that soccer is uniquely adapted to produce moments of awesome visual beauty. Variables converge. Players discover solutions to problems it would be impossible to summarize without math. . . . In sports, pure chaos is boring. Soccer gives players more chaos to contend with than any other major sport. So there's something uniquely thrilling about the moments when they manage to impose their own order on it.

Phillips notes that the Big 3 of American team sports have rules that limit the amount of chaos players have to contend with ("baseball constantly resets to the same starting position, football does the same while adding 29,384 rules about who can and can't do what on which plays, basketball breaks itself into discrete timed segments, etc."). I'm a fan of all three -- and all three have their own unique charms and potential to amaze -- but speaking as a fairly recent soccer-loving convert those sports don't get inside your head like soccer does. Which is why the only football I'll be sitting down to watch this weekend is played on a pitch with a spherical ball. Bring on the boredom!