Thursday, July 27, 2006

Comments and commenters: minor pet peeves

The first thing I want to say, loud and clear, is that the Comment feature has proven to be a delightful surprise to me, both here and at Pyro.

I initiated it here with great cowardi...er, trepidations. The Comments feature was the aspect of joining Pyro that worried me most. I'd seen better folks than I driven to desperation by their Comments section.

Now, many months later, the comment sections has more often than not proven to be one of the most rewarding and fun aspects of both blogs. I've been blessed with some awfully sharp, kind, open, encouraging, challenging, and stimulating readers.

Having said that, I have picked up some pet peeves. These are the little bones in the big fish. They are the causes of whatever chagrin I feel in the endeavor. But here are the ones on my mind at the moment, in no particular order:

  1. Trolls. Phil has a great rule: Don't feed the trolls. They come in with an agenda unrelated to the post or the site or, often, anything other than their own febrile little brains. Happily, I've not seen too many, here or at Pyro.
  2. Boilerplate commenters. You know them. There have been a lot of these at both sites. They glance over a post, say to themselves, "Oh, this is about The Gifts. He's a cessationist. Here's what I always like to say when a cessationist writes about The Gifts." Then they just say it, blat. It's apparent by their comments that they haven't read the post at all. Or worse still, sometimes my buds Phil and Frank get people who evidently say, "Oh, it's Phil Johnson / Frank Turk. Here's what I always like to say when Phil/Frank writes anything." Blat. (I'll lump one more comment about them in the next item.)
  3. Lazy readers. Now, here's something you may have noticed about my style of writing. I try (note emphasis) to write in a very focused and almost pathologically cautious way. I try to anticipate how I may be read, and misread. To a small degree, this is because I am a cautious and meticulous scholar. Mostly, it is because I am motivated by fear. I hate being misread, and I especially hate it when it's my fault. I also hate when someone goes on some dumb rabbit-trail when I'm trying to talk about something I think is Important. So I try to anticipate the rabbit-trails, and cut them off.

    Well, lazy readers and boilerplaters don't notice or care about any of this. Sometimes it's sadly funny, always it's frustrating, sometimes it's maddening.

    There was one guy who took great umbrage at something I wrote. He made a comment of like 900,000 words. Now, I'm fifty years old, and wasn't certain I'd live long enough to read it all. There are other things I want to do before I die. So I glanced. Immediately I saw that he trotted out some tired old cliche that I had already specifically anticipated and responded to in the post. This immediately communicated to me that -- for me -- his comment wasn't worth a read, let alone a reply. (I suppose I could have done as done to, and just spurted a retort without actually reading it, but that wouldn't be very Golden Ruley of me.)

    The most irritating thing about lazy readers is that they commonly misread, or read very poorly, then demand that you reply to something you already covered in the article. If they would give it a more thoughtful and, dare I say, respectful read, they would learn this. But they don't. You may have written oh-so-carefully, yet they read poorly and lazily, and they feel it's your responsibility to compensate for their doltish sluggardliness.

    Now, let me be very clear. I do not include in this those cases where I really have been unclear. I'm always appalled at myself, and grateful to the commenter, when someone points out some pinheaded misstatement of mine. I race to clarify just as quickly as I can. Nor am I speaking of cases of inadvertent and non-culpable misreading -- for instance in the case of a new or ill-taught believer, or someone with a genuine learning disability.

    The folks of whom I write would insist that they fall in neither category. The problem, they would adamantly contend, is yours (mine), and it is your (my) responsibility to solve it. For them. To their satisfaction. On their timetable.

    ("Or what?", one wonders. They'll demand their money back?)

  4. Stubborn lazy readers. These are people who do all of the above, plus. Perhaps you patiently -- or not very patiently, but pointedly -- point out their oversight. Or you point out that you specifically announced the scope of your post, and their challenge is not within that scope. You've written about sovereign-grace election, and they fault you for not proving the Virgin Birth. Or you announce your intent to deal with one aspect of forensic justification, and they rail at you for not having read everything N. T. Wright ever wrote from his kindergarten years and onward. Or (as in my recent posts at Pyro) you announce that you're responding to something a particular and beloved charismatic wrote, and they pronounce that you haven't proven cessationism. And so on.

    So, as I say, you point any or all of this out, and refer them back to the post. Do they say, "Oh, right, my bad! Well, maybe you can get to my subject someday"? No, no no no. Not these folks. They either don't reply, or repeat themselves. But they're not as bad as....

  5. Stubborn and argumentative lazy readers. They're like ##4 and 5, plus-plus. They don't listen to A, but demand that you write B -- with no guarantees they'll listen to B and better than they listened to A. In fact, once you write B, they demand C.

    So, you've worked really hard to craft a clear statement of what you want to say. They skim over it like a flat stone skipping across the surface of a lake. You point this out, and ask that they re-read more slowly and thoughtfully. If they do, they'll find their answer -- if they really want an answer.

    Now, time out for a brief aside. Between you and me, who is likelier to know the contents of a post, article, essay, book? The reader, or the author? If I eat something, then challenge the chef, "You really need to put some garlic in this," and she replies, "I did put some garlic in," does it make sense for me to say, "Yeah, but you really ought to put some garlic in it?" Doesn't that make me look doltish?

    Well, that makes sense to me, but I can't tell you how many times I've gotten into this. I don't get very far in, though. When I realize, "Ooh, I have a lazy and stubborn and argumentative reader/correspondent," I bail out. Life's too short, I'm too old, and I'm a poor enough time-manager as it is to pour my life into these little patches of the Sahara. They can be someone else's Special Project. Thank God, I do have some folks patient enough to read attentively, and by God's grace I seem to do them some good, so I'll just focus my efforts on them.

    Which of course infuriates the lazy, stubborn, argumentative readers. But oh, well. Can't please everybody.

To all the above, I commend this these verses for careful consideration:

If one gives an answer before he hears,
it is his folly and shame.
Proverbs 18:13

Do you see a man who is hasty in his words?
There is more hope for a fool than for him.
Proverbs 29:20

And to the rest of you, who are (praise God) the majority -- THANKS.

Thursday, July 20, 2006

Kitties: take two

OK, remember -- this is because Robert asked for it. I tried this morning, and the technology outsmarted me. But here we are.




Okay, that's enough kitties for now. Next scheduled post is back to the usual unusual.

Okay, okay... I GET it now!

When Annette said she didn't see any kitties, she wasn't saying they didn't look like kitties -- she was saying there WERE NO kitties. I'm slow, but I get there eventually.

I was fooled by a Picasa / Blogger interface thingie I didn't understand, that made it so I could see the pictures, but nobody else could. Same thing happened with today's Pyro post, which I've had to un-publish and re-publish about a kajillion times.

So... kitties later, DV, after I get home.

Until then, here's an idea of how big Maine Coon kitties can get -- and we think our Hagrid is aiming at this goal.

Monday, July 17, 2006

Thankful Monday

My mood deteriorated over the weekend, mostly for no external reason. I've been dreading this week, because of what's hanging over me at work. Then I start the day after a not-perfect sleep, I stumble here and there, the house-fan cools the house one whopping degree because it's already warming outside (at 4:30am), I step on one of the kitties crouching invisible in the dark, and at 5:45am it's already warmer than I like it to be at noon. And mostly, inside, I just feel immensely unimpressed with myself on any level, most especially on the level of spiritual anything I demonstrate after 33+ years of praying and striving.

(Stepping back.) Okay, let's see... yes, yes that should be just about enough whining for the moment.

So I apologize profusely to the cat (after I chase him down; after all, for all he knows, I've finally snapped and am trying to kill him), make sure he's okay, walk more carefully, pray, and try to look up.

Towards that latter end, here's a (mostly-dead-serious) list of things I'm thankful for:
  1. God's immutable character and commitment to keep His good and bright promises to me in Christ
  2. The fact that #1 depends entirely on Him, and not one bit on me, no matter what a hopeless, clueless loser I am in myself; that Jesus is my Savior, not my co-redeemer; that He elected me, He didn't co-sign for me
  3. I have a spectacularly capable wife
  4. I have terrific children
  5. Great sermon in church yesterday by Pastor Andrews
  6. Then there are the kitties
  7. I have my health -- not bad for an old guy
  8. Bill Clinton still isn't president anymore
  9. Algore and Kerry never were
  10. I have a good job, terrific manager
  11. I work inside, in an air-conditioned building
  12. I don't ever have to make pedobaptism or amillennialism make Biblical sense to anybody!
  13. There still is, on average, only one Monday per week
  14. I have an opportunity to speak to people I'll never meet this side of eternity, both here and at Pyromaniacs
  15. I'm associated with excellent people, in my family, at Pyro, and at work
There. That's better!

Friday, July 14, 2006

A beautiful and sensitive essay on why parents had their daughter killed for MAYBE being imperfect

No, really. It is just that bad. Read it for yourself.

DISCLAIMER: I have great sympathy for parents who find themselves with an unexpected child at a rough time, or a child who may have "birth defects," though neither has ever happened to us. We had our last child when I was about 43; we knew that the statistical chances for "issues" mount with each year, so we discussed it. It was a fairly short discussion. If God wanted us to have a child with issues, the odds were 100% that we would; if He didn't, they would be 100% that we wouldn't. Either way, you just do not kill a child for being imperfect. So when we were offered the opportunity for testing, we asked for clarification as to the intent, and declined.

So I sympathize with parents in that state. I also sympathize with parents who have difficult children (-- although, of course, all mine were perfectly-behaved angels from their first breath on, just as surely as I've always been a perfect father).

I do not, however, sympathize with the decision to kill such children, nor with the rationalizations with which such decisions are whitewashed. So, having said that....

COMMENT: I have often remarked that I have never yet read a pro-abort who can make a coherent, rational, factual, moral case for killing children because they are imperfect or inconvenient, or because they have a bad parent.

This essay brings the total up to zero.

It offers some of the most excruciating... well, I hesitate to elevate it to the level of calling it "thinking." I suppose "rationalizing" would be better, though the element "rational" isn't merited. The woman is explaining why it was a good thing for her and her husband to contract the killing of their daughter because she might be a little imperfect.

It starts out like this:
A tear creeps down my cheek when she says it's a girl. I don't know why that makes me cry.
Um... because you're about to kill her, and you still have some shred of conscience? Just a guess.
I'd really rather not know. She assumes that like most expectant parents we want to know.

But as its turning out, we aren't like most expectant parents.

Well no, thank God, that's true. You're actually going to get your daughter killed. Most expectant parents don't do that.

And I can probably tell you why you don't want to know her sex, Ma'am: because of this pesky imago Dei thing, killers have always found it easier to dehumanize their victims. Ask racist lynchers. Ask Nazi guards. It's really not new. You're part of a time-honored tradition amongs oppressors with blood on their hands.

The rest of the essay is no more uplifting. Take this absolute beauty. It's a real window to the couple's thinking:

In many ways my 45-year-old husband and I could be perfect parents. We're professionals, with university degrees, own our own house, it's even paid off (we're financially careful yuppies). We're also fit -- we do Ironman events, marathons, play golf, travel and help support my parents.
Well, heck, whose definition of "perfect parents" doesn't that fit? They've got careers, money, physical fitness -- and hobbies! My gosh, what else is there to being a "perfect parent"?

Well, there is that pesky little you-don't-kill-your-kids-for-being-imperfect bone that got left out of their heads. Some people might think that that is an important attribute.

But, hey! Ironman! How cool is that?

So these "perfect parents" were initially happy to find that they were expecting. But then they learned that a "dreaded extra chromosome -- a triple X -- has robbed us of a healthy baby." Little Brittany might not be an honor student, so she must die. My understanding is that this is not even necessarily the case. But the fact that it might be the case, in this perfect mother's view (Ironman!), demands a death-warrant.

She still is working hard to quiet her conscience. Listen to this: "Isn't it more cruel to bring a child burdened with so many disadvantages into the world?" Well, I don't know. Why not ask your daughter? Oh, wait....

Here's the same thing that comes up with every such line of thought: if this is a rationale for killing an unborn person, it is equally a rationale for killing a born. If a less-than-100% quality of life is a death-sentence one side of the cervix, it equally is such for the other. A few inches don't make that much of a difference, not rationally.

And the mom's concerned about "disadvantages"? How many "disadvantaged" children have gone far in life, due largely to the commitment and undying love of committed parents? Seems to me right now that this poor girl has only one real, big, insurmountable "disadvantage": a selfish, immature, morally-clueless mother. And while it may be a condemning "disadvantage," it isn't the child on whom the guilt falls.

But she cried about it, we read; so that means she's a decent person. Her religious, pro-life mother would forgive her... she thinks. But she's not going to tell her and find out. Hmm; maybe Mom wouldn't be so sanguine about her granddaughter being killed after all....

The lady does have regrets and blame, though.

But not for herself!

No, here's who she's really mad at:
Why can't we just go to the nearest hospital? I hate the sanctimonious people who have made this more difficult than it has to be. No one begrudges couples thwarting God's plan by spending tens of thousands of dollars on fertility drugs, in vitro treatments, donor eggs, sperm, and surrogate mothers -- they get sympathy. But if you don't want to keep a seriously flawed baby, you bundle your pain in guilt and shame.
Wow. Where to start? It's just awful that people stand between her baby and its killer. It's just awful that they make the killing inconvenient.

But note what she says: "...if you don't want to keep a seriously flawed baby...."

Oopsie.

Yes, Ma'am. That's right. She was a baby. But because she wasn't perfect (like you and Mr. Ironman), she had to die.

The final words of the essay:

His work sends flowers to me: his wife who had a miscarriage.

That's what we tell our friends and parents as well.

It was the right decision. It was the right decision. It was the right decision. It was the right decision.

But... let's just lie to Mom, Dad, and our friends, 'kay?

But it was the right decision. Just keep saying that. It was the right decision.

When we sin, we all have basically two options: forgiveness, or not. If you're saying it's not a sin, it can't be forgiven. Only sins can be forgiven, and they can only be forgiven through and because of Jesus Christ (Acts 13:38-39).

Rationalization kills. In this case, it is killing more than one.

Monday, July 10, 2006

The beauty of God's creation in California's Eastern Sierra Nevada

I spent a few days in the Bishop/Mammoth Lakes area of California's Eastern Sierra Nevada. I've loved this area since I was maybe five years old, when coffee was five cents a cup, and gas was... well, let's not go there.

I've taken many solo retreats there as a bachelor, my wife and I honeymooned in that area, I've brought all my kids there as many times as I could. I've tried to teach them to love it, as I caught that love from my father.

Here are just a few of the photographs I took. Mouse-over for captions, and click on the picture for fuller views.


Monday, July 03, 2006

Training Husbands -- your thoughts?

To prove that I can occasionally post briefly, I refer you to What Shamu Taught Me About a Happy Marriage (h-t CraigS), and I invite your comments. My thoughts actually go in a few directions on this one; I'm interested in yours.

Sorry that (A) it's the New York Times, and (B) registration is required. Maybe you can find it elsewhere, or use www.bugmenot.com, if you don't want to do the free registration.