Pray for my church

They've got some self-taught, out-of-practice, no-talent hack guy to play drums in the worship services today.

In stark contrast with the usual drummer, who is none of those things. Except he is a guy.

"Evangelical" youth shame Christ's name, reportedly

According to this article in the Washington Post, the percentage of evangelical teens who honor God in the sexual arena doesn't differ much from "mainline" Protestants.

Now, many things about the article are not crystal-clear to me: how the major terms are defined, how the test was conducted, and so forth. Take this statement: "Twelve percent of churchgoing evangelicals have children out of wedlock, compared with 33 percent of all mothers." Does that include those who sin against God by having sex and conceiving out of wedlock, but marry before birth?

Plus, well, it's the Washington Post. So it starts out with credibility issues.

At any rate, a few things do seem to stand out.

The term "evangelical" continues to mean less and less. "Evangelical" used to mean an affirmation of the Gospel, which included embracing the full authority of Christ's voice as heard in Scripture alone. Obviously, remaining sexually chaste until a marriage recognized by Divine institutions (church, state, family) is part of the praxis of that faith.

It should be that the sexual mores of professors of that faith should stand in stark contrast to their worldling friends and neighbors. The sexual drive is very strong. Without transcendent morality, there is no reason not to find a way to indulge it freely.

The converse however is also true: with the transcendent morality of the Bible, there is every reason to embrace God's better plan of purity.

You see, this is always where the truth of our hearts shows itself: in what we do when God's will crosses ours. For instance, God urges us to eat and enjoy from His good creation (1 Timothy 4:3). When I gladly indulge my natural appetite, it is no great indication of my faith to do so.

However, when God crosses one of my drives — when He says (in effect) "The sexual drive I have given you is a good drive, and you should enjoy it...within, and only within, the bonds of marriage. All other is repulsive to Me. And since you are to love Me above all, that has to matter to you" — that comprises a test. If I have the opportunity to indulge that drive, and refuse to do so only because I honor God, I show a genuine reverence for the Word and name of God (James 2:18b).

So sociologists should see a stark difference between the morality of the general public, or the liberal Protestant public, and that of genuine evangelicals. But they evidently do not.

And BTW, lest anyone think to tell me "Oh well, sex is the strongest drive, you really can't expect even Christian teens to control it," I have a three-part reply:

1. No, it really isn't.
2. Unless these same teens freely defecate and urinate, in public, and every time the urge strikes them, yes, I can expect them to control that lesser drive.
3. But what I expect doesn't really matter. What God expects is what matters, and what He expects is clear (1 Corinthians 6:18; Hebrews 13:4).

Yes, sin is sin, and sin can be forgiven -- thank God, or I'd have no hope.

But sin also matters. The Cross is not God's way of saying, "Your sin is OK." It is God's way of saying, "Sin is unspeakably horrid, Hell-worthy. Nothing can deal with it except the most extreme measures."

To commit this particular sin, an evangelical kid raised in an evangelical family has to rebel against God on so many levels. His deliberate act states that God's omniscience is inconsequential to him, God's holiness doesn't matter to him, holding the holiness of God's name doesn't matter to him. The soul and conscience of the girl he's using is trivial to him. Honoring his mother and father are down the toilet. The institution of marriage is a formality to him — all Divine institutions (God's speed bumps) are beneath him. He doesn't care whether he's setting an example for his future children. He doesn't care whether he makes a little bastard, giving an innocent bystander child a rough and shameful start to life.

And what of the blood of Christ, shed to deliver him from the guilt, power and service of sin? How is he portraying its preciousness?

It is no trivial matter.

Evidently the word hasn't gotten out to the "evangelical" youths in this study.

Pity.

Just "Wow"

Wife and I just finished Deathly Hallows and... wow.

There will be much discussion here and there. But none by me until I'm reasonably sure everyone who wants to read it, spoiler-free, has had the chance.

Not even risking comments on this one!

Afterthought on the crucial nature of pastoral/Christian suffering

I dwelt recently on how Spurgeon was able to preach as he did, because he suffered greatly, and dealt with it with faith, clinging to the Lord and hungrily looking to His Word for encouragement and help.

This Sunday I am to be preaching on Hebrews 10:19-25, so I am re-reading that magnificent epistle. The writer makes quite a bit of the fact that Jesus was equipped for His own ministry and priesthood by suffering. To wit:

2:18 For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted.

4:14 - 5:2 Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. 15 For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. 16 Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

5:1 For every high priest chosen from among men is appointed to act on behalf of men in relation to God, to offer gifts and sacrifices for sins. 2 He can deal gently with the ignorant and wayward, since he himself is beset with weakness.

5:8 Although he was a son, he learned obedience through what he suffered.

The writer forcefully makes the point that suffering (which many did not [and do not] associate with Messiah) was not only conceivable, but essential. Suffering made Him who He is as a man, and as His people's great high priest.

In saying this, the writer said nothing that was not present in prophetic and typological Scripture, though unbelieving Israelites blinded (and still blind) themselves to it. Perhaps the classic and undeniably Messianic passage is Isaiah 53:3 — "He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not."

So I come back to my previous point. If suffering is essential for pastors — and it is — it is no less essential for Christians at large. After all, what is God's goal for every one of us who are His children through faith in Christ? It is expressed in Romans 8:29 :

For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers.

"Conformed to the image of His son." And what made Christ who He was, in His humanity?

Suffering.

Is there any chance, then, that we can be made like Him, without suffering?

No. None.

"The masterpiece of all the promises"

I have been daily reading Spurgeon's Morning and Evening for some time. It is often a great encouragement, a happy start to the day.

Maybe the best of all of them is his January 9 evening meditation. It runs about my mind through the year.

Spurgeon seizes on the simple phrase "I will be their God," from three words in the Hebrew text of Jeremiah 31:33. The prophet is describing the New Covenant, and says this in God's name:

But this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, declares the LORD: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts. And I will be their God, and they shall be my people.

Spurgeon displays his magnificent ability to plunge his hands deep into the rich stores of gold and rubies, and to scoop up and share what he finds, in his meditation on that phrase. Hear him, and be stirred and moved to rejoice in God's great goodness with him:

Christian! here is all thou canst require. To make thee happy thou wantest something that shall satisfy thee; and is not this enough? If thou canst pour this promise into thy cup, wilt thou not say, with David, “My cup runneth over; I have more than heart can wish”? When this is fulfilled, “I am thy God”, art thou not possessor of all things? Desire is insatiable as death, but he who filleth all in all can fill it. The capacity of our wishes who can measure? but the immeasurable wealth of God can more than overflow it. I ask thee if thou art not complete when God is thine? Dost thou want anything but God? Is not his all-sufficiency enough to satisfy thee if all else should fail? But thou wantest more than quiet satisfaction; thou desirest rapturous delight. Come, soul, here is music fit for heaven in this thy portion, for God is the Maker of Heaven. Not all the music blown from sweet instruments, or drawn from living strings, can yield such melody as this sweet promise, “I will be their God.” Here is a deep sea of bliss, a shoreless ocean of delight; come, bathe thy spirit in it; swim an age, and thou shalt find no shore; dive throughout eternity, and thou shalt find no bottom. “I will be their God.” If this do not make thine eyes sparkle, and thy heart beat high with bliss, then assuredly thy soul is not in a healthy state. But thou wantest more than present delights—thou cravest something concerning which thou mayest exercise hope; and what more canst thou hope for than the fulfilment of this great promise, “I will be their God”? This is the masterpiece of all the promises; its enjoyment makes a heaven below, and will make a heaven above. Dwell in the light of thy Lord, and let thy soul be always ravished with his love. Get out the marrow and fatness which this portion yields thee. Live up to thy privileges, and rejoice with unspeakable joy.

How to stay ahead of the curve

Believe the Bible.

If you have much knowledge of the history of Biblical criticism, you know how many of the chest-thumpingly certain proclamations of its deriders now lie on the ash-heap — such as that the Hittites never existed, that Moses couldn't have written the Pentateuch because there was no alphabet in his day, and yadda yadda yadda.

My first thought when I read about the then-new Jesus Seminar was that it was cutting-edge 19th-century radical German scholarship. The Seminar thrived on the ignorance and philosophical biases of its supporters, and blithely wove historically nihilistic theories as if the previous century of archaeological discovery had never happened. (See more of my thoughts on this, here.)

In so many areas, the person who simply reads and believes the Bible may be behind the curve of the moment in society, but he is far ahead of the curve of the future. The facts always eventually swing around to affirm Biblical teaching.

So once again, a scholar in the British Museum cries out in delight when the translation of a cuneiform table hears out an almost incidental detain in the book of Jeremiah. He says, and I quote, "I think that it means that the whole of the narrative [of Jeremiah] takes on a new kind of power."

Well, no. Not really. "New" to you, maybe; but not new to the millions who have simply taken the narrative at God's Word for millennia. It just means that another discovery verifies the power with which the whole book (and the whole Book) has always spoken.

Do you want to get ahead of the curve, Doc? Believe the rest of it, now.

Brief Spurgeonic word on prayer

Every time Spurgeon says something about prayer — and he does it frequently — I wince. Usually from some sort of conviction, though I do think sometimes he's unwarrantedly expansive on the subject.

In the former category are his remarks in today's devotion on “The fire shall ever be burning upon the altar; it shall never go out” (Leviticus 6:13), which he in classic form applies to private devotion and prayer. And in the course, he says this:

Have you nothing to pray for? Let us suggest the Church, the ministry, your own soul, your children, your relations, your neighbours, your country, and the cause of God and truth throughout the world.

Yeah, ouch, okay, that should do for starters!

Spurgeon also says this:

Let us examine ourselves on this important matter. Do we engage with lukewarmness in private devotion? Is the fire of devotion burning dimly in our hearts? Do the chariot wheels drag heavily? If so, let us be alarmed at this sign of decay. Let us go with weeping, and ask for the Spirit of grace and of supplications. Let us set apart special seasons for extraordinary prayer. For if this fire should be smothered beneath the ashes of a worldly conformity, it will dim the fire on the family altar, and lessen our influence both in the Church and in the world.

Here I think he hits the right (and elusive) balance between inner and outer life. To the question, "What if my 'heart' isn't in it?", Spurgeon neither replies "Doesn't matter, just do it," nor "Then wait until it is." He says, "That's not good — but don't let that stop you. Start there in your prayers."

Which isn't a bad thought for us on a Lord's Day, to say nothing of all the rest.

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix: very spoilery movie review

WARNING: Buckets O' Spoilers

My wife and I saw the movie on opening day, which was itself fun — though not as fun as seeing Goblet of Fire on opening day in Scotland.

The upshot: I liked it a good deal, my wife liked it less. Here are the specifics.

The Good

1. I was impressed at how much made it from the book to the movie virtually unscathed and unaltered. If you were to list them out, so many details made it: the Dementor attack, the trial, Malfoy at the ministry, the Prophet smear-pieces, Luna's upside-down paper, the twins' mischievous magical candy, Grimmauld Place, Kreacher,"Wet," Umbridge's inspections, "the emotional range of a teaspoon," Snape's memory of James Potter, and on and on.
   
2. All the major actors turn in fine performances. In particular:
3. Radcliffe captures Harry's maturing, and his inner conflicts, well.
   
4. The portrayal of Luna Lovegood was note-perfect. (Actress Evanna Lynch is reportedly a huge Harry Potter fan and aficionado.)
5. The portrayal of Dolores Umbridge was also note-perfect, repugnant and scary and all pink, saccharine evil.
6. The actor who plays Dumbledore ratcheted himself down to a closer approximation of Rowling's character (i.e. more a serene and powerful presence, less a manic, out-of-control child-batterer).
7. The battle at the end of the movie is appropriately breath-taking, dangerous, pedal-to-the-metal. I want to see it in IMAX.
8. The musical score by Nicholas Hooper was original and fitting—and I say that as a big John Williams fan.
9. The movie did everything it had to in order to set up for Half-Blood Prince, with no head-slapping changes. Specifically...
10. ...Snape began his transformation from the crusty-but-benevolent character of the first four movies to the malicious, bitter, angry, cuttingly-cruel Snape of the books, who is absolutely essential to the events of book six.
11. Overall, while I will (in a moment) fault the movie's "rushed" feel, I'd say it was feels more apocopated or compressed than actually warped. To use one of my all-time favorite series, it's the difference between taking the hobbits virtually straight from the Shire to Bree (apocopation), and making Faramir an ambitious, weak fool (warping).
12. Sirius' death was very movingly handled.
    
13. I enjoyed the glances back at previous films.
    

The Bad and Ugly

1. I do not for the life of me understand the opening Dementor scene. Why change it at all from the book? But even worse, what does a Dementor care if Harry pokes it with a wand? But even worse, the books make a huge deal over Harry's ability to produce a fully-realized, corporeal Patronus. Heck, the movie makes a huge deal over it. Harry did it in the movie version of Prisoner of Azkaban (—huge white stag, remember?). All his students in Dumbledore's army are able to do it. So why do they have Harry produce this shapeless white blob? What in the heck were they thinking? Did they think we wouldn't notice? That's just insulting. [UPDATE: others who saw the movie insisted that the full Patronus was there. We just saw the movie again, and both of us watched very closely. Harry does not produce the full, coporeal stag he did in Prisoner; the shape may be slightly and briefly suggested, but it's just a shapeless white blur. Really bizarre.]
   
2. Why do the Dementors look different?
   
3. Why did they change how Sirius appears in the fireplace? Did they think we'd forget? Is it because they didn't pay to use Gary Oldman's face in Goblet? Again, insulting.
4. The centaurs who, in Rowling, are arrogant and dangerous but very intelligent, are simply made into scary manimals, more or less. Do they even speak, in the movie? I don't think so, or not much.
   
5. Like most reviewers, I actually think the movie should have been a 20-30 minutes longer. I can't imagine how it is for one who didn't read the book; but to my wife and me, it felt rushed, almost like reading off a series of chapter-titles instead of taking the time to tell the stories in the chapters. I understand that they writers had far too much material to deal with, and I don't particularly miss all that about Quidditch and Grawp and the Hagrid/giant side-story — but we hardly spend any time at Grimmauld Place, hardly get any feel for the Order of the Phoenix, get virtually nothing about how frustrated Sirius is, don't see Snape's goading of him, get virtually nothing about Kreacher, don't really see a lot of Harry's building anger. It's as if you're being taken on a tour, and the guide says, "Here's the Rosetta Stone, one of the most important finds in archeology, which was used to unlock Egyptian hieroglyphics. Fine, let's move on to this Dead Sea Scroll for a moment, shall we?"
6. Tonks is such a great character, and she's barely flashed at us here, as if to tease.
7. Ditto Bellatrix Lestrange.
8. I really regret seeing so little of Maggie Smith's wonderful McGonagall, and had wanted to see her confronting Umbridge as in the book. But instead, after a very brief flurry, she actually (and literally) humbly steps down in front of Umbridge. McGonagall? Never! Disappointing.
   
9. Cho Chang had no relationship with Cedric in the fourth movie, and now she's tearfully mourning him. A bit abrupt. Where her relationship with Harry goes in the movie is strange; non-readers will wonder whether she and Harry get back together or not.
10. Odd the movie made much of the fact that nobody but Luna and Harry could see the thestrals, but gave no indication that any of his friends had any issues riding something that was invisible to them.
11. I don't recall: does book-Harry actually tell his extracurricular Defense against the Dark Arts students that they must "believe" in themselves? Or is that just boilerplate Hollywood treacle?
    
12. It was nice and appropriately "dark," but felt as if the director doesn't know how to handle comedy. There were few or no laugh-out-loud moments for relief, as there were in all the previous movies. Even "Who are you and what have you done with Hermione Granger?" is mumbled, tossed off, trampled, like a muffed punch-line.
13. I'm disappointed that the elder Weasleys were so marginalized, relative to the role they play in the book. I'd looked forward to seeing more of both. They're favorite characters of mine, brushed over in the movies.
14. Ditto the twins Fred and George, though less so. Their presence is mostly very subdued, which makes an odd contrast not only to the books but to how much fun they were in the last movie.
    
15. Harry's allowed little reaction to the revelation that his father was capable of being a cruel prankster, and that he in fact abused Snape.
16. The final scene with Dumbledore is anticlimactic, far-removed from the book.
17. I don't remember the book, which we're re-reading. Does Dumbledore flatly tell Harry "Yes," that either he will kill Voldemort, or vice-versa?
18. As to Dumbledore's battle with Voldemort: it's visually very cool and dramatic, and not as bad as can be... but isn't the point of the book that D just basically kicks V's hinder, and doesn't even raise a sweat in the process? That V's Mr. Big Bad Guy, terror to all — until D shows up, and then he's just a sweaty little kid trying to smart off to his (infinitely wiser) teacher? That doesn't really come across. They look more equal, which they aren't in the book. [UPDATE: on second watch, this is the most disappointing aspect of the movie. Dumbledore actually gets knocked down. They really missed the character of Dumbledore almost entirely, since Richard Harris died. The books emphasize throughout that he is this almost annoyingly unflappable, calm, serene character -- but the most formidable wizard in the world, and the only one who Voldemort fears. Here they are depicted as equals. Wrong, wrong, wrong, and a very poor setup to the events of the next book/movie.]
    
19. The prophecy is so important and climactic—why is it so apocopated?
    

Assorted additional thoughts

Now from that, it may appear I really didn't like the movie, when I really did, and will gladly see it again.

I wonder how conscious any of the participants were of a parallel between OotP and the War on Terror, or whether Rowling intended such? Here's a bitter and ruthless enemy, who foments mayhem and destruction — and the dominant media devotes itself to downplaying the threat, and trashing anyone who tries to tell the truth. Hard not to see parallels there.

I suppose it is better to complain that a movie was too short, rather than too long. I know I'd rather folks walk away from my sermons wishing I'd preached another ten minutes, instead of wishing I'd stopped ten minutes sooner. But still, it is such a successful franchise, you'd think they'd have cut a little looser.

I really hope they don't shortcut Half-Blood Prince. Now, there is one gem of a story.

Why is it PG-13? Not because of profanity, or anything remotely sexual. Probably because of the tense atmosphere, and some violence. The Dementors are fairly scary in the beginning scene, the attack on Arthur Weasley a bit bloody, and the fight at the end is intense.

PS — I really don't want to spend too much time on the "how-can-a-Christian-read/watch-Harry-Potter?" thing. If you want to read more along those lines, you might try here.

UPDATE: Janet Batchler sums it up nicely in viewing the movie as a trailer for the book. I can't think of a better brief description.

Sola means no backup plan

On the way to work, I was praying and confessing my innumerable weaknesses and follies and sins.

Before God, I looked from them to Christ, and I confessed that I had no hope but in Him. That is, I prayed,

"If Christ is not enough, if His blood is not sufficient to pardon my sins and redeem me [Ephesians 1:7], if His righteousness, and God's covenanted grace and mercy [Romans 3:19-25] are not enough, then I'm doomed and have no hope. I have no backup plan. I have no 'Plan B.' Jesus Christ is my 'Plan A-Z.'"

It occurred to me that this is the personal, practical upshot of those Biblical sola's that the Reformation recovered, proclaimed, and proclaims.

If the Gospel revealed in Scripture alone is not enough, if Christ is not enough, if the grace of God is not enough, if faith is not a sufficient means of receiving this Christ and this salvation, and if the whole does not redound to the glory of God and God only — then we are of all men most miserable. We have no Plan B, no backup plan. All our eggs are in that one basket, so to speak. All our hope is in Christ, and in Christ alone.

If He is not enough, we are doomed.

But it is the Reformed, the Biblical, the Christian conviction that Christ is enough and to spare.

And that is what marks off Christian faith and hope from every other competing system, whether it calls itself Christian or not.

Crucial element of pastoral education: suffering

I've been needing to spend a lot of time in Psalms 25 and 119 lately, and was struck today by verse 92 of the latter:

If your law had not been my delight,
I would have perished in my affliction.

If you've read me much, you know that I lament (and will continue to lament) how badly pastors neglect the sciences crucial to their ministry. Chiefly, that neglect of studying Biblical Hebrew and Greek is simply inexcusable in our land and in our day. With one mouth we affirm the verbal, plenary, inerrant inspiration of (hel-lo?) HEBREW AND GREEK Scriptures, and the primacy of preaching and teaching those Scriptures — and with the other we make excuses for failing to equip ourselves to do that very thing.

Having said that...

There is at least one other crucial element to pastoral education: suffering.

Let me start with a contrast. I listened for a time to a very popular, much-loved preacher. It was not a blessing to me. During a difficult time in ministry decades ago, someone gave me a cassette of his on why the Christian is an overcomer. I was worse-off afterwards than before. I have never heard him tell a story of which the point didn't seem to be how stupid or bad other people are, or in which he failed or was even slow to grasp something. Every assertion he made, I could only swallow by prefacing it with the words "theoretically," or "according to my calculations," or "it says here in this book."

I have no doubt that he had many true excellencies, and that he was perfect for other folks. His ministry just did not resonate with me.

By contrast, there's Charles H. Spurgeon.

Take as an example Spurgeon's comment on Psalm 119:92 ("If your law had not been my delight, I would have perished in my affliction"):

That word which has preserved the heavens and the earth also preserves the people of God in their time of trial. With that word we are charmed; it is a mine of delight to us. We take a double and treble delight in it, and derive a multiplied delight from it, and this stands us in good stead when all other delights are taken from us. We should have felt ready to lie down and die of our griefs if the spiritual comforts of God's word had not uplifted us; but by their sustaining influence we have been borne above all the depressions and despairs which naturally grow out of severe affliction. Some of us can set our seal to this statement. Our affliction, if it had not been for divine grace, would have crushed us out of existence, so that we should have perished. In our darkest seasons nothing has kept us from desperation but the promise of the Lord - yea, at times nothing has stood between us and self-destruction save faith in the eternal word of God. When worn with pain until the brain has become dazed and the reason well-nigh extinguished, a sweet text has whispered to us its heart-cheering assurance, and our poor struggling mind has reposed upon the bosom of God. That which was our delight in prosperity has been our light in adversity; that which in the day kept us from presuming has in the night kept us from perishing. This verse contains a mournful supposition - “unless”; describes a horrible condition - “perished in mine affliction”; and implies a glorious deliverance, for he did not die, but lived to proclaim the honours of the word of God.

I have read numerous Spurgeon writings, sermons, and biographies. I never feel the need to preface his bold assertions with "Theoretically." None of this is Saul's armor to Spurgeon, fancy but untried. Spurgeon suffered, physically, socially, mentally, emotionally. He was derided, viciously criticized, and ostracized. He bore many cares. He suffered great bodily pain, without our modern medicines and analgesics.

So Spurgeon went to the Bible not as a book of theoretical knowledge alone, nor for some good advice for others. He went to it because he needed it, because he needed to find comfort and help and light and hope for himself. And he found it, and he reveled in it, he relished it. Then Spurgeon took what he found, and proclaimed it to others.

It minds one of Paul's words in 2 Corinthians 1:4-5, in which he blesses "the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God."

Someday I may start a series of post on my failings as a pastor. It would be a long series. One would have to be about my early-on aspiration to become one of those pastors who can devote all his time to study and sermon/lesson/book preparation. I could be off in my study all day, because I "have people" to handle people, to do the hands-on personal detail-work that I'm not so good at.

Now, that might have issued in some fine books, and some fine sermons. Fine theoretical books, and fine theoretical sermons. But is that the matrix God means for most of us?

What this reflection has brought back to my mind is along the lines of Peter's counsel: "Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you" (1 Peter 4:12). But that is exactly how we (I) often react to suffering, as if suffering means that the train's off the tracks, and something has gone terribly wrong. But it hasn't, unless the suffering is a direct consequence of unrepented sin. It is as if we're in an English class, and panic at a spelling test. It's part of the curriculum.

Spurgeon could not have preached as he preached, had he not suffered as he suffered.

To go back to the psalmist again, we must learn this truth: "It is good for me that I was afflicted, that I might learn your statutes" (Psalm 119:71).

To know Hebrew is essential. To suffer, no less so.

You tell me

First, read m'man Phil Johnson's Cessationism Again.

Then, read Dan Edelen's Throwing Stones in Glass Houses of Worship.

Then you tell me:

1. Do you think Dan actually read Phil's post all the way through (as he insists that his readers do, with his post)?
   
2. Are you persuaded by Dan's plea that he "didn’t want to write this post," but that it "need[ed] to be written" because of the contents of Phil's post?
   
3. Do you think the bad experiences Dan claims to have had with Reformed guys is at all analogous to Phil's post?
   

Blogger strangeness (updated)

I thought it was my browser or pc, but apparently it's neither.

In creating posts, I can't click in the Title field. In Firefox, it interprets the attempt as a Find, and in my IE-based browser (Maxthon), it just stares at me.

That's why this post is untitled.

Odd bug. Hope they fix it.

UPDATE: okay, there is information about it here. Bottom line is that one has to aim the mouse pointer about 3/4 of the way above the bottom line of the Title field, then one can insert the cursor and start typing. Sheesh. That same writer recommends clearing cache and cookies... but since I don't want to re-do all my cookies, I think I'll put that off for awhile.

"Unconditional love": two questions

1. Does it seem to you as if those most vocally demanding to be shown "unconditional love" always exempt themselves from the obligation?
2. Does it seem to you that the demand for "unconditional love" always end up being a demand for unconditional approval?
   

Ratatouille impressions

We saw this, mind you, after a very full day of hiking, fishing, and funning. And I'm very, very old, and just a wee bit short on sleep. So, having said that:

I've heard good things about Ratatouille, and have been looking forward to seeing it with my family. Last night my seven-year-old son, Valerie, and I saw it.

In short, Jonathan loved it, and Valerie and I thought it was just okay. Marvelous animation, as always with Pixar, and some chuckles -- but we actually were a bit bored.

It contains nothing offensive, the rat -- who you'd think would be the least sympathetic character -- is charming, and the music score is clever and provides fitting punctuation.

Apart from that, we just found nothing remarkable about it, unlike the Toy Story movies, The Incredibles, and Monsters, Inc. Victims of high expectations? Possibly. But there you have it.

Soon, maybe I'll tell you what I thought of Evan Almighty.

ADDENDUM: I figured out a major reason why the movie didn't work better for me. It was the human protagonist. My wife, with her wonderful gift for conciseness, said it best: "He's just an idiot." Yep. The other Pixar movies as a rule present 3D sympathetic protagonists. This one doesn't. He's a stumbling, clueless cipher, rescued largely by a rat and a woman, and no wiser for it.

Flicka: OK movie, baaad sermon

When our two older children were little, we devised a way of rating movies. We sized them up as a movie, and as a sermon. That is, we evaluated the entertainment-value on the one hand, and the message, if any, on the other.

So by this standard, for instance, Disney's The Little Mermaid was a good movie (fun, funny), but a bad sermon (disrespect your father, do whatever you want no matter who it hurts and everything will work out fine). By contast, Beauty and the Beast was a good movie (fun, funny, good songs, moving), and a good sermon (love your father, love to read, love is more than attraction to appearance).

For our "Burger Movie" last night, we just watched the 2006 movie Flicka, which Michael Medved so loved and hailed as a "a first-class family film" and "fine and family friendly."

Verdict: well, you read the title.

Flicka is indeed very pretty and well-filmed, and has a likable cast; and the horse herself is really gorgeous. There are some funny lines and well-directed moments of interaction.

But... it is a "fine and family friendly" "first-class family film" only if your definition of such includes depicting a caring, loving, devoted, hardworking father as an object of contempt, disrespect, hatred, and familial conspiracy.

That's right. Right from the start, we're introduced to our "heroine," an undisciplined, selfish, self-indulgent, self-absorbed, ungrateful brat, at a fine school only because of great and many sacrifices on their part (her father leading that effort), completing blowing off a test for which she's been provided the topic in advance. Then she goes home, and immediately begins indulging her every whim, shirking her chores, and treating her father with affectionate contempt.

In fact, everyone treats this poor man with affectionate contempt. After one rebellious outburst from this daughter, the mother comes to talk to her. To reprove her, perhaps? To correct her? No; to comfort her by telling her that she (the wife) hasn't "talked to" her father yet. Then, she is hinting, she'll bring him around to the daughter's will.

Do they always treat him with this affectionate contempt? No. The affectionate veneer drops when the daughter's will is crossed, and she physically beats on her father and tells him that she hates him. Her brother joins in, physically shoves this man and verbally spits in his face. Only the wife remains mostly affectionate, though she tells him at one point that he knows he did the wrong thing "because (he) didn't talk with (her)" (i.e. he knows he always goes wrong if he doesn't okay his decisions with her first).

Does this all get worked out?

Yes... in that the daughter gets her way, the father essentially caves, and they all allow as how he's more or less okay now.

This is not my definition of "family-friendly" — at least not in terms of how God defines "family."

So, it is an okay movie, but an absolutely wretched sermon.