A Merry Band of Men
A Merry Band of Men
Here are my options. I could make fun of Christianity Today, the literary equivalent of shooting evanjellyfish in a barrel, or I could write in praise of a few good men. Though the former is easier, the latter is wiser. My first Sunday back in town after three Sundays away, I got to baptize a baby. That night we had a feast in Rebecca's honor. And at the same time we said goodbye to Rebecca, and her parents. I don't want to overshadow the impor- tance of that event. But it has happened, by God's grace, before. And we trust God will bring them all back. What else happened that night was a first. Having feasted on an assortment of chilies, we drank up some jam. Jonathan led the band, with his fiddle. Marc Hays played guitar. Chris Saenz plucked on the banjo, while his da played the bass. Joshua Blackburn reached back to the old country, and kept rhythm on the bodhran.
Keep in mind that many on that list are only learning to play. I couldn't have joined at all, even if my mandolin weren't in the shop. But as time progressed, so did the merry band. What knocked me over wasn't what they were able to play, but that they were playing. Culture making does not require that we storm the gates of Julliard. Nor does it require that we dance with the devil, to his tunes. Both of these are lies from the devil, lies reinforced by the culture of the expert, the culture of watching. Rather, it requires that we make our own music. Which is just what these men did. My prayer is that some of these men, with me right up there with them, will one day be playing the music at one of our dances. I, of course, will have first to learn to play by ear, because my eyes will be too moist to see anything. There are a thousand reasons that I delight that God has placed me in this place, and among these people, a thousand reasons that I must daily give thanks. The best ones, however, you can dance to.
Another One Bites the Dust
I heard just yesterday about another minister I know being disciplined for his addiction to pornography. I was shocked last year by a number of people I know, including ministers, who have been caught in adultery and pornography. There seem to be so many men out there who are playing with fire. The shock is over, the pain remains. Sonic of these men were friends. Some have fallen because they made common mistakes. Some have fallen because they have hidden a self-centered view of life that has never been fully given to God. All have suffered from a lack of communal responsibility that should coiiie natural in the church.
Until the church returns to the biblical idea of what the term "fellowship" actually means, there will be many more who will ship wreck themselves on lust. The casualty rate is escalating. Those whoni we know about are probably only the tip of the iceberg. Men must remember that they are being lied to. The attraction to sexual immorality is always based on a promise that cannot be kept. A promise of satisfaction, intimacy, and fulfillment. They trade their reputation, ministry, and family for bread that is eaten in secret, and has no taste.
And not only are they being lied to, they are lying to themselves. They think they can handle fire without being burned. They are alpha-males. They will be the first of Adam's race to control the flame. They believe that they can place themselves in areas of temptation and not fall. All of this is foolish dreaming. All of this leads to the nightmare of estrangement, divorce, loss, ashes, stain...and the hollow eyes of wives and children betrayed.
The daughters of the philistines will always be a temptation. Their physical beauty and alluring speech lead to death-not the "good" life. They are cursed. And any man who is deceived by them is not wise. You are excommunicating yourself from the covenant community by joining with them.
Unintended Consequences
Ultrasound technology has progressed rapidly, to the point that it is now possible to create a three-dimensional, full-color, vivid image of a child in the womb. These are not your niother's ultra- sounds; you don't need to squint your eyes and use your imagi- nation to understand what you are seeing.
People are astonished by them, people love them, and people want them. But because the tech- nology is expensive, and because old-fashioned ultrasounds are medically adequate, your insur- ance company isn't really interested in spending a thousand dollars to buy you one, and your doctor doesn't see any point in asking them to do so.
Still, the American consumer is not to be denied, and the American entrepreneur is not in the business of teaching him self-denial. Franchise operations are already springing up in malls around the country that will perform the necessary magic on a pregnant mother's belly, studios that will provide you with just the right portrait package to add to your burgeoning collection of memories.
The medical community isn't too happy about all this. After all, ultrasound technology is a serious technology, one with medical importance, and consequently one that should remain under the control of properly trained professionals, not put in the hands of someone who just last week was dressing hot dogs down the corridor at the food court. Besides, it all sounds so trivial, the idea of using high-powered medical machinery fresh from the research labs nierely to cater to the appetites of novelty seekers. yuppies with more money than sense, who are in the market for baby pictures.
Now, wouldn't it be just like the God we serve to use our shortcomings—our technological hubris, our trivialness, our affluence, our unwillingness to deny ourselves anything, our lust for novelty—to use all these in getting across to us the point that it really, truly is a baby?