Today’s topic – danger. A rather incongruous subject to my present state of safety and repose, but one is always more disposed to discuss dangerous things in security than when actually in danger. And why not? It is danger that makes safety so delightful and terrifying things that make simplicity and mundaneness so enjoyable. Only those who have never experienced danger can be bored by everyday life. And only those who delight in the everydayness of life can truly be ready for danger when it comes. The reason for this, of course, is love.

The person who is content and happy with life, enjoying mundane things and delighting in pure simplicity has a reason to fight. Better a farmer with a pitchfork fighting for what he loves, than a rigorously trained, hardened warrior that doesn’t care. That farmer fights because he loves his chores, his work, his animals, his mundane routines, his sweat, his dirt, his family. He fights because he wants to wake up early in the morning, watch the sun rising to caress his land with a glorious red glow, feed his animals and hear their contented chewing, he wants to scratch a pig’s bristled back and smell freshly cut hay, he wants to revel in the first moments of a newly born lamb and watch the baby horse taking its first steps, he wants to tickle his daughters, chase them around the barn, see their eyes sparkle, their giggles startle the horses, and straws of hay get lost in their curls, he wants to kiss his wife every morning, growing old with her, he wants to see his God in every blade of grass, in every drop of dew, and praise Him for sun, rain, joy, sorrow, laughter, and tears. He wants life with all its tiny, unimpressive feats and everyday miracles. He doesn’t seek out danger, but when danger comes he will meet it head-on, plunge into it with fear, but without a backward glance, because he loves.

The other man has become tired of life, mundaneness irritates him, simplicity bores him, he has no time, but all the time in the world. He fills his life with emptiness, surrounds himself with complexity to hide his loneliness, plunges into activity to mask his idleness. He has lost his curiosity, lost his imagination, lost his love…he seeks danger because he has lost his desire to live.

That farmer, if he loses his life to danger, gives it willingly for love. If he conquers the danger he praises God and comes joyfully back to his mundane life. The other man, if he loses his life, has given it willingly because it bored him. He sacrifices it because he is tired of it. That farmer offers his life back to God saying “thanks for the ride, it was a good one.” The other man shoves his life in God’s face saying “thanks for nothing, take this back, I don’t want it anymore.” If he comes through danger with his life, he is disappointed, the home-coming is anti-climactic and he is already seeking another drink, another draught of danger. In the words of G. K. Chesterton “A martyr is a man who cares so much for something outside him, that he forgets his own personal life. A suicide is a man who cares so little for anything outside him, that he wants to see the last of everything.”

Danger gives spice to life, it makes life worth living. But danger is also…well…dangerous. Let us not be so eager for danger that we forget to enjoy mundane life, and let us not cling so tightly to life that we are unwilling to face danger for its sake.

My problem with this, and the reason I personally messaged him about it, is that even unbelievers often evidence better charity than this, comporting themselves with goodwill even in heated disagreements. But they act only out of an intangible sense of sporting or intellectual solidarity. To employ the classic how-much-more argument, shouldn’t we Christians be legendarily quick to forgive? I think the excuse often given, and the misconception I want to address, is that we don’t have to forgive someone unless, or until, they’re truly repentant.

To begin with, forgiveness is different than reconciliation, meaning that you don’t have to wait for them to ask before you forgive them. Some might place the distinction between being prepared to forgive, and actually forgiving (once the other party has sincerely asked forgiveness), but I submit that these are different ways of getting at the same thing. Being prepared to forgive someone really just means you’ve forgiven them, otherwise you’re still holding something against them, whereas you should love them enough to pursue reconciliation.

In the above scenario, I told my friend that it didn’t seem very Christ-like to withhold forgiveness, to which he responded that God doesn’t forgive us unless we truly repent. My best answer was that we’re not God, which I think is a valid point. But more than that, I think God deals with us in a more forgiving way, though repenting of our sins is essential to being in fellowship with God, and conviction is how God brings us back because we are His atoned-for children. But if I were to die suddenly with unrepented sins, I don’t think I’d be cast into utter darkness or serving time in purgatory. And, on a more basic level, “God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8).  Simply put, if God didn’t forgive us before we deserved it, we’d be screwed.

I was recently inspired to consider this topic again by a sermon on handling conflict, the telos of which was that we are told to forgive as we’ve been forgiven, or else God will do to us as the unforgiving servant of Matthew 18. The man in the parable was forgiven an impossible debt; we likewise, who have been forgiven much, are called to forgive much in return. And this fits nicely with a Thanksgiving theme, since I technically still have half an hour of “Turkey Day.” We’ve been forgiven everything, so we have no excuse for ungratefulness. We’ve been forgiven everything, so why not let’s forgive everyone, everywhere, everything?

That last line and the following excerpt, which I’ll end with, are from the lyrics to “bullet to Binary (pt. two)” by mewithoutYou:

We all well know
We’re gonna reap what we sow
But grace, we all know
Can take the place of all we owe
So why not, let’s forgive everyone, everywhere, everything
All the time, everyone, everywhere, everything

All the time, everyone, everywhere, everything…

https://www.abrokenmold.net/2010/11/so-why-not-lets-forgive-everyone/feed/ 4 https://www.abrokenmold.net/2010/06/thoughts-on-death/ https://www.abrokenmold.net/2010/06/thoughts-on-death/#comments Fri, 18 Jun 2010 00:34:01 +0000 https://www.abrokenmold.net/?p=677 On a couple occasions during the last school year, Caleb, fellow classmate Chris and I have discussed the subject of death, and specifically the Christian attitude towards death. More recently, Caleb made this post on the matter. He argues that we should be able to laugh at death and irony, that we should not fear death, but look at it as a natural part of life. Lamentably, even after those discussions and his post, I’m not sure I’ve sorted it all out to my satisfaction (maybe I should write a paper on it). But I agree that death is a beaten enemy. We shouldn’t fear it, we should be able to laugh at it, and we should even be able to scorn it. The righteous are brave as lions. But Rachel’s comment¹ was significant — we shouldn’t treat it as a friend.

There are situations where death can be a blessing, but only in the sense that God uses or allows evil to work a greater triumph. Like the death of a dear saint in the pain of old age, ready to go home. Like Aslan and his death at the hands of the White Witch, or Christ’s own death on the cross. Caleb said at one point that death is just taking us to be with Christ. That is true, but that’s not the way it was intended. We were to fellowship with God by truly natural means; it is death that is unnatural, the result of a curse. And yet, Christ has taken the curse upon himself, and triumphed over death. Dying with him, we are raised to new life.

But I also believe there is an appropriate sorrow at death — in the case of beloved saints, merely at the separation, but with unbelievers the separation is eternal. That is worth grieving about. While everyone who rejects Christ gets what they want, it’s still a terrible, sorrowful result of the Fall. To repeat myself in a comment on Caleb’s post, while we trust and submit to God’s sovereign plan, it is not wrong to sorrow or attempt to change things (through evangelism, etc.).

But we live in God’s story, and we must tune our sense of humor to match his. Caleb made his case well in a follow-up comment: Eglon’s death is pretty funny. Yes, we can laugh at a dead man. But we can also sorrow. “The Lord is … not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance” (2 Peter 3:9). And finally, we surely must not fear death. I close with a quote from the end of Pilgrim’s Progress:

“My Sword I give to him that shall succeed me in my Pilgrimage, and my Courage and Skill to him that can get it. My Marks and Scars I carry with me, to be a witness for me that I have fought his Battles who now will be my Rewarder.” When the day that he must go hence was come, many accompanied him to the Riverside, into which as he went he said, “Death, where is thy Sting?” And as he went down deeper he said, “Grave, where is thy Victory?” So he passed over, and all the Trumpets sounded for him on the other side.

This and Nathaniel’s post on audience have got me thinking and somewhat re-working my approach. In fact, this is an attempt at a short to medium post that puts forth a thought for consideration. Now there is, of course, an appropriate way to strategize and target your audience. That’s what this post is about. But targeting your audience doesn’t mean broadening your appeal¹ so much as knowing your audience, like Nat said, and producing good content.

As should be apparent, this is really just a good business model — it applies to blogging almost informally. Companies like Apple, Inc. understand this.² Apple has a niche market and focuses on content that resonates within this group, to the extent that Jobs has what is termed a “cult following” [warning: link contains some language]. After all, Macs just work. Nevertheless, Apple is also a good example of a company that expanded its focus to great advantage (read: iPhone).

Conversely, Microsoft wants the whole market — go big or go home. Call it biting off more than you can chew, taking in too much territory, or whatever; but Microsoft tries to cover a broad range of user needs, hardware manufacturers and platforms, and comes up short on the quality front. Not content to focus on what it does best (using the term generously), Microsoft is constantly competing with Sony, Apple, Google, Gmail and Linux. And — whether it’s gaming consoles, hardware, media players, operating systems, communication services or search engines — you get a lineup of products doomed to eternal second place.

I could regale you with talk of BSODs, driver headaches and viruses, Windows ME and Vista, but the goal was merely to demonstrate what I mean by “the myth of relevance.” Just getting the most customers or the biggest audience is not an end unto itself. A streamlined, focused business model and quality control builds and retains a loyal consumer following. Spyderco is a good example. With only 30 employees and direct input from owner/founder Sal Glesser, there is a personal attention to quality and focus on customer relations that makes a Spyderco owner feel included, as it were. One wants the same sort of connection with a blog audience.

Finally, one more application: churches. There are, sadly, a lot of churches that would cut off their doctrinal arm to be “relevant.” They are the seeker-friendly, spiritual-milk, easy-believism variety. As Pastor Terry Tollefson is fond of saying, if the young people aren’t coming, break out the pizza, guitars, low lights and couches. Preach what people like to hear. Tickle ears. Unfortunately, they — just like the girl with mismatched shoes (one Converse and maybe a fur-trimmed boot is about right), striped leggings, outlandish hair and the “raccoon” style eyeliner — are pitching an indiscriminate appeal for attention. But attention is not an end to itself. You want the right kind of attention, the right kind of publicity. To quote Pastor Doug Wilson in a related vein, “Young Christian people should seek to become the kind of person that the kind of person they would want to marry would want to marry.”

Churches should want to attract people because of the strong preaching of law and condemnation in tension with grace and love, the unity, fellowship and accountability. The robust doctrine of Psalms and liturgy. The corporate-ness of Christ’s body. If someone is repelled by any of these things, that’s the way it should be — that’s the only hope for them. Diluting the truth until no one feels convicted is doing no one any favors. Taking the potency from worship and the doctrine from the songs is what, in other venues, would be called false advertising.

The church, properly functioning, shows people where they stand in relation to the body of Christ. When this is not done, people either discover spiritual meat at some point and have no taste for it, or settle into a warm, fuzzy, God-isn’t-about-guilt version of Christianity. (Just as long as I don’t have to do anything uncomfortable, like loving unlovable old people in nursing homes or confessing sins or letting grudges go.) On rare occasion, they realize they aren’t getting fed and look for a body to keep them accountable, words they can chew on — the Word himself.

So then, what I’ve called the “myth” of relevance is the notion that attracting attention, broadening appeal or increasing numbers is anything to aim for. At best, you will raise lukewarm interest in your lukewarm product. At worst, you will fill the Church with people who wouldn’t be there if they knew the way is narrow, and deter those who would only be there if they did. If I have spent time and digital ink on this last point, it’s because I’m serious. In any of these applications, there are some people to whom you don’t want to be relevant, and especially when it concerns the sanctification of Christ’s bride.

But, as always, that sanctification should flow out through all our endeavors, even our blogs. And yes, as a short to medium post, this is a fail. Oh well, semper reformanda and all that.

I just wrote a paper on Christians and deception, so I’ve thought this over a bit recently. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with saying “Fine,” in response to “How’re you doing?” especially when asked by, say, the grocery store clerk. Most people don’t expect any more than a one-word courtesy answer. But as of late, when any of my friends or acquaintances asks me how I’m doing, I tend to respond more thoughtfully. It may be “I’m pretty tired and unproductive. Hopefully today will be better. How are you?” Or, depending on the person and their interest in encouraging and exhorting me, I might share my struggles and ask for prayer.

There are two basic truths here: speak appropriately to the situation, and be concerned for the welfare of others. In my paper, I came to the conclusion that (shocker) it comes down to heart motives. For example, some falsehoods actually convey a more important truth, as God’s deception of his enemies communicates His justice and truth. When you say that you’d love to have someone over for dinner even though you inwardly chafe at the inconvenience, it communicates that you value their company and wish to bless them; this is as it should be, and there is no need to let them know about your moment of ungodly selfishness. You know better, deal with it, and prepare dinner in the right spirit.

That was rather long-winded, but I’m tired. What I’m trying to say is that the radical honesty approach has its good applications, and its flaws as well. Sometimes we most certainly should not tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

As to the second point, let us return to the grocery store example. Or coffee shop. As I mentioned, I have been being more thoughtful in my communications with others, say, when in line for coffee at Bucer’s. (Bucer’s is a Moscow coffee shop, where I get lots of schoolwork done. Really, I do.) But sometimes they weren’t really looking for more than “I’m good,” and sometimes it’s just inconsiderate to dump your stress on someone else. The point is, in your openness and communication, be sure you are seeking to “Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear” (Eph. 4:29).

Which brings us to what Nat said about finding out what’s happening with others. It can be difficult when they think you’re asking a trite question, but I’ve witnessed many examples of friends showing a sincere interest in the other’s welfare, and it really isn’t that hard to do. When you respond honestly and show an interest in others in your daily conversations, others notice and it benefits everyone. Encourage and sharpen one another (Prov. 27:17).

To wrap up: parents, messy lives, and God. As painful as it can be, I believe it is always best to talk to your parents and work things out. It makes your relationship stronger and enables growth as Christians. Parents are the first sphere of authority set in place by God, and they love you. And life is short. Don’t let relationships fall apart and erode. Don’t let the distance grow. Lives are messy, both ours and others’. Paul wrote as the “chief of sinners” to some new-Testament Christians with terribly messy lives, but God draws straight with crooked lines. Within covenant and communion, we have already overcome the wicked one. Sanctification is a process, but the battle is, in one sense, over.

“Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you. Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. Resist him, firm in your faith, knowing that the same kinds of suffering are being experienced by your brotherhood throughout the world. And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you. To him be the dominion forever and ever. Amen.” — 1 Peter 5:6-11

The narrative weaves erratically through reflections on philosophy, quantum physics, wasp villains, and Shakespeare in a stream-of-consciousness format. Interspersed throughout are meteorological observations, insights on everyday life, and stories from the kingdom Animalia. “Have you ever heard a rabbit scream?”

In the chapter titled “The Problem of Evil and the Nonexistence of Shakespeare,” Mr. Wilson deals with the sobering reality of evil. God is the great Artist, and there is black paint in the world. “How can this Artist be good?” The Christian apologetic is presented here in a rambling, poetic style influenced by C.S. Lewis and G.K. Chesterton, and the result is truly a work of art. Notes From The Tilt-A-Whirl is different; it reads with a unique style that well captures the depth and vibrancy of creation, and being thought-provoking while at it. I highly recommend this book, and I think every Christian should read it.

Note (no pun intended) that Mr. Wilson employs a few words that some might find offensive. For some thoughts on Christians and what might be called “strong” language, check out these older blog posts here and here.

True to the title, Notes From The Tilt-A-Whirl takes the form of notes from life, expressing the wonder of God’s world. God’s spoken world. One theme that runs through the book like a thread (and there are many) is that of words. Everyone is given a part in God’s story.

“Our Maker waits. He would have a conversation. What words will we have? We need only one, the One who spoke us.”