It never ceases to amaze me how God blesses with guidance in the midst of confusion.

Beginning in the Spring of 2002 (or somewhere around there) reformed theology and the beliefs of Calvinism have been major issues in my life. I have wrestled with the implications of serving an all-powerful, completely sovereign God. It has been a long journey and now more than ever I feel as though I am still scratching the surface of being in relationship with this Creator God.

That said, I desire to continue searching for further understanding of God and my relationship to him. Every now and then God enlightens my mind to a new point of view and the recent past has been such a time. I find that the real issue with Calvinism is not so much the weakness of human will but the overpowering love of God. Any defense of Calvinism that places the weakness of human will at center stage is an anemic defense. It is starved of the backbone of what it means to be a member of God’s elect.

The Bible speaks of the elect’s relationship with God in terms of adoption. Ephesians 1:4-6 states that

“…even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. In love he predestined us for adoption as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace, with which he has blessed us in the Beloved.”

This and the other references to adoption in the New Testament have stuck with me during the past few months and have spurred the following observations.

When a child is left orphaned and placed in the care of the state their greatest need is a loving parent, definitively so. Now suppose that this child is orphaned at birth and is not aware that there is such a thing as a loving family system. This child will continue living day to day assuming that the life they lead is “normal”. Imagine that a loving father comes to the orphanage and chooses to adopt this child into his family. The child can hardly comprehend the prospect of being loved, wanted, and valued. All of a sudden the realization of all he has missed living apart from the love a father overwhelms him. There would be no accusations from the child toward the father that he was somehow forcing his love. On the contrary, the child would see more clearly than ever his need in light of the fathers love.

It is no coincidence that the Apostle Paul uses the language of adoption in relation to our need for Salvation by God the Father. It seems that in most arguments over reformed theology (or at least most arguments that I have been privy to), the rights of the individual’s free will against irresistible grace are contested most often and vehemently. After basking in what it means to be adopted by a loving, all-powerful God any imagined slight against my free will is quickly thrown out the window. Orphans do not choose their parents, they are absolutely in need of a parent’s willingness to bring them into their family. Graciously, God adopts his elect into relationship with himself in this way. It is unimaginable and that when we become cognizant our greatest need we would refuse our only hope for salvation when offered.

This has become my greatest rest when the crashing waves of theological debate become deafening. I for one am thankful that God chose to bring me, as undeserving as I am, into his loving family. I cannot imagine ever viewing his sovereign decision to save me as a slight against my supposed independence, for I find everyday proof of how undeserving I am of his love, affection, and grace.

Sixteen-year-old Kaytie Christopherson, a high school student from Casper, Wyoming, received a $28,000 Chevy Colorado from her school district. According to a newspaper article in the Tyler Morning Telegraph five other public school districts throughout the country awarded vehicles to students for exceptional behavior. This practice would be generous and benevolent if the recipients were awarded for outstanding achievement in scholastic activities or even athletic prowess but this is not the case. These students received vehicles just for class attendance. Last I heard, attendance in high school is a requirement and is not optional. This kind of bribery is not only unsettling, but undermines foundational aspects of our education system.

All formal education is a means to an end. Even those who study for pleasure have a goal of personal edification. That is the nature of education. Utility is the foundation of its purpose. I know of no prestigious career or menial job that awards mere presence. No CEO receives benefits or pay raises for perfect attendance at his or her office. It is therefore ludicrous to instill this kind of message in our high school students’ minds. Kaytie Cristopherson is in for a rude awakening when she finds out that the rest of the world never got the memo.

This kind of excessive reinforcement for average behavior also lowers standards for students. Teachers and school administrators now put so much emphasis on what used to be commonplace that a quality education is easily lost in the fog of mediocrity. Students may come to assume that mere presence at the workplace is what is important and that quality of product is only a worry of overachievers. That is dangerous thinking and is insulting to those who strive to be above average and succeed. In the end is it is these who suffer the most.

This kind of thinking shows a plummeting of our education system’s confidence in its own product. This is blatantly obvious in the way many teachers spend much of their class time teaching students how to take standardized tests and not on the actual knowledge those tests are supposedly designed to measure. A high school diploma is now as attainable as a school admissions form for fear of offending someone who couldn’t achieve one otherwise. So schools choose to award worthless feats of scholastic ability such as class attendance because that is apparently attainable by geniuses and sluggards alike.

Awarding vehicles for adherence to the standard is counterproductive. It plays to the tune of those who are too lazy to strive for something better than average. These are the masses who wish to become drunk in the well of placation. This system is futile and should be changed if those in authority ever wish to produce quality students who know the value of hard work and self efficacy.

Growing up I rarely watched television. I mean, my family had a TV and movies but rarely programming. When people find this out, I usually get some odd looks followed by this question, “What did you do all day?” In light of this I wrote this poem in college. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not on some high horse bewailing the evils of modern television and those who indulge therein. I love watching TV and hence have to be careful not to become too attached.

A human pacifier on a shelf
Sometimes we cannot help ourselves
The TV calls
Our resistance falls
Alas, we are sucked in

Though merely wires and flashes of light
Our plastic machines are quite a sight
A movie plays
We are in a daze
Made all for our viewing pleasure

Visions of light pour out its screen
Some quite good, others obscene
The picture is clear
We sit so near
In front of our inanimate idols

The speakers, so large, make quite a sound
The music and words through the houses resound
Noises pour out
We begin to shout
When talking to others nearby

It may have dents and stains and cracks
The image resolution, compared to others, may lack
We do not care
We continue to stare
The addiction is in full force

This cannot be good for our mental stability
To spend so much time in lethargic immobility
Our brains are rotting
With time allotting
For more of its deadly poison

My candle short and round
It adds certain warmth to the room
Though not much to look at
It owns a presence
A small, red mound or wax and wick
Ablaze at its center
Cold at its side
Encompasses in its glass cage

The flame
Engaged in its dance
Tossed about by the whimsical air
Like a ballerina it turns
Around its charred wick
It welts the wax
Creating a ruby red puddle at its base
A sea to the falling embers

The berry-like aroma fills the air
Bringing a festive spirit to its observers
Somewhat sweet
Somewhat sour
Overpowering this small room
It must be snuffed out soon

The flame is no more
Still a grey smoke continues the dance
Climbing the walls and filling the air
The wick still aglow
Fueling the dark airborne streams
Slowly it too fades
All is dark
The dance has ended

Why do I so fervently chase many lesser things?
Why is the sea so enticing today?
Its shallow pleasures make me believe something is there… worthwhile.
My head is spinning with my lack of control
And my dire illusion that somehow I can regain.
Then again I am convinced that I am in control of my direction
When in reality I am a pawn to the wind and tide,
Tossed by every snare forged against me.

The waves call to me.
Call me to drop my oar and surrender to its will.
My eyes are sore for the salty water.
Not from the sea but my tears.
I see my choice. Give in or continue my fruitless and futile struggle alone.
Wait.
Another choice has been granted.
Lord, take me from this ship.

Life’s rippling waters shallowed to still
An eerie break in the calming monotony
What once was here is now no more
A pause… silence… gone

No more to dream on moonless nights
No more to live as death inexistent
A picturesque existence now gone as tide
A returning shore not in sight

Black and white, chilling sorrow
A formality for closure and tears
Toss the flower, close the casket
Parting words are lost

The ribbon on your shoulder
A trinket for a memory
Is this to remind or represent
A mourning ritual deeper still

Would you do it all again?
Was life worth dying for?
Was death worth living for?
The ribbon fades

I am the thief that robs you
As I linger you become weak
In the end I will conquer
With each passing day closer to my victory
I am cunning

Sometimes you consider me a hero
Though more often an enemy
Lurking in the shadows that you know I hide in
Stealing from the unknowing and aware
I am bold

My tactics are not physical
No, they are much more subtle
I wreak havoc on the timid and stressed
I am the rival of the overworked
I am ruthless

Human fantasy has tried to overrule me
Ideas have come and gone
They all have failed miserably
Only to notice that in their toil I have stolen more
I am underhanded

I go by many names
Mostly indirect references no doubt
But you know me well
Too well I am sure you would agree
I am time

Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, “Do it again”; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough… It is possible that God says every morning, “Do it again,” to the sun; and every evening, “Do it again,” to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daisies alike: it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we. _G.K. Chesterton

Lately I have been reading Kenneth Grahame’s The Wind in the Willows. I suppose I have always preferred children’s fiction over adult fiction possibly because I am not too far removed from childhood myself. While this may be the case it does seem that Children’s fiction (and childhood itself for that matter) is saturated in the appreciation of the here and now. In the great classics of children’s literature it is not just the great unknown that causes the mind to soar but it is the color of the trees in spring, the unending possibilities of the imagination, and the pleasure found in the company of friends.

This sense of amazement in the present is something all too often lost with age. As adults we are told either vocally or by example that there is an expected level of jadedness that not only comes along with maturity but actually validates it. Although life must become more serious we must not follow suit entirely and throw off all amounts of levity as childishness as if it were a flaw. In fact it is this childlikeness that keeps us sane.

Take Mr. Cynical for example. Pushed by past wounds and the expectations of proper society he jumps into adulthood headfirst without so much as a look back on the “small” pleasures he is leaving behind. Now his life is consumed with purchases and recognition, advancement and esteem. Soon it takes more and more to amaze him. The drug of pleasure has been so abused and his tolerance of it so pronounced that only something truly big or expensive or dangerous will send his mind and imagination soaring. We then find Mr. Cynical at the end of his life pouring over pictures of his childhood wondering when it was that he traded the invaluable joys of childhood for the trinkets of age.

Now, I can already hear the naysayers retorting about proper behavior and how this world would be in shambles if we all lived in perpetual immaturity and levity. Sadly they are mostly correct. We must all grow up sometime but may we not throw out the baby with the bathwater by surrendering our childlike wonderment because we have hit some ambiguous age of adulthood. Let us take the joys found as a child with us as we pick up newfound joys as adults. We may be surprised to find that they are not as opposed as we’ve been told.

Through night upon night with my thoughts
Insomnia lingering on
A self-imposed sickness refused to let go
My wish is that all would be gone

A sickening twist in the stomach
A churning of helplessness still
The more that I fight it, the worse it becomes
For evil a torturous thrill

The searching for answers begins
Always stalled by the obvious ground
Hypothesis, thesis, and then back again
Solutions seem none to be found

Then comes the subtle denial
The belief that I somehow don’t care
But life is a story with each chapter a must
And the mind, a page will not tear

One last option presented
Its seems I can simply surrender
Release my need to solve this life
After all, is solution worth splendor?

This all may seem to be simple
But it’s hardly an effortless task
To give up the struggle is easy to say
But the action seems too much to ask

I force my white flag with uncertainty
A sudden tinge of pain in my mind
This battle I’ve fought is part of me
Not easily handled or resigned

Oh, what sweet relief has arrived
Such a breath of fresh air well past due
My struggle has finally come to an end
Wonder and joy has ensued

10/2004

Settling for dimming light

A silhouette of life in sight

Accepting life as blind happenstance

There must be more

Of this we’re sure

Why must we strain so?

Why for this grayness do we slave?

It’s not for lack of hue

But of light

_AT

inspired by Plato’s Myth of the Cave