iPandora

I tend to be dense, sometimes.

Over the last two years, at least, I’ve noticed a theme in God’s work in my life. A lesson, as it were, He spends all year drumming in to my head. And usually it takes a while for me to notice I’m still in class, as it were.

Last year, it was around this time that I started really realizing all God’s work in my life was not just Him being nice or more obvious about His niceness.

Rather it was Him trying to drum into my head some slight concept of his Glory and Sovereignty.

If you followed this blog for any period of time, you know I spent three weeks in Italy from the end of December 2006 into January 2007. Right before New Years I was separated from my friends in Pisa. I ended up in Rome and due to communication issues (they had the cell phone, I had the pay phone) we were unable to find each other and meet again.

I was faced with a large bill for housing that used all my cash reserves only 5 days into the trip and no idea where I should go. After panicking for a day, I tried tracking my friends down in Naples and then returned to Venice to spend the balance of the time.

After trying unsuccessfully to find an airplane ticket back prematurely, I was able to reach my credit card companies and inform them (again) that I was over seas and they should unlock my accounts because it was me making those charges, as I’d told them I would a week previous.

Things being resolved financially, I proceeded to spend the rest of my time in Italy wandering the streets of Venice, usually away from the standard tourist haunts and byways. It was a quiet time of reflection and observation. For me this was a big thing. I have at times been nearly co-dependent in my relationships, even with ‘just friends’ and to have a period where I was completely incapable of being dependent was freeing.

Prior to leaving for Italy, I’d determined that this was a good time to put in motion another long-thought plan: returning to Chicago, for good. After returning to the states I packed my belongings in my car and drove across the country in the middle of winter. Sans heater.

Arriving safely in Chicago I was at the generosity of friends in the area until I found jobs and found my feet under me again.

Grace came into my life soon thereafter, and life has continued to progress since then.

But as I mentioned, about this time last year I came to realize God’s overwhelming interest in my life.

We go about our ways assuming that at least some of the world revolves around us, and we around others. If we’re really humble we think only a little bit of the world revolves around us.

But God is the only thing important. To the extent that three possibilities are true:

1. Some of the world revolves around us,
2. We revolve around others, or
3. None of the world revolves around us

…we have an incorrect perspective of the nature of God, and all of creations’ relationship to Him.

He is the end-all and be-all. He is the only one for whom the universe was created, because it was through Him and His planned, considered and definite action that we, or anything we naturally perceive, came to be.

To the extent that we see ourselves defined by or defining others, we are denying God’s ultimate definition of our lives: To Glorify Him.

“What is the chief end of man?” asks the Westminster Catechism: “To glorify God and praise Him forever.”

After realizing the lessons God had for me seemed to be along a common theme, it was exciting to look forward to how He’d next reveal Himself to me, and amazing to look back at His awesome provision, protection, and guidance.

But perhaps the biggest thing was to realize I’m not a power-player in this story of His abundant love. I’m not even a regular player. Nor do I have a bit part. Not even a walk on.

God is the one and only actor in His story. In His mysterious grace and mercy He has chosen to have a relationship with me, but not for my sake.

The bible over and over again says that it is for His names’ sake, for His glory, for His purpose and according to His will, that things happen and events occur.

My best hope is to follow His lead, accept His direction, and hang on for the ride.

It’s not about me.

Which then brings us to this year.

Pastor Rob found the Lord leading him to set the vision of the church this year to be one of purpose: purpose in our lives individually and corporately.

The sermon series in my bible study group, 631, is on James and it’s central tenet of the deadness of faith apart from works.

And in the sermons at church, the studies at 631, the lessons from books and passages I’ve meditated on have all pointed to salvation being so much more than what I found I’d assumed it to be.

Salvation is not a train ticket: punched once and ready for the trip.

Salvation does indeed begin, in our human perception, at a point in time. It is confirmed in our praying to admit our own guilt and accept Christ’s act of redemption and forgiveness and justification.

But it is also a continuing action.

A study of James’ and Paul’s teachings on works and faith and their balance in the life of a believer will show that faith is defining term in our moment of salvation, and that works are the evidence by which others will see our faith proved throughout the rest of our lives.

And then it isn’t about me or you or even us.

God didn’t had Jesus die because He needed us to be forgiven or justified or saved. Jesus died because God wanted to glorify Himself throughout this meager sweep that is human history. It has been often said that the most defining point in time for the entire world has been when Jesus died on the cross to glorify God.

God’s glory was brought about in the act of sacrifice in that it was His will that the chasm between God and His creation be bridged, and His further glory that He bridge that gap Himself. He was the only One who could, the only One who would, and the only One who succeeded.

So in Him choosing me and drawing me into His salvation, what do I give? Not to pay Him back, or settle a debt, because there is no way I can do either of those things. But to seek to bring further glory to the One God who chose me.

Everything. That is all I can give.

So when I do not give Him everything, as I have not, and continue to hold back, am I saved?

I know I am saved, because His Spirit bears witness in my spirit that I am a forgive child of God engaged in a justified life of sanctification.

So, looking forward, I expect that God will continue to reveal new, exciting, and convicting perspectives on His nature as revealed through His work of Salvation.

Originally posted January 24th, 2006. Written while in Italy a few weeks earlier.

I’m writing this on a notepad while on a train speeding across Italy. While passing through the Formia station a few Americans got off the train and stood for some moments on the platform before moving off to their destination. I’d spotted and heard them while on the train and, though I’d not talked with them I just wanted to let them know another American is adventuring in Italy and our paths had crossed (don’t think this makes sense? try living alone in a foreign land and see what odd things come to mind).

So I’m casting about for a sign or signal they’d immediately recognize which would associate the signer (me) as American. Thumbs Up? No, everyone does that, everywhere, and it’s universally recognized. V for Victory? No, I’d just look like a blond-haired, fair-skinned, blue-eyed Asian posing for a photograph trying to look American. Several other signs where thus considered and discarded before I found one that would unmistakeably label me as America.

I did not make this sign as I was too far away while the train was at the platform, and they’d moved off before the train passed by where they’d been, and they’d likely have been very offended.

Yes I have not seen this particular gesture since leaving the good ol’ US of A, and I’ve not really missed it either, until now. The one sign I could show that would definately label me as American was the binary 4, the raised central, the birdie, “the finger”.

Originally posted from Italy on December 29th, 2006.

After only two days in country, my initial reactions to Italy, are that it’s a country living in and devoted to the past. There seems to be little industry besides tourism in many places. Though this is definitely colored by my being a tourist, duh. But consider Venice, where two-thirds of the population consists of seasonal foreigners (regular tourists) during the summer months, and in the winter the population bundles up and hunkers down to last out the cold and slow trickle of tourists.

There is much beauty, truly, and Italy definitely has something to share with the world concerning history, art, etc, and with that there is to be no arguing. But consider also that the birthrate is 1.2 per woman (not per couple, per woman), and that children are staying single and staying home until their very late twenties (24-29 yrs old avg max age of children at home). Also, in watching the TV channels, there are several stations of voice-over movies all made in Hollywood California. And several other stations playing “spaghetti westerns” (and yes, that’s what they call them, and they’re all voice-over in Italian). One station of German language sports news and German (mostly) original movies (though a few voice-overs here as well). Two English stations, BBC World and CNN. There is little original Italian art (movies, music, etc) on the telly, which is sad considering the history of Italy leading the art world.

Instead, Italy seems to be constantly living in it’s past. This is not a totally bad thing. If this history existed in America, with thousands of years of awe-inspiring historical structures, we’d have torn them all down for the hazards they posed to Americans with Disabilities and various dummies and tourists of all IQ levels. We’d have sued them all out of existence. We’d have gates and fences keeping people hundred of feet and more from all structures with any non-standard-meeting designs and architecture. Also, America has little enough respect for it’s own history, choosing instead to chase frenetically after the future. This is America’s strength. And its weakness. Italy’s strength is it’s reverence of its history, and this is its weakness.

Italy has no future, and America has forgot its past.

A Flag for our fathers, a Flag of our own.
Flies over our land, and guards our home.
For freedom it flies, foundations of stone
It never will fall, this Flag of our own

.

On this flag day, do not forget either the God who gave us this land, or the men and women, our mothers and fathers who fought for this land, or those brave souls who are dying even now for the land our flag flies over. When I was in Italy it was an emotional experience to see in Rome the American Embassy and our flag flying bravely in the foreign land. Remember.

Besides the wife of our own JPennStarr (though she is welcome to try and answer) does anybody read Latin any more?

Quick quiz: What does the new tag line (under the I, Pandora title) say? In English.

Rules: you cannot look online. You cannot type the phrase into Google. You CAN dredge through your minds depths and ancient lessons you thought you’d never use again.

I’ll take a few days and then post the answer.

I did take Latin years ago in school. From a few different teachers. Along with Koine (Common/Classical) Greek. These two languages have contributed to my love of words, perhaps more than any other single thing. Nobody speaks either of these languages any longer: modern Greek is nothing like Koine, and Latin died with the Romans except for in certain corners of Catholicism. But both languages have contributed to the modern languages to an incredible extent. Because of my studies I don’t necessarily have to have seen or heard or experienced a word before to know what it means. It’s usually based on some Latin or Greek root. When I was traveling in Italy over the winter, I found it relatively easy to read signs and understand the gist of what was being said (though I didn’t have anything to verify the accuracy of my guesses, at the least the tongue did not sound foreign) because of my knowledge of Latin.

And then I went to college, and found that Latin and Greek don’t count as foreign languages for credits towards my degree. I would need to take three semesters (they’ve since revised it to two semesters or 6 units) of another language. I though I’d declined enough nouns and conjugated enough verbs to drown a horse, even a linguists horse, and so I took American Sign Language. I don’t remember hardly any words from ASL even just a few years later, but I am comfortable conversing with deaf people; they can read lips really well, generally.

By the way: yes, the phrase is a bit ironic and humorous, in case you’ve figured it out already.

I am a geek, I enjoy computers and nearly all things related to computers. I enjoy playing computer games. I own a Nintendo Gamecube and I intend to purchase a Wii before too much longer (after I pay off Italy, save a little, and purchase the projector). I find games stimulating, social, and relaxing. I prefer to play multi-player games with decent people. I try to spend a little time each week on a Day Of Defeat server for the clan DeathByToons, consisting of matured ex-professional gamers and people who have lives besides gaming but enjoy a good skirmish every once in a while without dealing with the losers, posers, hackers, and other assorted foul-mouthed idiots who populate so many game servers these days. The people I meet on the DbT server are friendly and good at their game. Several of them are parents and a few have children old enough to play alongside them, and they do, with aplomb. But the game, Day Of Defeat is a relatively realistic WWII first-person shooter game. There’s no blood unless the server is running some mod, and no gore, but there are bodies laying around for a period before disappearing and the whole purpose of the game is to work as a team to achieve objectives and killing the other teams players. I’ve often wondered what kind of controls I’ll put on my childrens’ computer and gaming use.

Growing up, my family purchased our first computer in 1992 when I was 10 years old. It did not have any real games to begin with, but having uncles involved in technology and gaming and friends with Nintendo systems, we were cognizent of video games, and it was only a question of time before we started playing video games on our computer. Mostly we played flight simulator games, military flight simulators (it’s no fun to just fly the things, you gotta shoot and bomb and chase and dodge to have real fun), graduating up to military helicopter sims (Comanche 3 was and is an awesome game, especially when you have a 386DX and Windows 3.1 and need to run a seperate memory space to even load the game). And then the rules came. We had to finish our weekly chores on Saturday before we could play, and we could only play for half an hour per week. We were active boys and were used to entertaining ourselves outdoors most seasons of the year (in northern California, the weather is rarely nasty enough to keep the kid indoors). Now that I’m grown, I play games as I like and as I can, and I’ve found a balance that works: I don’t ever have time to play, but when I do, I’ll play until I feel like stopping.

I want my children to be able to enjoy the active and healthy lifestyle I experienced growing up. I don’t want them to be video game vegetables. I don’t intend to own every game console out there. This is one reason I’m very attracted to the Wii, it’s an active platform that requires exagerated movement of the whole body or significant portions to control most games, and the games are easy to learn, hard to master, and endlessly creative. But despite the creativity and activity and learning that the Wii offers, it does not compare to being able to imaging an entire universe all your own in a tree in your backyard (watch Bridge to Teribithia), or to dig dungeons and fortresses out the garden, or to contruct castles out of Christmas trees in mid-January.

I want my children to grow up strong and independent of techology. Not unaware or ignorant. I don’t want them to need technology to have a good time. Three weeks in Italy with a pen and paper were sheer bliss for me, even my iPod was out of juice. And at the same time I won’t mind of my children become geeks like me. In fact I’d love each of my children to be able to ‘geek out’ over something, to find something they love and to find a way to live by doing it. Geeks don’t just use computers.

I don’t have the answers yet, but there are others who are a little further along the family road than myself who are facing the same issues. In a Wired magazine article, Clive Thompson faces the issues and comes up with some interesting and practical guidlines which I may incorporate with variation into my own ruleset. GeekDad Chris Anderson was interviewed for the article as well and in reading his blog I’ve found a gem. My dad brought home discarded electronics and equipment that we boys would proceed to dissemble and deconstruct, usually ending by dropping the -con- in that last word. We even tried taking apart an old motorcycle once, though the nuts and bolts were a little too stiff for our pre-teen age muscles and we only really succeeded in removing the seat and the dials. Now I know who to thank for planting the seed of geek in me. A geek is one who seeks to know. A geek is hands on and endlessly curious. A geek learns by doing, usually finding solutions by trial and error, mostly error.

I want my children to enjoy games, both computer and board and card and made up and random. I want my children to enjoy life, not just video games. I want my children to grow up like I did. After all, I turned out ok, right?

Are we trying to win peoples’ hearts and minds or are we freeing them from terror? Hugh Hewitt at Townhall.com has written regarding the failure of our leaders to lead to victory in the War on Terror.

With my english language news limited to CNN World and BBC World these weeks in Italy, I must report that BBC has much better reporting, better anchors, better stories, and they’re only half as liberal as CNN. However, on both stations, when it comes to reporting on the War on Terror, the tenor, if not the content, is the same. While BBC appears to be loyal to the British troops and portrays them them as people with a valid and important view of the war and its’ aims as well as a heart for the people they’re fighting amongst. To CNN the soldiers are red-neck rowdies intent on blowing things, and people, apart. But if listening only to the tone of the reporting, without understanding words, a listener to either channel would come to think the reporter is some baleful expert, perpetually depressed, with an over-inflated view of their own importance and a severely pessimistic perspective on the course of events.

A theme that is stated and repeated over and over again regardless the surrounding story is that we are not making progress winning the hearts and minds of the people whose homes we are fighting around. Ponder this: Is our goal to foster warm fuzzies with the people over there? “Oh it’s terrible they all died, but at least we’d won their hearts and minds.” Or is it instead to free them from a bondage which they readily admit to suffering and desire to be free of, and to give the whole world freedom from a particularly virulent and vociferous form of terror?

Consider past wars, wars we actually won, as well as the one we lost. World War 2 was fought with untold destruction of land, history, structures, people, and their lives. When great evil is battled, terrible things happen. War, indeed, is hell. There is a price to evil. Innocent people suffer and die and each loss is unspeakably horrible. In World War 2 there were resistance fighters who chose that life of very nearly certain death, living free or dying trying. In this current war it has been said that in countries such as Afghanistan, the people have always sided with whichever side appears to be winning. We cannot expect similar resistance fighters to side with us unless it is clear we are over-running the enemy and defeating them on their ground. Were it not for the global aspirations of the entities inciting terror breeding in these regions, I’d be hard pressed to find a rationale for continuing this war. But the enemy has made it clear their aims, violent and complete subjugation of the entire world to their extreme and evil ideology and theology.

The purpose of war is to destroy, that army which succeeds in first destroying the will of the opposers is the side which wins. Because of this, an idealist is the strongest enemy, as they trust and believe in things beyond the physical and temporal, larger than himself and his enemy. Destroying his hope and vision or destroying him physically is the only way to win against him. We are here embarked on a quest to destroy the spirit, and if necessary the body, of those who have tried, are now trying, and will not cease until they have succeeded in destroying ours. Much good has and will be lost, some wounds will never heal and some wrongs will never be righted. This is the price of freedom. Is it a just price? Perhaps if the price were being extracted from us here safe behind the walls of the seas in America in a more visible way we would value what is being accomplished. But like spoiled children whose parents have paid their way through life, we do not value the end goal and stupidly rail on those who do understand and have paid the price. To quote from that firebrand of our own American Revolution, our own War for Independence, Samuel Adams:

If ye love wealth better than liberty, the tranquility of servitude better than the animating contest of freedom, go home from us in peace. We ask not your counsels or arms. Crouch down and lick the hands which feed you. May your chains set lightly upon you, and may posterity forget that ye were our countrymen.