Virtual Concert for Christmastide

Last year, I created a virtual Christmas concert featuring YouTube videos, and from what I heard from friends who "attended," it was a hit.  So I'm reprising the concept again this Christmas, with just about all of the same music from last year.

Perhaps because it's my favorite Christmas carol, I'm not satisfied with any of the videos available online for "Of the Father's Love Begotten," so I'm simply omitting it from this year's "concert."  Otherwise, I know it's bad form to have the same music year after year for one's Christmas program, but I think you'll find that these selections set an appropriately God-honoring tone and focus for pondering Christ's nativity.

Basically, just flow through the "order of worship" below, clicking on each link to open the videos in a new window, and if you want to skip certain selections, that's up to you.  Just be forewarned: you might find yourself enjoying some truly great musical masterpieces you may have never heard before!

Indeed, I invite you to consider this a worshipful experience and take about an hour of your day sometime this week and work your way through this playlist in a contemplative, yet celebratory fashion.

So, without any further ado, let us proceed with our virtual concert.


Bidding Prayer

"Oh great God, Whose divine providence has granted us salvation through Your holy Son, Whose birth we commemorate this season, we Your people bid Your help so as to worship You in spirit and truth, not just as we join in these praises to You, but as we continue throughout this week of celebration for Your many good gifts to us, not the least of which is our very reason to be joyful, our incarnate Savior.  On behalf of those who mourn, who are destitute, or who otherwise need our ministry of compassion, please be merciful during this festival season, even as You direct us to be Your hands and feet of compassion to our neighbors.  Help us to be peaceable, and to hope, and to share with others Your best Gift to us, the holy Babe of Bethlehem, even our Lord, Jesus Christ: Amen."


Opening Fanfare
J. S. Bach, "For the First Day of Christmas (Part 1)" from the Christmas Oratorio


Anticipation
"Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence"


Incarnation
"Once in Royal David's City"


The Narrative
"From the Squalor of a Borrowed Stable" by Stuart Townend

Despite its sub-par audio quality and quaint aesthetics, I chose this video because the girls who are singing come from an African orphanage, helping to represent the global breadth of God's salvific plans through the incarnation of His Son.


The Invitation
"O Come, All Ye Faithful"


Affirmation
Hector Berlioz, "The Shepherd's Farewell" from L'enfance du Christ

Thou must leave thy lowly dwelling, The humble crib, the stable bare. Babe, all mortal babes excelling, Content our earthly lot to share. Loving father, Loving mother, Shelter thee with tender care!

Blessed Jesus, we implore thee With humble love and holy fear. In the land that lies before thee, Forget not us who linger here! May the shepherd's lowly calling, Ever to thy heart be dear!

Blest are ye beyond all measure, Thou happy father, mother mild! Guard ye well your heav'nly treasure, The Prince of Peace, The Holy Child! God go with you, God protect you, Guide you safely through the wild!


Awe
"O Magnum Mysterium" from the ancient Matins for Christmas; this version composed in 1994 by Morten Lauridsen of Los Angeles, California

Latin text:  O magnum mysterium, et admirabile sacramentum, ut animalia viderent Dominum natum, jacentem in praesepio!  Beata Virgo, cujus viscera meruerunt portare Dominum Christum. Alleluia.

English translation:  O great mystery, and wonderful sacrament, that animals should see the new-born Lord, lying in a manger!  Blessed is the Virgin whose womb was worthy to bear Christ the Lord. Alleluia!

The abrupt ending of this video cuts out the concluding prayer, so I took the liberty of crafting the last sentence:

"Eternal God, Who made this most holy night to shine with the brightness of Thy one true Light, bring us who have known the revelation of that Light on Earth to see the radiance of Thy heavenly glory through Jesus Christ, Thy Son, our Lord, Who liveth and reigneth with Thee in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever, Amen.

"Christ, Who by His incarnation gathered into one things earthly and heavenly fill you with peace and goodwill, and make you partakers in the joy of His love; and the blessing of God almighty, the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, be upon you and remain with you always. Amen."


Exultation
J. S. Bach, "Gloria in Excelsis Deo" and "Et in Terra Pax" from the Mass in B Minor

Yes, we have South Koreans singing in Latin!  The Gospel isn't just for English speakers, is it?  I hope I don't need to translate, but just in case, "gloria in excelsis Deo" means "Glory to God in the highest," and "et in terra pax" means "and peace on earth."


Ascription
G. F. Handel, "Hallelujah Chorus" from Messiah

(And yes, tradition dictates that you now rise to stand in honor of the King of Kings.)

I've chosen our new friends in South Korea to lead us in Handel's penultimate worship song as I rejoice with saints around our world who are celebrating the birth of our Savior this week along with us!  They sing the famous text from the Hallelujah Chorus in their native language, yet we don't need a translator to join along with them in joyous proclamation that He whose incarnation we commemorate will truly reign forever and ever!

Hallelujah!
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Ark or Arc?

Ahoy, mates!

It's the ship that has captivated the attention of people around the world.

No, not the Titanic.  This time, we're talking about Noah's Ark.  The world's first cruise liner, or cargo ship.  Or lifeboat.

In Doredrecth, Netherlands, today, Dutch carpenter Johan Huibers officially opened for tours his hand-crafted version of the Biblical boat, a floating, life-sized, full-scale replica of what Noah originally built to save his family from God's wrath.  The book of Genesis, in the Old Testament, contains a narrative of an epic flood sent by God to punish mankind for their abominable evil.  A level of evil mankind had managed to foment against God in what was already a relatively short span of time; what has been chronicled in the Bible's first book, and in its early chapters, no less!

If God was so enraged by how His creation had turned against Him at that nascent stage in human history, what what His anger towards us be today?

You don't need to be a born-again evangelical Christian to have heard the story:  God saved the patriarch Noah because his family was the only one, out of all the people that had populated the Earth since the beginning with Adam and Eve, that still worshiped God.  God sent supernatural rains to flood His creation, and for 40 days and nights, it rained enough for water to completely cover our planet.  There was so much water, it took 150 days for the water to recede.

Some people consider this Biblical account more of a religious allegory than a historical fact.  Some believe it's a folk tale, since Christianity isn't the only religious tradition with such a story in it.  For evangelical Christians, however, Noah's Ark really was built by a guy named Noah.  The vessel really did serve as a sanctuary for representative samples of every living creature, and all life forms alive today can trace their roots back to those creatures - both human and otherwise - that exited that craft after the flood.

Dutchman Huibers is one of those believers.  For the past 20 years, he's been laboring over his replica as a way of testifying about his faith.  Back this past summer, Huibers officially completed its construction, and starting today, it's open for tours after receiving all of its necessary government certifications.  Huibers even plans on taking his ark on tour, since its water-tight hull floats on water.  However, it won't be making any trans-Atlantic crossings.  Huibers' vessel may have been constructed according to the dimensions and requirements God gave Noah that are recorded in the Bible, but the patriarch didn't have modern shipbuilding codes by which he had to abide.  No insurance company today would certify Huibers' replica as an ocean-going vessel.

With or without a cargo of lions, tigers, and bears!

Indeed, can you imagine how animal-rights groups would protest, even though all the animals roaming our planet today owe their existence to Noah's floating zoo?  Perhaps out of deference to animal lovers, as well as to control cleanliness and odor factors, Huibers has populated his vessel with stuffed animals and household pets.  And it's probably safe to assume he'll be spraying to prevent roaches, woodworm, and termites from taking up residence amongst all that wood.

Perhaps trying not to be outdone by Huibers' publicity, a small group of Pentecostals in the hills of western Maryland are also trying to remind the public that they've got their own ark project going on.  Their ark, though, being constructed by pastor Richard Greene and the church he founded, God's Ark of Safety Church in Frostburg, is being made of steel and concrete bolted into the ground.  Greene says God told him back in 1974 to build the ark, but apparently his faith didn't extend to water reaching that far west from Chesapeake Bay.  Instead, a segment of the project has been erected alongside Interstate 68, with its towering steel framework testifying to... well, folly, mostly.

At least they're anchoring this ark to the ground as a testament to God's promise that He'd never again flood the Earth.  Huibers' ark isn't designed as a "rescue" ship, either, although having it floating in water helps reduce the weirdness factor of which Greene's project helplessly reeks.  But like anything else, "weirdness" is relative.  Huibers' ark is available for weddings, parties, and corporate meetings, as well as tours.  Greene wants his ark to be a miniature pentecostal city, with a sanctuary, private school, and medical clinic all tucked inside.

While maybe it's easy to deride these spectacles as tawdry distractions from the Gospel message implicit in Noah's very need for an ark to begin with, perhaps they can help remind us that God may be slow to anger, but that doesn't mean He doesn't get angry.  Sin is abominable to Him, and while the highly-publicized sins of adultery and debauchery may be the targets of people like Huibers and Greene, the sin of self-aggrandizement might be haunting these arks in the Netherlands and western Maryland.  It's a fine line between reminding folks of the sinful world in which we live and being all holier-than-thou.

Having said that, it still would probably be cool to visit Huibers' newly-completed ark to get an in-person sense of its dimensions and how Noah must have felt being the admiral of the only ship left on our planet.

Then again, I prefer reminding myself of God's power and grace by simply spraying my garden hose into the air on a sunny day, and letting rays of light create a sparkling rainbow in the mist, God's eternal sign of His promise never to flood the Earth again.

The rainbow, after all, is an "arc," too!
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Walking In Shoes a Cop Bought

What can you do?

In this rhetoric-infused era of railing against entitlements, it's easy to forget that there are real people who need real help.  Yet whether that help should come from one's family, one's church, one's government, or a mixture of all three, the dilemma of homelessness defies all easy answers.

And by homelessness, we're not just talking about the increasing numbers of families with kids showing up at homeless shelters for a nutritious meal and a roof over their heads.  These people have found themselves running out of jobs and money, and hopefully will re-establish themselves into their community after they catch their economic breath and regroup.  This version of homelessness presents a genuine problem for our economy these days, but its contributing factors are at least relatively easy to define, and even if their solutions are still painful, at least solutions exist.

With the other kind of homelessness, however, solutions can be profoundly elusive.

Might Beggars Be Choosers?

We're talking about the guys we used to call "bums;" the greasy, dirty men - few are women, although there are some - who actually refuse to stay in homeless shelters.  They refuse to stay in shelters because such places can be dangerous, but also because many shelters are run by a slate of rules, and if patrons of these shelters wanted to abide by rules, they likely wouldn't be habitually homeless in the first place.

It's politically incorrect to assume that they have mental problems, but it's patently obvious that virtually all of them do.  How else can you explain what seems to be their preference to choose the harsh, dangerous streets of our communities than the many outstretched arms from churches, charities, and our own government offering help?

Take, for example, Jeffrey Hillman, Manhattan's shoeless man who unwittingly became the Internet's poster child of homelessness last week.  New York Police Officer Lawrence DePrimo took pity on the guy, who was ensconced on the sidewalk outside a brightly-lit shoe store near Times Square, and bought him some brand-new boots with his own money.  DePrimo's generosity was captured for posterity by a tourist's cell phone camera, and then went viral.

Although the tableaux witnessed by the tourist may be heart-warming, many jaded New Yorkers have seen it all before.  Hillman wasn't shoeless simply because he'd lost his previous pair, was he?  Might he have bartered them away for booze or narcotics?  How many other pairs of shoes might he have tricked other kind-hearted passers-by to get for him, considering he'd camped out in front of - of all places - a shoe store?  What are the chances he figured it would be easier to display bare feet and play on somebody's naivete in front of a shoe store, instead of a deli or bank?

The cop fell for it, since he's relatively young, and as we've learned, lives in the suburbs.  The tourists certainly fell for it, since New York City is one big playground for them, where human drama becomes much more poignant amidst the bizarre intensity of the city's urban density.

Still, the cop did a good thing, even if jaded New Yorkers have long ago learned that such altruism doesn't really last very long.  And indeed, we're now learning that Hillman has since been found, shoeless yet again in Manhattan.  When asked where the shoes DePrimo had bought for him had gone, Hillman won't give a direct answer, except to say that they're worth a lot of money to people of the street like himself.

If he's hidden them, as he has intimated, he's defeated the whole purpose of DePrimo's compassion and the solution that compassion sought to create:  warm protection for his feet.  It's not like DePrimo bought Hillman a gold necklace that should only be worn on special occasions.  Shoes are functional, particularly for pedestrians in New York.  If he was afraid he'd get mugged for those new shoes by other homeless people, why didn't he simply find some dirt someplace, rub his new shoes in it, scuff them up a little bit along some concrete, and instantly disguise their newness?

Chances are greater that Hillman has already hocked those shoes for more cheap liquor or hard drugs.  After all, those shoes were likely the most valuable possessions he'd acquired in quite a while.

Or were they?

According to his family in Pennsylvania and Texas, who are horrified at this turn of events, Hillman's street life is something he's basically chosen for himself.  He has an open invitation to return to his family at any time.  It's not even like he's officially homeless.  According to various social welfare agencies in New York City, Hillman has had an apartment for at least a year in the Bronx, paid for with welfare and veterans benefits.

"Homeless," my foot.

Whose Responsibility?

In a goofy tirade on CNN, writer Frida Ghitis blames efforts to stifle government assistance to poor people for Hillman's sad episode, but she fails to have done the research that New York's oft-reviled tabloids have done.  That research confirms New York City, New York State, our Social Security Administration, and our Veterans Administration have already done a lot for Hillman.  He's not one of those guys who's slipped through the cracks.  In fact, the system has worked mightily for him, despite his apparent obstinacy.  He even calls his family every year - content to be in control of the information they have about him, but not wanting them to be able to contact him.

So, what is this?  Some sort of perverse selfishness on Hillman's part?  A narcissistic grip of ambivalence towards the concern others show him, combined with the willful abuse of the government safety net that's supposed to repatriate him back into "normal" society?

Or is this sheer mental retardation of some sort?  A sincere inability to grasp reality?

What's becoming increasingly clear is that Hillman's story only reinforces old stereotypes.  The bums on the streets want to be there.  They're probably crazy, so you shouldn't go near them, or acknowledge their presence in any way.  We're throwing all this money away on people like Hillman who either don't want our help, or don't want to take the responsibility we expect recipients of public assistance to exercise as part of their social contract with the rest of us.

For lack of a better term, then, we're left with the conclusion that Hillman is crazy.  Plenty of people manipulate society, but only crazy people reject society.

Then yesterday, again in New York City, and again, near Times Square, a crazed panhandler threw a man waiting for a subway onto the tracks, in front of an oncoming train.  Witnesses say the victim, a middle-aged husband and father from Queens, had tried to calm down the panhandler, who reportedly was threatening other riders waiting on the platform.  Tragically, the victim's widow has said he'd left their home after drinking and arguing with her, so it's unclear whether inebriation played any role in his inability to crawl up onto the platform, away from the train rushing into the station.  Either way, his attacker stalked out and into Times Square, although police have detained a man in connection with this case.  Whether the suspect is indeed homeless, as many eyewitnesses have assumed, remains unknown.

Crazy, huh?

Granted, it's difficult to see somebody like Jeffrey Hillman working himself into the type of rage that would pick up a guy and throw him onto subway tracks.  But these incidents prove that mental instability takes a variety of forms, and produces a variety of outcomes.  None of which benefit anybody.

Questions of Obligation

The easy way for us to move on from these stories is to rationalize away the impact they could have on us.  And to a certain extent, marginalizing these incidents because they are relatively rare, and therefore relatively unworthy of concerted attention, allows us to excuse the elusiveness of their solutions in favor of projects we know we can get done.  We could drive ourselves crazy over-analyzing cases like Hillman's.  Did his stint in the military injure his brain somehow?  Did some romantic relationship in his life backfire badly?  People who knew him when he was growing up say Hillman's life today makes no sense compared to his stable, wholesome upbringing.  Did something snap?  And how much did it snap?

As far as the extent of society's obligation to Hillman, it appears, at least right now, that we were doing everything we knew to do.  More government, as has been suggested by some, won't have helped, unless we'd assigned Hillman with his own taxpayer-funded personal assistant, psychiatrist, and chauffeur.  Could Hillman's family have done more?  Maybe, and maybe not.  One of his brothers works for a church, but that doesn't seem to have been any tangible benefit to him.  Should it have been?

Despite all of these unanswered questions, however, should we just walk away from society's Hillmans?  Yes, New Yorkers are a jaded lot, and perhaps part of the newsworthiness of this story involves a humble beat cop's spontaneous act of compassion amidst a city teeming with homeless vagrants.  You want to hope that DiPrimo doesn't lose his tendency for compassion just because this episode has turned out so disappointingly.  But who'd be surprised if he did?

And what is the extent to which DiPrimo actually - albeit unwittingly - enabled Hillman's behavior? 

Perhaps all we can do is admit that we can't really fix stuff like this.  Perhaps we need to be content in the fact that God looks at our hearts, and He judges accordingly.  He knows DiPrimo's motivations, and well as Hillman's.

Maybe that's too much of a Sunday School answer, but meanwhile, if we're content to just ignore situations like these, what is God seeing in our own hearts?

Christ says the poor will always be with us.  That's a hard truth, isn't it?

Meanwhile, what we can do about it may involve hard questions, too.
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Update 12/6/12:  Apparently, Naeem Davis, the man police have arrested for pushing Queens resident Ki-Suck Han onto subway tracks in Times Square, is indeed homeless.  As a child, Davis may also have suffered from fetal alcohol syndrome.  At least one witness has testified that she could smell alcohol on Han's breath.

WWJD About Price Gouging?

Here's a flashback for you.

Remember the WWJD fad from the 1990's?

"WWJD" stood for "What Would Jesus Do," and was intended to help provoke Christ-like responses among believers towards all sorts of circumstances.

In other words, say, you're driving along in heavy traffic, and somebody cuts you off.  WWJD?  Instead of cursing the driver, you graciously back away, and re-construct the buffer zone you'd been maintaining between vehicles.

Or maybe you're at church, and you overhear a couple of people complaining about your pastor.  WWJD?  Well, we know Christ wouldn't sidle up to those folks and join heartily in the gossipy vilification, would He?  But would He take a posture of unquestioning defense for the pastor, without admitting maybe the complainers have a point?  Or would He simply keep walking away, praying for those malcontents under His breath, but not wanting to personally intervene and foment more antagonism?

What about when you happen upon a homeless panhandler?  If your town has a well-run homeless shelter to which you and your church contribute time and money, do you just pass by the homeless person without acknowledging their presence, assuming maybe they'd gotten kicked out of the shelter for bad behavior?  Do you pass by with a quick shout-out about the homeless shelter being just down the street, in case the panhandler isn't aware of it?  Or do you stop, give the person $10, or take them to a restaurant, or welcome them into your own home?

Would What Jesus Does Change Your Behavior?

You can see how quickly the simple WWJD mantra proves itself insufficient in addressing some surprisingly complex issues.  Thus, the WWJD trend became hollow quickly.

It wasn't enough, when you were asked a question about morality, ethics, or the propriety of a course of action, to simply utter "WWJD?" and assume you'd addressed the quandary.

Many people used WWJD as a social gospel validator, applying Biblical truths about grace and mercy inappropriately.  In some liberal circles, WWJD became a pithy excuse to chastise more conservative evangelicals who, even back then, were clamoring for welfare reform, or gun rights, or immigration reform.  Basically, liberals mistakenly assumed, Christ would have pretty much let people do whatever they wanted as long as it didn't involve ending generational poverty, carrying weapons, or enforcing national sovereignty laws.

So it scares me a little bit these days to find myself increasingly asking myself, "WWJD?"  Yes, I'm a moderate Republican, but I'm no liberal patsy.  I believe in - and am immensely grateful for - mercy and grace, but those are gifts God provides to His people along with expectations for how we're to exercise them.  Both as recipients, and benefactors.

I'm no liberal patsy, and neither is Christ.

To a certain extent, I cannot argue that our modern American culture hasn't bred a spirit of dependency on our government.  There have always been needs, and needy people, but it just makes sense to me that localized communities, starting with one's family and church, provide the best-balanced and benevolently accountable environments for meeting these personal needs.  National governments come in handy for broader efforts like building highway networks, electrical dams, sovereign defense forces, and ensuring the civil rights of each citizen.  But historically, government-run charities don't have a great track record, at least in making sure systems aren't abused and genuinely needy people don't go without.

When it comes to charity, the Biblical book of Proverbs has plenty to say both about our obligation to help the poor, and about the expectations a society is correct in having of each participant, and how each person is to contribute to their community.  And I don't disagree that over the years, our society has shifted from a bottom-up form of reliance to a top-down form, with our government at the top.

Sock It To the Ones With the Most Money?

Yet as I continue to encounter Libertarian viewpoints in our evangelical media, the question "WWJD?" has begun to flutter around in my brain.  Perhaps on account of all the empty space up there, true; but also, because some evangelicals appear to have quit the grace-and-mercy side of our faith cold-turkey.

Exibit A is an article for World magazine by D.C. Innes entitled, "Price Gouging as Neighbor Love."  Innes, a professor at New York City's conservative Kings College who lives out on Long Island, writes about how he observed the long lines and rationing at gas stations across the metropolitan area in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy.  He bemoans the unfair restrictions against price gouging imposed by New York State on its gas station owners.  He sounds convinced that it's actually a manifestation of Christ's command that we love our neighbors to let the price of gas go as high as the market will bear during a crisis.

"State law forbids anything more than a 10 percent price increase at the pump during a shortage," Innes complains.  "But while our guardians of the common good meant well in making that law, I think their kindness was cruel."

I think my jaw dropped open when I read that.  So... he thinks Jesus would endorse price-gouging?

"The market system of setting prices serves everyone," Innes claims, apparently assuming that we live in a perfect world.  Generally speaking, when a community is not reeling from a natural catastrophe, free markets do have a way of settling into a sort of stasis which benefits the most people.  But Innes doesn't believe that preying on the unfortunate is sinful behavior?

In challenging the government's need to mitigate a fuel shortage, Innes tries to argue that "there is always a shortage of some sort insofar as there is generally less of things than we would like."  But I can't think of any tangible commodities that we Americans could have more of if they were available.  What is there less of that we would like?  Lexus seems pretty good at making just enough luxury automobiles to satisfy the demand of people who can afford them.  Oreos hasn't faced an outcry over shortages of their nutritionless cookies, although devotees of Hostess Ding Dongs have recently.  In fact, the world has no shortage of food - famine these days is a political crisis, not a production crisis.

Innes is correct in pointing out that price controls don't do a good job of eliminating the black market, and he witnessed people buying gas for one price and selling it for double to people waiting at the end of long lines.  But all that proves is that sin corrupts our world, not that price controls automatically - or solely - cause black markets.  Black markets flourish in countries - or even neighborhoods in America - where some products are officially unavailable.  Would Innes blame the despicable proliferation of child porn on the black market, for example, on price controls?

It's hard to tell where morality fits into his viewpoint.  "If gas stations had been able to raise their prices to reflect the radically reduced supply," Innes postulates, "lines would have been shorter, and there would have been easier access to gas supplies for those most in need of it."  How does anybody know that if there were no price controls, only the people who most needed gas would have easy access to it?  The only way you can determine that is by placing the proposition's value not on the person "needing" the gas, but a person's ability to pay what the market can charge.

Talk About Reviling the One Percenters!

And, voilà, you have the indelible scourge of Libertarianism, folks!  The value in a Libertarian economy is not on the person, but on the person's financial worth.  What can they pay?

The value of a person becomes not who that person is, what they might need the gas for, or what factors have impacted their life in a way that prevents them from paying exorbitant prices.  The only value a person has comes from whether or not they can play the higher price.  Money becomes more important than the person.

For example, suppose a medical doctor and a hedge fund manager need fuel for their cars.  Sure, the doctor may be able to afford quadruple the price to drive to the hospital and perform a life-saving operation.  But if the hedge fund manager can afford ten times the price or more, should finances be the sole reason that doctor would be prevented from getting the necessary fuel?

What would Jesus do?  This past Sunday, the pastor at my church pointed out in his sermon that Jesus healed the ten lepers, but only one went back to thank Him.  Was Christ's healing power any less lavish on the other nine?  Apparently not, since His grace doesn't depend on how well we thank Him for what He does for us.  Is this the same Christ who would mock His people by setting the price for what we need at a level only a few could pay?

When the Bible talks about fairness in our business dealings, mandates like "accurate and honest weights," wealth being worthless in the "day of wrath," and not taking advantage of others are interwoven with accounts of Boaz letting Ruth collect food for free.  Free!  And maybe I'm being woefully literal by assuming "honesty" is concerned less with how much money you can exact from a customer, and more with being able to look your customers in the eye the next day.  However, don't you have to be a pretty rigorous Gospel revisionist to believe that loving our neighbor means figuring how much they're willing to pay for something they desperately need?

God has shown us what is good and what He requires of us.  We're to "act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God." 

Must only WWJD bracelet-wearing, coffee-mug-holding social gospel liberals believe that?

Then again, would Jesus have given away the gasoline?  Probably not, since it wasn't the gas station owners' fault that Hurricane Sandy crimped access to fuel.  Nor could the industry control whether they had electricity to transfer their gas or not.  Selling fuel during a crisis is not what's wrong here.

So, would Jesus condone price gouging?  Since neither penalizing nor accommodating people based solely on their net worth is Biblical, I humbly stand in opposition to Professor Innes and say that no, He wouldn't.

If you believe He would, however, and your faith controls your politics, then maybe we've found another reason for why a certain political party lost this month's presidential election.
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Stripping Fables from Christ's Nativity

Drives.  Me.  Nuts.

What drives me nuts?  Well, first is the realization that since we've hit November, from now until Christmas Day, we're going to be bombarded with Christmas music practically everywhere we go.

And I use the term "Christmas music" loosely, of course!  Because what really drives me nuts is that so much of the "music" that's become part of our North American Christmas repertoire mythologizes the birth of Christ into some snowy, fuzzy fable.

Christmas Is No Myth

Aren't the facts of Christ's Incarnation far less pretty, cosseted, and downright white - both in terms of culture and snow - than we western Caucasian evangelicals insist on stereotyping them as?

Mary was a pregnant teenager who'd just finished a grueling trek forced upon her and her fiancé - who wasn't the father of her baby - by their imperious government.  They ended up in a stable, with smelly hay, smelly farm animals, smelly excrement from those smelly farm animals, and no obstetrician, neonatal nurse, or midwife in sight.  Their first visitors after Christ's birth were a group of illiterate, smelly shepherds, who couldn't stop rambling on about their frightful vision of angels in the night sky.

In addition, this all took place probably in March or April, not the dead of winter, and the magi were just starting out on their journey after seeing the star in the East.  It would take them a couple of years to make it to the place where the young Christ child was.  And by then, it wouldn't have been a stable.

And guess what - it hardly ever snows in temperate Bethlehem.

If we told the story authentically, wouldn't we see that the reality of Christ's birth was actually more profound than the insipid fantasy into which our culture has polished it?  Our King of Kings came to His Creation in such a lowly manner!  Thankfully, some of our songwriters have gotten it right, and attempted to marvel at what God considered to be His perfect way of introducing Christ to this planet.  But it's hard for merchants to sell Christmas as an arduous, unsanitary, disenfranchised, and bizarre event.  And unfortunately, the evangelical church has been mostly complicit with the Nativity's commercializers in making the Incarnation a sellable product for once-a-year churchgoers.

Instead of a more accurately awestruck accounting of the birth of this world's holy Savior.

Christmas Music Needs Authenticity

Regular readers of my blog essays know that I'm an unabashed advocate for classical hymnody.  I actually believe that what we consider to be traditional corporate worship provides, on the whole, a focus on Christ and God's holiness that comes closer to what our Trinity expects when we gather together to honor Him.  I'm willing to contend that culturally, our genre of classical music has become less a Caucasian, European contrivance as much as it has become a universally-renowned, broadly-appreciated style of stately repertoire uniquely suited to the worship of God, no matter where we're born, or in what society we've been raised.

Yes, that means some expressions of culture are better than others.  It's a politically incorrect thing to say, and, some think, a woefully impertinent thing to believe.  But it's true.  No human culture is perfect, or even ideal.  And many are utterly unBiblical.  Doesn't this mean that, when it comes to how we express our adoration of God to Him, particularly in public, we can't rely on cultural norms to be adequate?  Just because we're under the misapprehension that God values all cultural norms equally?

Don't we need to discriminate between what's good, and what's adequate, or even downright inappropriate?

When it comes to such cultural institutions as Christmas, shouldn't we resist the urge to let culture dictate our worship?  Shouldn't communicating the glory of Christ's birth be done with as much theological and historical integrity as possible?

It Depends On Your Definition of "Midwinter"

Consider, then, one of these seasonal songs driving me nuts.  It's called "In the Bleak Midwinter," and the text is by noted poet Christina Rossetti, who lived from 1830 until 1894.  For the most part, these lyrics withstand basic theological scrutiny fairly well.  Yet Rossetti incorporates snowy winter themes and references the Wise Men in a way that bolsters the fictitious narrative of popular Christmas lore, which does a grave disservice to the historical accuracy of Christ's birth.

1. In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan, earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone; snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow, in the bleak midwinter, long ago.

2. Our God, heaven cannot hold him, nor earth sustain; heaven and earth shall flee away when he comes to reign. In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed the Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.

3. Angels and archangels may have gathered there, cherubim and seraphim thronged the air; but his mother only, in her maiden bliss, worshiped the beloved with a kiss.

4. What can I give him, poor as I am? If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb; if I were a Wise Man, I would do my part; yet what I can I give him: give my heart.

Thematically, the references to a "bleak midwinter" could be argued as being allegorical to the span of quiet time between the writing of the Old and New Testaments, when it's widely thought that God's presence had been generally withheld from our planet.  Then too, since centuries ago, the Roman Catholic Church had moved the observance of Christmas to coincide with pagan celebrations of the Winter Solstice, which symbolizes a time of death between the seasons of decay and renewal, a "bleak midwinter" presents a poetic linkage between mortal sin and salvation.

For the artistic among us, appreciating these delicate abstractions may be a permissible way to forgive the historical inaccuracies that help to mythologize Christmas.  However, their doing so does little to convey the universal application of the Christmas story to cultures where references to snow and its allegorical qualities risks tilting the Incarnation towards a Western - and therefore, foreign - aesthetic.  Granted, the Holy Spirit can overcome any obstacle we Christians can put in the way of Christ's redemptive work, but how loving is it for us to intentionally complicate parts of the Gospel?

Let's Liberate Christmas From Ethnocentrism!

Maybe you don't mind singing songs that are exclusive to your culture and cohort.  And in terms of everyday socialization, doing so isn't wrong, in and of itself.  But when it comes to the Gospel, shouldn't we be seeking to free God's Good News from the shackles of our own cultural bondage?  The message of God becoming incarnate for us is a global message.  And it's not our message - it's God's!

For a full half of our planet, the midwinter is hardly bleak and snowy.  For them, it's like North America's and Europe's summertime!  If we sang Rossetti's song in Australia or Nigeria, we'd have to throw in the caveat, "well, this was written by a European white woman; you'll have to free it from its cultural baggage."

Maybe there are some Nigerian Christmas songs that talk about how hot and dusty it must have been during the winter when Christ was born.  See how awkward that would be for us?

Therefore, shouldn't Christ's Nativity be equally relevant to all of God's Elect, no matter where we live?  Or what our winters look like?

I'm not interested in preserving Western hymnody simply for nostalgia's sake.  I think the bulk of Western hymnody should be applicable to as many cultures as possible, because it has that much theological and artistic integrity.  It may have originated in Western cultures, but just like the message it declares, it can be universal in its applicability.

That's why it drives me nuts when church choirs like the one I'm in have to sing fluff like "In the Bleak Midwinter" during Advent.

How bleak, indeed!
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TO HELP WITH HURRICANE SANDY RELIEF EFFORTS:

• Redeemer Presbyterian Church in New York City
• The Salvation Army of Greater New York
• The Food Bank for New York City

Who Wronged This Wright?

I didn't think it was possible.

Granted, I'm just an amateur student of architecture myself, but I'm still dismayed when somebody says they've never heard of Frank Lloyd Wright.

Fallingwater, the Kaufmann country house at Mill Run, PA

Wright was one of America's greatest architects, and popularizer of the prairie style of housing design that has become ubiquitous across North America's suburbs.  About 500 of his commissions actually got built during both sides of the turn of the 20th Century, but he designed twice that many projects, some of which are just as famous as what got built.

His most renowned commission was Fallingwater at Mill Run, Pennsylvania.  To this day, his exquisite multi-level stone and concrete country house for the Kaufmann family, perched over a real waterfall amongst elegant trees and grand slabs of rocks, is considered one of the best - if not the best - piece of American design in our country's history.

Unfortunately, his talent was only outmatched by his ego, yet considering both of those, and aside from some stunning projects in suburban Los Angeles, the bulk of his work was built in relatively uncelebrated places.  Places like Oak Park, Illinois, one of Chicago's first suburbs.  Wisconsin.  And Arizona.

The House Scholars Forgot and the Family Sold

Ahh, yes, Arizona!  After spending years on the frigid prairie around Spring Green, Wisconsin, Wright relocated his design studio, which he called Taliesin, to the much warmer climes of Scottsdale, in Arizona's desert.  In suburban Phoenix.  Which became his base of operations from the 1930's until his death in 1959.

Despite - or more likely, because of - his famous career, Wright had a miserable family life.  He cheated on his wives countless times, seemed to father children left and right, and made little effort to hide any of it.  Yet one of those poor children, David, received a special gift from his father:  a custom-designed house near Camelback Mountain, surrounded by an orange grove.  David and his wife, Gladys, lived there for decades, with her surviving him and eventually passing away in 2008, at the age of 104.  Their heirs, three granddaughters, sold the house - a unique spiral of concrete and steel - for $2.8 million.

Turns out, the property is no longer surrounded by orange groves, but sprawling mansions and luxury condominiums, all relishing their rarefied air in the shadows of Phoenix's rustic Camelback centerpiece.  The Frank Lloyd Wright original may have been sold for three million based on the pedigree of its designer, but somehow, the house ended up being flipped - for much less money - to a couple of carpetbagging developers from Idaho.

Two guys who'd never heard of Frank Lloyd Wright.  And had no idea a place like Phoenix, Arizona was home to such an architectural treasure.

They bought the place with plans to tear it down, subdivide the lot, and construct two brand-new miniature estates in its place.  Apparently without any research into the history of the property.

Not that a cursory inquiry into the home's provenance would have yielded anything significant.  According to the New York Times, which has been faithfully following this developing story for the world's architecture community, not much is known about this house, even though it was built in 1952.  David and Gladys did not want the elder Wright's notoriety to infect their family's home life, so they never welcomed the type of academic study that has chronicled other Wright designs.  Basically, it had fallen off the radar of many Wright scholars.

But not completely off of everybody's radar!  When word got out that a vintage Wright project had slipped into the hands of indifferent developers, suddenly preservationists were coming out of the woodwork to save the place.

Past Perfect Preservation

The David and Gladys Wright Home in Phoenix, AZ

It's a clever gem of a house, with a circular ramp from the ground up to a second level, under which is tucked a carport.  It's been described as shaped like a desert rattlesnake coiled to strike, but in actuality, its form is far less menacing.  Gracious and warm, with a delightful garden in its center, David and Gladys' home features many of the personal touches Frank Lloyd himself was famous for designing, such as chairs, windows, and other fixtures and furnishings specifically original to this home, and still in remarkably good condition.

For better or worse, however, those Idaho developers only saw money to be made.  A funky old house with a floorplan too odd for conventional buyers, and lots of prime real estate begging to welcome yet more McMansions.  And that red glazed plaque by the front door?  Frank Lloyd Wright's iconic "logo," as it were?  So what?

Blame the developers for only having dollar signs in their eyes if you like, or blame the public school system in Meridian from which they graduated (they were friends from high school), but isn't it also curious that it took some out-of-state developers to light a fire under Arizona's preservationists?  According to the landmark preservation document slapped together in the city's recent efforts to stave off its demolition, the property is described as "the most significant work within the city of Phoenix by the most significant architect in American history."

If that's true, and it probably is, why did it take its imminent demise, four years after the death of its last original owner, before scholars, designers, preservationists, and critics rallied around its cause?

According to the Times, Arizona law is strong on property rights and weak on historic preservation.  Perhaps that reality plays some role in why Arizona's Wright aficionados are having to scramble with a demolition moratorium that will only last three years anyway.  But who dropped the ball when the elderly Mrs. David Wright finally passed?  In 2008?  When plenty of Arizona scholars should have been aware that a prized Wright design could be in peril?

Maybe the family should be blamed, since it doesn't seem as though they cared much about the home's heritage.  If the granddaughters simply needed the money, couldn't a trust have been formed to purchase the property from them and preserve it?  Many heirs sell the family homestead for a variety of reasons, but this wasn't just any old family homestead.  To a certain degree, as the historic preservation landmark request states, this house is a remarkable amenity for Phoenix, which as a relatively new city, boasts precious little historic architecture.

Money Hounds Save White Elephants

Granted, money doesn't flow amongst Phoenix society like it does in Chicago and New York, where historic preservation is a way of life, and plenty of deep-pocketed donors with ready access to cash gladly fund a variety of preservation efforts.  And architects, in general, aren't the most wealthy of professionals.  That $2.8 million is chump change to a New York hedge fund manager, but for an Arizona designer, it's likely several years' salary.

Perhaps this is typical of what happens in "fly-over country," where other deserving architectural gems fail to attract the attention of angel investors willing to fund a piece of American history for posterity's sake.  It's unlikely any other buildings of this home's stature have simply been bulldozed for lack of interest, but should these developers from Idaho be left holding the bag when they try to do it on a previously forgotten Wright house?  If this property wins historic preservation designation for even three years, that's three years that the developers won't be able to recoup any of their investment.  Even if they got a good price for it back when nobody else was watching, and even though they had no clue about its provenance.

To their credit, now that the Idaho developers have been educated on the home's value, they admit tearing it down doesn't make the most sense.

"Does the house deserve landmark status? Yes. This place needs to be preserved,” one of them conceded to the Times. “But when three Wright granddaughters sell it for $2.8 million, for me to carry the cross for Frank Lloyd Wright, that’s not fair.”

And that's true, isn't it?  Why should two developers from Idaho, even though they'd never heard of Frank Lloyd Wright until all this mess blew up in their faces, be stuck with the cost of something the Wright family and Phoenix preservationists either couldn't - or didn't want to - assume themselves?

Frankly, altruism can only go so far.  Sometimes lessons are most strongly learned from loss.  If Wright's family and his present-day admirers can't scrape together the money necessary to purchase this home and preserve it, and since the property was acquired fairly and squarely, why not let the ball bounce where it may?

Even if it's a wrecking ball?
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When Waiting Wearies

Waiting.

Waiting, waiting... waiting.

It's what a lot of us seem to be doing a lot these days, isn't it?  Waiting.

I'm waiting for a writing job that will pay my bills.  Perhaps you're waiting for a job, too.  Employment is something for which many folks are waiting.  I just finished reading an article online about a run-down rust-belt town waiting for the "next big thing" to come along and revive their local economy and drive down their high unemployment rate.  Some experts say corporate America is waiting for this November's presidential election to be over before making long-term plans regarding investing in new products or new employees.

Waiting can be excruciatingly frustrating.  Thousands of New Yorkers were waiting on idle subway trains earlier this week, waiting for glitches to be exorcised from the MTA's byzantine switching systems.  If you've ever been at the mercy of public transit when things aren't working, you know how maddening it can be.  Maybe you wait in long lines of bumper-to-bumper traffic during your morning and evening commutes, day after day, mocking the word "rush" in rush hour.

We wait, and wait, and wait some more.  About the only thing for which we never have to wait is, well... waiting.

The difference between people who simply sit and wait, and people who keep busy while they're waiting, may actually provide the spark that ignites the "next big thing" our society seems to be waiting for economically, politically, and even emotionally.

I've been writing this blog, trying to ignite the interest of somebody who believes, as an editor of mine once told me, that I "deserve to be read."  The rust belt town languishing from the offshoring of its manufacturing economy is investing in higher education and new business incubators, hoping to somehow differentiate themselves from the plethora of small towns across America doing the same exact thing in the hopes of jump-starting their economies.

Maybe what you're waiting for has nothing to do with jobs, or getting to your job.  Maybe you're waiting for a report back from your doctor.  Maybe you're waiting to learn if you're going to be a parent, or a grandparent.   Maybe you're just waiting for your child's soccer practice to be over so you can have dinner.

Waiting By the Side of the Road

Then too, sometimes what we're waiting for, and what we get, are two different things.  We wait, thinking we know what we're waiting for, but do we?

About two thousand years ago, a blind beggar was confined to the roadside outside the gates of Jericho, an ancient city in what is now the political state of Israel.  This blind beggar's name was Bartimaeus, and although we don't know how old he was, or whether he'd been blind from birth or from some disease, we can easily assume most of Jericho's population probably knew him, or knew who he was.  They'd likely seen him there for years, begging and waiting.

Regardless of how long he hadn't been able to see, you can imagine that being blind for any length of time in that culture would have been sheer misery.  It's bad enough today in North America, where our culture is quite progressive in curing, treating, or providing assistance for people with vision problems.  Two thousand years ago, blindness was a virtual prison.

About all a blind person could do back then was take up a spot alongside a road and beg all day long, every day, and hope that enough sympathetic passers-by will toss enough money their way to buy a simple supper.

Waiting, all day.  Sometimes calling out when you hear people approaching, then slumping back against a wall or rock, and waiting some more.

Waiting, calling, begging.  But most likely, mostly waiting.  Waiting in utter darkness, even as you can feel the sun beating down on you.

Suddenly, Bartimaeus heard more than just the shuffling of passers-by.  There was a commotion, and he learned that Jesus of Nazareth was going to be passing right by his spot by the road!  Maybe Jesus would heal him!

He had to get Christ's attention.

So he hollered out, calling on Jesus to have mercy on him.  He made such a ruckus and racket, calling out so desperately, that people in the crowd, who had relegated him to the sidelines of life, sitting out of the way of normal people, told him to be quiet.

Yet undoubtedly, this was just such an opportunity for which Bartimaeus would likely have never before dreamed.  Maybe he'd spent his time waiting by the side of the road not only for enough money to make it through the day, but waiting for death itself.  The commotion he himself causes in this passage creates the impression that he'd immediately realized this might be his one chance in his entire life to be healed from blindness - and he was frantically hoping to seize the moment.

Christ is the Creator of Perfect Timing

Christ, of course, knew Bartimaeus was nearby on the roadside.  And he stopped.

The Son of God stopped, just like He does when each of His children call out to Him.  And Christ called Bartimaeus to Himself.

Quickly, the crowd changed its tune, turned to Bartimaeus, and said, "well, what do you know!  You've gotten His attention, and He wants to talk to you."

As you can imagine, Bartimaeus didn't need any more urging.  He jumped to his feet, likely needing to be steadied by people in the crowd who only moments before were telling him to shut up.  He threw off his cloak, perhaps so fully assured that Christ would heal him, he'd be able to retrieve it after his miracle, and he could see where it had fallen.

And sure enough, Christ performed his miracle, based on his blunt, honest, earnest faith.

I don't know about you, but I'm waiting for many things, not just a job.  You're probably waiting for many things, too.  Most of them aren't as dire as waiting for the remotest of chances to be healed from something as grave as blindness.  But yet the emotional, spiritual, and mental blindnesses with which we suffer may still be things we have to wait through until God's appointed time, when our waiting will finally be over.

Waiting can only be true agony when you don't trust the Person for Whom you're waiting.

May the Lord grant us the grace to wait as long as He would have us wait, and to wait with patience, hope, and even joy.

As the psalmist has so poignantly phrased it, wait on the Lord.  Be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart.  Wait, I say, on the Lord!
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Big Bird Isn't the Public's Enemy

He's big, he's yellow, and despite his age, he's still quite popular.

He's Big Bird, and if Mitt Romney gets his way, his neighborhood on Sesame Street is about to be gentrified.  Instead of subsidized housing, it's going to be free market rates.  Conservatives think that's a good thing.

But is it?

Won't You Be My Neighbor?

America's venerable Public Broadcasting Corporation has been in the crosshairs before by right-wingers looking to make a public spectacle out of slashing our government's budget.  Stop funding PBS, the mantra has gone, and look at how much of our debt will disappear!  If the liberal-leaning PBS can't survive on its own, it isn't as good as its boosters claim it is anyway.

Such bluster plays well to the portion of America's populace that likes to politicize things at the expense of their own morality.  Think about it:  PBS doesn't feature cuss words or sexually suggestive programming during prime time, but plenty of public television's conservative naysayers enjoy their Desperate Housewives, Office, Modern Family, Glee, and Married With Children episodes in all of their raunchy glory on the commercial networks.

Fox, NBC, ABC, and CBS claim that they need to air such morally vapid shows because they couldn't survive financially if they didn't.  But what makes conservatives think PBS couldn't survive on its own?  And if it could, would they be happier if PBS began featuring as much skin and perversion as the regular networks?  Sure, it's great PR for talk radio's blowhards and right wing political wonks to spin a story of waste when it comes to public broadcasting, but when you compare the level of programming on PBS to the lowest common denominator of perversity elsewhere on the TV dial, aren't we taxpayers getting a pretty good return on our investment?

Do you realize we're subsidizing PBS at $222.5 million per year?  The horror!  75% of that money goes to PBS on TV, and 25% to PBS on the radio (think NPR).  Granted, that's a lot of money, except when compared to our federal budget, which is $3.8 trillion.  PBS costs each of us Americans about $1.35 per year in taxes - a heavy burden that Romney claims isn't worth all of the education, art, science, and community programming that PBS broadcasts 24/7.

Brought To You Today By the Letters P, O, L, I, T, I, C, S

One of the consistent reasons conservatives like to hold PBS as a prime example of what's wrong with our federal budget stems from the common complaint that public broadcasting has a liberal bias.  And yes, when it does show a bias, it's hardly towards the right of anything.  For example, it's hard to deny that their science shows pretend the theory of Evolution is irrefutable fact.  Many conservatives also bristle at the urban legends about Bert and Ernie being gay lovers, which they're not, or the network's other childhood shows pushing a socialist agenda on our impressionable children - a claim conservative parents make with a straight face, while letting their kids consume all sorts of hedonistic carnality on other channels.  And while it's true that PBS's venerable talk show hosts Charlie Rose, who always tries to outdo his sophisticated guests in pomposity, and Bill Moyers, with his pious religious fuzziness, tend to advance blatantly liberal biases in their shows, theirs still doesn't sink to the vitriolic rhetoric of right-wing radio's partisan stars that conservatives consume for free.

If conservatives really want to see unabashed liberal propaganda on PBS, however, just go ahead and pull its taxpayer subsidies, and watch what happens.  With its undisputed reputation as a bastion of creative programming, PBS will undoubtedly have no problem wooing left-wing sponsors and limousine liberals to swoop in as angel investors and replace that public funding.  And then who'll be in complete control of one of the most ubiquitous childrens learning channels on the planet?

Right now, with PBS receiving public subsidies, the American people can complain to their elected officials whenever they perceive it to be crossing some ideological line.  The political curse conservatives consider PBS to be is actually an effective way they can hold public broadcasting's feet to the fire of bipartisan equity.  $222 million per year is just enough money to make PBS executives take conservatives seriously when it comes to questionable programming content.  If the George Soros'es, Bill Gates'es, Al Gore's and Oprah Winfrey's of America get to replace taxpayers and underwrite PBS unilaterally, what voice will conservatives have when it comes to what PBS puts on the air?

Isn't having that voice worth $1.35 per year to you?

Not that PBS is just itching to dive into the deep end of liberal bias.  If their directors really wanted to abdicate any semblance of moderate neutrality, instead of running panicked pledge drives, they'd be lobbying Congress for going solo.  Right-wingers may feel threatened by folks at PBS who share different viewpoints, but compared with what could happen if it went completely private, the money we spend to help keep it "public" isn't the real threat here.

The real threat is the unknown:  who takes over the money wagon at PBS if Romney pulls the plug on taxpayer subsidies?  Right now, Romney and everybody else who thinks "firing Big Bird" is a good idea need to be grateful that PBS is content to fight for its relatively paltry quarter-billion dollars every year.

Yes, yes, yes, that's a lot of money!  But to put it in context, this past winter, NBC grossed $245 million just in advertisements during the Super Bowl.  And you still don't think we're getting our money's worth out of PBS?

There is value in us helping to pay Big Bird's rent.  Especially since we might not be able to afford the alternative.
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At My Church, the First Shall Be Next!

Notice 8/17/14:  I am aware from following the Google Analytics data for this blog that there are people online searching for information regarding the self-confessed relapse of Dr. Skip Ryan.  Since Dr. Ryan himself has published a personal letter to Redeemer Seminary, from which he has resigned, I'm providing a link to that letter here so you can hear this from him.

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This coming Sunday, my church is installing its newest pastor.

Who was also my church's first pastor.

Since its founding in 1991, Dr. Joseph "Skip" Ryan served Park Cities Presbyterian in Dallas as its very first senior minister before resigning in disgrace in 2006.  He was hooked on prescription narcotics, and spent several months at an out-of-state drug rehabilitation center.  His road to recovery has been challenging on a number of fronts, not the least of which being questions swirling around his opportunities for future ministry in the body of Christ, the church.

Needless to say, God has performed a work of transformation in not only Dr. Ryan, but his wife, both of whom have remained at Park Cities Presbyterian throughout this multi-year ordeal, and have emerged with a testimony of God's grace that is shaping a profound new emphasis on how they're serving God and His people.

Earlier this year, I wrote on this blog about the announcement at church regarding Dr. Ryan's reinstatement as a part-time associate pastor over our flock, and this Sunday, his official installation in that post will signal a new era of ministry in his life, our church, and even the broader evangelical community, as more and more people become exposed to God's work in his faith, his health, his marriage, and his career.

Instead of writing an essay about them, I'm providing a link to a video my church has made.  In it, both Dr. Ryan and his wife, Barbara, a force of spiritual ministry in her own right, discuss their journey and their "story of rescue," as we like to frame the Gospel of Salvation at Park Cities Presbyterian.

I had the privilege of sharing dinner with them at a mutual friend's birthday party last month, but I realize many of my dear readers will never meet Skip and Barbara this side of Heaven.  Nevertheless, the new life they now live in Christ may just help you see what Christ can do in yours!
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PS - On that link to the video you'll find a couple of other links to audio from a seminar the Ryan's led at our church in which they more deeply explored things that God has been teaching them during this transformative time.

Driving Change

Technology is driving some big changes.

Especially when it comes to how we drive.  Or... don't drive.

And change, as friends and regular readers of this blog know, isn't something I'm fond of.  Well, more accurately, it depends on what's changing, and the degree to which it's changing, as to whether I'll embrace it or not.

When it comes to the rapid developments in driverless cars, however, the automobile revolution some experts predict is imminent presents a mixed bag for me.  I can appreciate some of its major benefits, but I'm not sure those benefits can outweigh its major drawbacks.

This is so big, I'm also not sure it will happen as quickly as some people want it to.

Removing Drivers From Driving Has Its Advantages

Back when I was in my teens and twenties, I used to enjoy driving.  As I've gotten older, however, and the driving population has gotten younger and far more reckless, I now consider driving more of a necessary evil than a fun way to spend some time getting from Point A to Point B.  To many Americans, driving is more of a waste of time than a pleasurable experience.  To the extent that so many of us think we can multi-task behind the wheel, it makes sense to try and take operating the motor vehicle in which you're traveling out of that list of tasks.  Few people multi-task well, especially when driving.

The theory behind driverless cars is that once the driver is removed from the driving equation, automobiles will automatically become an incredibly safe mode of transportation.  With the key word being "automatically."  Technology continues to provide amazing advancements in a robot's ability to sense motion, speed, the proximity of other objects, and infinite adjustments to calculations monitoring all of these variables in real time.  If the basic premise of "autopilot" that airplanes have featured for decades can now be extrapolated to the comparatively lowly car, what's stopping us, except more technology?

In their push to accelerate development of the necessary technology, Nevada has already licensed driverless cars, and California did so this week.  Google is testing some prototypes, along with other entrepreneurs hoping to get in on the ground floor of what a lot of people hope is the next big thing in transportation logistics.

After all, it won't be just passenger cars that can use driverless technology.  Cargo vans and even 18-wheelers could theoretically deploy the same technology and remove the oft-maligned profession of truck driver from the employment pool.  Not to mention our roadways.

It has been suggested that individual vehicle ownership itself could become anachronistic, as this new breed of cars becomes less an item for personal consumption, and more a generic mode of conveyance.  Parking lots might become extinct, as people simply dial up a transportation pod from a local fleet, use it to get wherever they need to go, and when they disembark from that transportation pod, it becomes available for the next call.

Kind of like a driverless cab.

Perhaps the very components of cars that make them so heavy and dependent on fossil fuels would become obsolete, since each transportation pod, programmed as they'll be on the street grid, won't need crumple zones, bumpers, and reinforced doors.  Traffic accidents will evaporate, claim experts, saving thousands of lives a year, and preventing thousands more injuries.

Remember, with driverless cars, computers do all of the driving, making split-second accommodations for varying traffic conditions that could otherwise cause a real person to make mistakes behind the wheel.

Yes, we'd probably still have traffic jams during rush hour, but they likely won't be as severe, since computers would be monitoring traffic flow, and there'd be no accidents to cause the traffic jams to begin with.  There would be no fender-benders, since computers would keep safe distances from other vehicles.  Nor would there be rubberneckers, gawking at accidents from the opposite side of a freeway, because first, there'd be no wrecks, and second, computers don't gawk at the misfortune of others.  Computers don't get drunk, tired, or distracted, either.  Neither do they speed.

See how so much of our modern life in post-industrial America would change with driverless cars?  Probably no more car ads, since the cars would all perform basically the same.  It would be more like a bunch of enclosed golf carts, differentiated only by whatever bling with which an individual owner - if there are people who'd still want to own their own transportation pod - would want to customize it.  Hey, back when horse and buggies were a conventional mode of transport, there was little customization, so maybe what was old could become new again.

Many cities around the world today have implemented bike-share programs, where people can rent bicycles in different parts of the city, and ride them to their destination, where another bike rental facility would receive the bicycle, and another person can rent it for wherever they need to go.  If parking lots don't become extinct, they'll likely become centralized rental depots for these transportation pods, kinda like today's car rental lots at airports.

Switching Gears

Yes, it all sounds rather weird, and would take some getting used to, but the savings in lives alone represents a hard benefit to downplay, doesn't it?

With all of the efficiencies and safety improvements we'll likely achieve with driverless cars, however, I see some significant drawbacks.

First, what will Government Motors (er, I mean - General Motors), Ford, and the other legacy car manufacturers have to say about this transportation transformation?  It's unlikely that driverless cars will be able to retain the aura and intrigue of what's become a conventional aspect of car ownership - each model's driveability.  If it doesn't matter how quickly a car can accelerate or stop, or maneuver out of a dangerous situation, who's going to buy one simply for the hood ornament or nameplate?

The loss of the driving aesthetic is potentially the greatest liability for driverless cars, since by their very description, the reason most customers are willing to pay what they are for the cars they buy has to do with how they drive.  If it doesn't matter how they drive, or what kind of safety features they have, then car manufacturers will pretty much be trying to push those glorified golf carts.  After all, you can bet the government isn't going to be crazy about allowing driverless cars to travel very fast - they'll be more interested in the environmental value of reduced carbon emissions.

And speaking of speed, certain intangible conveniences will be lost with driverless cars.  How many people speed to make up for lost time?  In a driverless car, you can only go as fast as the government will physically let your car be programmed, and only on prescribed roadways.  If you're running late, you likely won't have time to program off-the-cuff shortcuts into your transportation pod's GPS.

Also, remember that the speed at which your car travels is also the speed at which every occupant in the car is traveling.  Therefore, just because you won't be driving, your car's computer will still need to compensate for the reaction time necessary in case it encounters, say, a dog running out into the street.  If you're working on your laptop computer or drinking a cup of hot coffee, and not paying particular attention to the roadway being navigated by your car, you could suffer injuries inside its passenger compartment if your car is traveling too fast for emergency maneuvers.

What else is there?  How about money, since many government entities count on speeding tickets for much-needed revenue.  Road construction costs would remain the same, while undoubtedly, new technology would have to be purchased by transportation departments to help manage computerized traffic flow.  Even though each transportation pod wouldn't need expensive safety features, somebody's going to have to pay for all of the new driverless technology, and you can bet its developers will be looking for a hefty ROI as well.  If the passenger car looses its allure as a commodity, who - or what government agency - will purchase them?

Then there are emergency vehicles, such as fire engines, police cars, and ambulances, who will still need to navigate the same streets as driverless cars, but at greater speeds, and likely with less flexibility in terms of inputting GPS coordinates for the latest crisis environment.  What about inclement weather?  Will driverless cars need to crawl at a snail's pace just because they detect water, ice, or snow on the road surface, or will they be able to adjust for varying conditions being experienced not only by your vehicle, but other vehicles concurrently traversing different patches of slush, mud, and other hazards just another lane away from you?

Indeed, the scenarios and complications that need to be worked out before driverless cars become commonplace seem far more numerous than the benefits of driverless cars.  It seems quite unlikely that I'll be having to face this drastic transportation - and cultural - revolution in my lifetime.  Maybe that's why I can look at the benefits of driverless cars with such surprising sanguinity.  I can appreciate the same things their ardent advocates appreciate, but I don't need to worry about having to fret through the details of making the switch myself.

Some people sometimes say change can't come soon enough.  In this case, change seems to be coming soon enough to suit my tastes!

That's the kind of change I like.
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Christ Got Into the Boat

22 Immediately Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead of him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowd. 23 After he had dismissed them, he went up on a mountainside by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, 24 but the boat was already a considerable distance from land, buffeted by the waves because the wind was against it. 25 During the fourth watch of the night Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake. 26 When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. "It's a ghost," they said, and cried out in fear. 27 But Jesus immediately said to them: "Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid." 28 "Lord, if it's you," Peter replied, "tell me to come to you on the water." 29 "Come," he said. Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. 30 But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, "Lord, save me!" 31 Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. "You of little faith," he said, "why did you doubt?" 32 And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. 33 Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, "Truly you are the Son of God."  Matthew 14:22-33


For the past two Sundays, my church's pastor has been preaching from Matthew 14 and the account of Christ and Peter walking on the water.

And while his sermons have explored lessons on how focusing on Christ can eliminate fear, and that we should worship Him for his wondrous acts on our behalf, some other elements of this famous event hit me this morning as I was pondering this same passage during my devotions.

1. Jesus "made" the disciples get into the boat.  It's as if He wanted to get rid of them for a while, like parents telling their children to go play outside.  Why?
2. Why?  So He could fellowship with His Father.  He went up on the mountain to talk with God, with Whom He shares a uniquely holy relationship as both God's Son, yet a fellow member of the Trinity.
3. Christ stayed on the mountain with God for quite a while, likely enjoying their utterly profound interpersonal bonds; both paternal and spiritual.
4. Meanwhile, what were His disciples doing?  They were out in a boat on the Sea of Galilee, likely chatting amongst themselves about any number of things, from the miracles they had just witnessed, to Christ's shunting them off into the boat so He could be alone, to the wind that was battering their craft with increasing strength.

The contrast is stunning, isn't it?  Christ, secluded on a mountaintop, in communion with the God of the universe, Who was also His real father.  On the other hand, there are His bumbling disciples, on a lake, in a boat, struggling to maintain course.

Christ Chooses To Be With Us Despite Ourselves

I don't know about you, but I'm not on the mountaintop with Christ and His Father.  I'm in the boat, anxious, along with His other disciples.  I'm trying to figure out from which direction the wind is coming, and fretting about being blown off-course.

Maybe you're up on the mountaintop with Christ, in a sublime fellowship with God that sets everything else around you into a confident perspective.  Enjoy it, because even Christ's time up there didn't last for long.

Eventually, Christ comes to His disciples in the boat, tossed about by the waves.  He walks on water, both literally, and perhaps even figuratively, since He'd just left the immediate presence of His Father, our God.  What a dose of reality that must have been for Jesus, having to leave the mountaintop - again, both literally and figuratively - and resume His association with such a rag-tag band of mortal followers.

No titans of industry, no heads of state, no engineering geniuses, no entertaining celebrities.  Christ's disciples were ordinary, politically disenfranchised, and of modest economic means.  It seems Peter was the only one to provide the entertainment, only whenever he did, it was entirely unintentional.

And probably only really funny to us, reading the Bible's accounts of his bumblings with the benefit of millennia of hindsight.

Speaking of entertainment, isn't it almost laughable for the disciples to initially wonder if the apparition they see on the water is a ghost?  Had the wind and choppy water made them that afraid?  They'd only been deprived of Christ's physical presence for perhaps a matter of hours, and after some pretty spectacular miracles, too.  It was so easy for them to forget that He had just fed thousands of people with five loaves and two fishes.  Why wouldn't he be able to walk on water?  The psalmists say that seas obey Him, right?  Yet short memories of Christ's power is so very typical of not just them, but us, too.

Isn't it?

Having Christ call out to reassure them, and having the mental picture of Peter - of course, it would be Peter - demand that Christ allow him to walk on water, too, can almost be anti-climactic.  So often, we mortals assume the climax of this story is Peter's walking on water.  But perhaps the climax actually is Christ getting in the boat with His followers.

Did He have to?  How much of His earthly ministry depended on the disciples?  None of it, right?  Christ could have accomplished His work on Earth in any number of ways that wouldn't have required what must have been an arduous, demanding, oftentimes thankless job of teaching - and re-teaching - an ad-hoc group of tax collectors and fishermen.  He'd just come from fellowshipping with His own father, and was likely forcefully reminded of what He was missing, working on Earth, instead of being with God in Heaven's glories.

Leaving Glory

Instead, He was climbing - literally and figuratively - back into that wooden boat, with that same group of forgetful, feeble, selfish, confused guys who mostly thought they were working for a new political kingdom for Israel.  It's like His incarnation all over again.

Christ got back in the boat with us.  But not to be "one of the guys."  He didn't get back in the boat to hone His street cred as a savior-type dude.  He got back in the boat, because as our Savior, He exudes love, and His disciples could do nothing else but immediately worship Him.

They didn't slap Him on the back and say, "boy, that was a cool trick!  How did You do that?"

They were transfixed in awe and wonder, and likely, a good deal of shame at their obvious lack of faith and incredibly short memories.

And they were also undoubtedly greatly relieved and happy that He was back with them.  Joyful, even.

Christ's love for them honored God, and modeled for both them then, and us today, one of the many reasons we have to worship Him.

He left God's glory and got in the boat with us.
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Can Karma Be All About Looks?

I just saw my first Fisker.

A Fisker Karma.  Silver.  With a black glass roof lined with metallic circuitry.

This Karma Ain't No Chameleon

Fisker Karma is a brand-new hybrid luxury sedan that can get up to 52 mpg, despite its sprawling dimensions.  I saw my first Fisker today while gazing out a third-floor window in none other than Arlington, Texas, a city better known for sports and chain restaurants than exotic automobiles.

Who knows - the driver may have been a sports celebrity.  He was a fairly short, muscular white guy with a thick head of black hair.  I watched as he pulled into a bank's narrow parking lot, and found his Fisker was too wide to fit between a poorly-parked black pickup truck and an idling armored truck.  The driver waited for a while, and then got out of his car (that's how I know how tall he was), motioning for the driver of the armored truck to move up just a few feet.  But the driver in his burly rig just stared at him.

Was that karma, maybe?

Finally, the Fisker guy got back into his swanky ride, backed away, and drove off.  Since I was up high, I could see him soon coming around the back way into the bank's drive-through area.

Maybe he had to make a deposit to cover his first month's payment.

We have a hazy sky here in north Texas this afternoon, but still plenty of sun to keep the solar cells built into the Fisker's roof drinking up the energy rays.  That's why, from above, the car's roof looks like a sleek circuit board hovering over the passenger compartment.

Developed for around $1 billion by a team of automotive and ecological engineers headed by Danish designer Henrik Fisker, the Karma represents the leading edge of a brave new world of ultra-luxury low-emissions vehicles.  At least, if you view hybrids and all-electric cars apart from the coal and gas-powered factories powering the massive electric plants essential for this new automotive technology.  We may all be fooling ourselves that "green" cars are really helping to save our planet, considering that somewhere along the way, fossil fuels still play a huge role in how they operate.  But if the ride into our environmental fantasy is going to be in cars like the Fisker, we'll at least be stylin' our way around the proverbial bush.

Immediately, looking out the window from my perch, I could tell this was a different car, even before I could recall it's name.  Fisker is brand-new to the automotive world, completely separate from the Big Three and any foreign legacy car makers, except for its GM-produced engines that power each car's generator.  Its fluid, sexy styling invokes flashbacks to the Jaguars of old, and comparisons to today's Aston Martin Rapide - at twice the price - or maybe a late-model Maserati Quattroporte.  In any event, these are all relatively rare cars, even in the exotic environs of haughty north Dallas, where elite nameplates seem to breed in valet parking lots.

Earlier today, I was chided by a reader of an essay of mine about Mitt Romney and his $250 million fortune.  My reader thought I sounded jealous of Romney's wealth, which seems to be the typical reaction these days from conservatives who think pointing out millions of dollars in assets is akin to class warfare.

Chill, people!  Who's the one who preaches on this blog that it's the love of money that's the root of evil, not money itself?  Like many things, money is relative, and I only wish I had a relative with lots of it!  Okay, bad jokes aside, as long as anybody with money - whether it be somebody working a minimum-wage job or somebody with Warren Buffett wealth - tithes the portion of that money God directs them to, how they spend what's left over is more a matter of being responsible to God than being restricted by Him.

And "being responsible" is laden with cultural variables.

In the United States, spending $25,000 for an automobile is considered relatively normal and prudent, and hardly extravagant.  But in India or Bangladesh, spending that amount of money would be seen as absurd by most of the populace that barely earns that amount in their entire lifetime.  Meanwhile, spending $100,000 on a car like the Fisker is low-balling it, at least in the orbits of New York City's hedge fund titans, or the technology wonks out in Silicon Valley.

What Effect is This Cause Having?

Maybe it's because I've always had a weakness for cars, but if somebody can honestly afford to buy something like the Fisker, I say "congratulations, and enjoy it!"  Having said that, if I personally had the money to buy one, I'm not sure I would.  But not directly because of the cost.  Being the cynic I tend to be, I'd be anxious about some crazy uninsured driver hitting it.  And speaking of valet parking, I don't even let valet employees park my humble Honda Accord anymore, after one of them scuffed the bumper of my last Honda in the back lot of a Dallas restaurant.

It's also valid to point out that cars like the Fisker have a history of introducing new features and engineering to the broader, mass-consumption market.  I'm not crazy about professional car racing, but I can't deny that many of the safety standards and equipment we drivers and passengers enjoy today have come from NASCAR and other real-world racing venues.  Who knows yet the amount of technology Fisker and other new hybrid car manufacturers are pioneering that could make ordinary cars more environmentally-friendly in the future?  Indeed, a lot is riding on cars like Fisker's in more ways that one.  The fight over hybrid technology is so fierce these days, one of Fisker's competitors, Tesla, alleged in a lawsuit that Fisker had stolen some of its secrets.

As new as this technology may be, however, at least one part of the Fisker story seems to smell of the same old bad politics that have corrupted other environmental projects.  Fisker won half a billion dollars in guaranteed loans from our federal government, like the now-defunct Solyndra did.  Fisker also received $193 million in taxpayer-funded incentives to provide "green" jobs, even though the Obama administration knew Fisker is building these Karmas in Finland, of all places.  A mothballed GM plant Fisker purchased at a government fire sale will ostensibly be used for future cars in Fisker's pipeline.

That is, if Fisker can hold out that long.  Within weeks of its debut last fall, Fisker had to issue a recall, and has issued two more since then.  At least one fire has been definitively linked with their vehicles, and another fire may have been.  Such numbers wouldn't mean much for a mass-market vehicle, but Fisker has only sold a few thousand of their Karmas so far.

Some people with $100,000 to spend on a vehicle might let the car's incredible looks overrule a more pedestrian logic, and indulge themselves with one.  However, if you've earned that money yourself, you're probably also smart enough to consider your other, more time-tested options in this price class.

I spotted that gorgeous Fisker right away out of a parking lot full of cars, and a four-lane avenue teeming with traffic.

Maybe that kind of attention is still worth it to the guy who couldn't even get an armored truck to move a few feet out of his way.
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