I See Skies of Blue

Nuthin' but bloooo sky...

That's what I see when I look straight up into the heavens today.

And I like it!

Don't you, too?  Sparkling and clear blue sky.  Kinda darker, the deeper into space you look, with a soft whitish tint as your gaze travels to just about the treeline.  The kind of blue that you really can't photograph unless you have an expensive camera, otherwise everything kinda seems faded.

Here in Texas, in August, blue skies like today's are rare, even though we have plenty of sunny days.  Smog tends to add a brownish-purple tinge to the sky on cloudless days, as the sun scorches the chemicals in our air.  But in the springtime, when breezes are more reliable, and the air hasn't yet been cooked by the summer sun, the blue is as blue as blue skies should be.

Bluer than the signature powder-blue gift boxes at Tiffany's.  But not the cold blue of ordinary sunny days during the winter.

In a way, if you think about it, blue skies provide an indisputable testament to the validity of Creation science.  How so?  Well, consider how the pollutants we humans have introduced to our atmosphere over the past century or so.  Pollutants created from the mixing and emissions of chemicals which had never before taken place on our planet in such quantities and concentrations until the 1900's.

How would an evolutionist explain the fact that the chemical make-up of the atmosphere was prepared for the introduction of these new "man-made" chemicals?  Why didn't the atmosphere simply explode or ignite when these new chemical compositions reached the stratosphere?  How did evolution prepare the gasses - that previously existed uninterrupted up there for so long - for such a relatively new phenomenon as non-organic compounds invading such a previously untested environment?

Was it luck that our atmosphere didn't react in violent convulsions from the unanticipated intrusion of new chemicals into the air?  I understand that people who believe evolutionary theory say that some evolution cycles are faster than others, but with all of the pollution we've introduced into the atmosphere, shouldn't we be seeing some sort of evolutionary repercussions?

Of course, evolutionists say we are:  the melting ice caps, the rising sea levels, the loss of biodiversity.  That's evolution's way of reacting to man's pollution of our air, they claim.

And unlike many evangelicals, I don't doubt that man-made pollution is bad for the environment.  I wonder how many conservatives today would want to live in the Cleveland of the 1960's, when the Cuyahoga River caught fire from all of the chemicals being dumped into it.  How many Republicans in California get sick from all the smog - smog that used to blanket cities across the United States until pollution controls were enacted to help clean the air?

Pollution and its effects are indisputable, and all of our lives are better for efforts to reduce it.  And it's impossible to prove that all of the chemicals we've pumped into the air are not causing some impact on any possible changes to our climate.  But it's also impossible to prove the extent of that effect.  After all, the Earth has been colder before, and it's been warmer.  What about the Ice Age?  Something heated up, otherwise we'd still be living in the Ice Age, right?  So while pollution needs to be fought against, we can't blame it entirely for all of the ills some hard-line environmentalists want to.

Does that mean that we Americans need to adopt even more-stringent rules to further eliminate pollution?  Well, that depends, doesn't it, on what our fellow planetary citizens do to help with our air quality.  After all, we're not the globe's only polluters, and just as the rest of the world consumes our air, we also consume theirs.  So how are the subsistence farmers who burn piles of methane-releasing dung in Africa going to reduce their emissions?  How are the masses of impoverished people around the world who heat and cook by burning unregulated oil going to reduce their emissions?  How are all of the countries who burn coal while shunning modern air-scrubbing smokestack technology going to reduce their emissions?

Pollution isn't only an American problem, just as global warming may be more cyclical than some scientists want to admit.

Global warming still doesn't answer my original question, either.  Sure, we may be seeing some severe biological reactions to pollution now, but in the grand scheme of things, they're hardly cataclysmic.  Human lifespans around the world continue to increase - we're not dying off in droves from air-borne pollution.  Plenty of other predatory practices are contributing to the loss of biodiversity, not just pollution.  And we're still able to breathe the same air that existed on this planet before Columbus discovered the New World.

Yes, as good stewards of God's creation, we need to clean it up a bit more.  "Rule and subdue" doesn't mean "plunder and destroy."  Our forefathers kinda went overboard on the pollution thing back during the Industrial Revolution, and even today, our major chemical companies have only moved the worst of their business practices to impotent Majority World countries where people don't realize they're being exposed to carcinogens that North Americans wouldn't dare breathe.  Those people don't necessarily see the same blue sky I'm enjoying today.

And when I don't see this blue sky in August here in Texas, and I know it's because of pollution, I have greater sympathy for those folks in places like China, Bangladesh, India, and even parts of Russia where environmental regulations are mired in sub-human standards.

Still, the proof I see in skies like today's here in Texas give me hope, because not only is my heavenly home somewhere up beyond the farthest reaches of the space crowning this air, but this air helps prove that my God truly is great.  He created this air knowing that people like me would take it for granted and pollute it. And He designed it to accommodate just enough pollution to serve as a warning as to how important clean air is to our well-being.

And in the words of Louis Armstrong, "I think to myself, what a wonderful world!"
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Don't Let Your Plates Speak for You

Should state license plates promote a particular religion?

Of course not.

I've never been a huge proponent of "vanity plates," the customized license plates that can feature anything from sports teams to popular slogans to tourist destinations.

Not that license places need to be plain with only numbers and letters on them.  But their primary function is to identify a vehicle as having the authority to be on publicly-funded roadways.  And vanity plates are simply a license for trouble.

How so?  For example, consider the process of deciding what merits a vanity plate.  What teams get included or excluded?  What tourist destinations, slogans, and other considerations get the green light or red light?  Why?  Because who says?

Here in Texas, you can purchase separate vanity plates for your Ford car or truck.  You can get some for your favorite power company or restaurant.  Breast cancer, Dr. Pepper, nurses, Realtors, wind farms - they all have special plates.

And now we've come to what I knew would happen eventually:  religion on license places.  For a while, Texas has allowed the slogan "In God We Trust" on vanity plates featuring an Americana motif, and certainly, as slogans go, I don't have a problem with the wording.  But it was only a matter of time before somebody took things a step further.

Which they've now done.

The Texas Department of Motor Vehicles has begun authorizing black and white plates featuring a rendition of three crosses and the phrase, "One State Under God."  And right on cue, protests have arisen over the blurring of the line between separation of church and state.

I wonder if the same people who rush to their DMV office to purchase these new "One State Under God" plates would be so eager to let Muslims affix an Islamic saying onto our license plates.  Would Satanists be able to promote their faith?  How about atheists?  After all, atheism is a faith.

Every vanity plate carries a surcharge which varies based on the extent to which its customized.  Here in Texas, different vanity plates celebrating various social causes are sold with a portion of their proceeds directed to a signature non-profit group promoting that particular social cause.  And no, I can't argue with that.

Yet our new "One State Under God" plates will benefit a charity called "The Glory Gang" that works with at-risk kids in the sparsely-populated East Texas town of Nacogdoches.  How this particular charity got singled out to benefit from the proceeds of these plates, when a plethora of Christian non-profits exist in Texas, isn't clear.

Of course, Glory Gang sees the plates as a win-win.

“We believe the new plate will appeal to a lot of Texans who believe as we do-- who will like knowing that sharing a Christian message from their cars will also help kids in need,” said Matt Rocco, a Glory Gang board member.

Even if you think I'm wrong, and that religious-themed license plates are a good idea, you still have to admit that the slogan chosen for this inaugural plate doesn't make much sense.  "One State Under God?"

Of course, Texas is one state.  But "One State Under God" ostensibly mimics the national slogan, "One Nation Under God," which envisions a collection of states united in a common solidarity under the lordship of God.

"One Nation Under God," therefore, makes sense.  "One State Under God" is a weak copy which trivializes not only the original slogan from which it's trying to borrow credibility, but also the concept of Christian-themed license plates in general.

I'd have thought that something like "God Bless Texas" - a popular slogan that has become a thoroughly Texan anthem with decidedly innocuous tones - would be more appropriate than the poorly-phrased "One State Under God."

But then, we wouldn't need to be having this discussion if our license plates simply stayed out of religion altogether.  It's not that we don't have the freedom to broadcast our faith from our car bumpers.  But our faith should be more interactive when it comes to how we drive.  After all, how many times have you been blasted by a speeding vehicle blowing past you bearing a Christian bumper sticker on its rear?

Let other drivers know you're a Christian by your love behind the wheel.  Not some slogan on your license plate.
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Dog Day Saturday

At first glance, it looked like a scraggly pile of leaves.

But when it got up, you could see that it had four legs.

Underneath a neighbor's pickup truck parked across the street, a mangy mutt of a dog appeared this past Saturday.  It could stand up underneath the full-sized Chevy, which tells you how tall it was.  And it wasn't much longer, either.  It's greyish-brown hair was matted and clumped, looking like cornrows in places.  Hair completely covered its eyes and spread out from each of its paws.  Other than hair, all that could be seen was a cute little black button nose.  And every now and then, a little pink mouth with perfectly-aligned itty-bitty white teeth.

It appeared as though this dog's previous owners had put braces on those teeth in its earlier life, they were so straight.  In that earlier life, it was probably well-groomed, well-fed, and even well-trained.  It certainly wasn't a wild dog who'd lived for years - or even many months - on the streets.  It didn't snap, or bark much at all.  It didn't dislike humans, but it was wary.  Eventually, with some coaxing, it decided to inch itself to the side of the pickup, closer to us humans, yet still well-protected by the underbelly of the Chevy.

A neighbor up the street saw it first, and came back with some dog food he purchased at a nearby convenience store, since he didn't have a dog of his own.  But this little mutt wouldn't come out from under the truck, so our neighbor tore off the side of a Styrofoam fast-food soda cup, filled it up with the dog food, and left it in the curb.

After the first neighbor went back home, I softly approached the pickup truck, talking to the dog in a hushed manner.  He wagged his mangy tail, but displayed little other interest.  I got down onto the pavement on my hands and knees, with my rear-end sticking up in the air, trying to coax the mutt out from under the truck, but he just moved from one spot to the other, wagging his tail in a decidedly noncommittal way.

Another neighbor drove by, saw the situation, and went home to get some doggie treats she had on-hand for her own two pets.  We made a little smorgasbord of the food on the pavement near the wayward stray, and after we moved back, he came out and gobbled up some of the pieces.

Yet another neighbor drove by, got out of her silver Cadillac, got down on her hands and knees, and tried to coax the mutt from underneath the pickup.

No success.  Although he seemed charmed by all of the attention he'd suddenly acquired, he didn't really trust any of us.

What do to?  Another neighbor drove by and suggested a no-kill shelter she knew of - about 30 miles away.  We couldn't even get the dog out from under the truck, let alone pick him up.  And did any of us have room in our Saturday to drive a couple of hours to take a stray dog to anyplace but the city pound, where they only keep strays for three days?

I decided that I could, but I needed more time to establish some sort of rapport with this little doggie.  So after talking to him some more, I went inside to try again later.  Only by then, our newest neighbor had moved on - to another, smaller pickup truck parked in our next-door-neighbor's driveway.  They were away on vacation, but I knew if they came home a day early and their two small children found a lost dog at their house, their parents would have a horrible time trying to convince them that it wasn't Providence giving them a new pet!

So I went next-door, and crouched beside their gold-colored Ford pick-up.  I talked to the dog, patting the concrete driveway with my hand, and generally trying to play dog whisperer to the shaggy-haired mutt.  At least the day was fairly cool and we had a bit of a breeze, so I wasn't perspiring like I would have done had this taken place during one of our notorious Texas summers.  But still, the dog seemed to enjoy the attention, but that was about it.

After a while, after I'd gone back inside, I noticed the neighbor up the street who'd gone out to purchase dog food had returned.  He was sitting on the curb, next to the white Chevy, talking to the dog, which had left the Ford and returned to the truck parked in the street.  "Good," I thought to myself.  "Maybe he'll be able to take care of the dog!"  I didn't want to have to take the stray myself to a shelter - no-kill or not.  But I knew we couldn't keep him.

After another hour or so, I looked again, and there was no scraggly-looking clump underneath the Chevy.  Had our neighbor taken him home?  Nope, I looked next-door, and the stray had simply returned to our next-door-neighbor's Ford.  So I went over again to talk to him, and to my surprise, it didn't take long for the little doggie to slowly work his way from underneath the truck into my reach.  So I stretched over and scratched his little head.

And he liked it!

I scratched behind his ear, under his chin, and across his back.  My hand turned brown and greasy from stroking such dirty hair.  But when I moved closer, the dog ducked back underneath the truck.

I'd done some research online and found a no-kill shelter in Fort Worth, which was closer to us, but they closed at 5pm on Saturdays, and it was 4:30 now.  And I still couldn't get to the dog to pick him up.  I started to walk away, and the dog came back from underneath the truck, and he started to follow me down the neighbor's driveway!

Was this my chance?  I turned around and bent down to scratch behind his ears again, and the dog came right up to my legs.  As I had been petting him, I'd noticed that fleas were running all over his skin.  The whole time he had been in our neighborhood, and all of us neighbors had been talking to him, he would suddenly attack his backside with his back feet in a scratching fit - obviously because of the fleas.  So as much as I wanted to help the little mutt, I didn't want to get covered in fleas myself.  So I didn't really want to pick him up.  But if I could get him to follow me to our house and into my car, then I could just spray the car's interior afterwards.

So I walked slowly across our lawn, and the little dog followed me.  We kept going, and he was following me, right up until the point where he seemed to start reading my mind as I mentally strategized about how I'd deal with his fleas and get him to the shelter, as time was running out.

Suddenly, he turned around and trotted back next door, and scooted himself underneath our neighbor's truck.

I went inside, and called the shelter to see if they could stay open a little while longer.  But they'd closed early for the day.

After dinner, I went back next door, and the dog came out from under the truck and let me pet him again and scratch behind his ears.  I killed a couple of fleas that made their way onto my arm and shirt, but I was really feeling sorry for the little fella.  I walked back into our yard, and the mutt followed me, and I thought maybe if I could get him into our fenced backyard for the evening, at least we could keep a better eye on him, and take him to the shelter after church Sunday morning.

About that time, yet another neighbor was walking her dog down our street, walking towards me and the stray.

"Oh, good!" she exclaimed.  "You got him to come out from underneath the truck!"

"Yes, but I don't know what to do with him right now," I replied.

"Well, Paul, our neighbor, wants to keep him."  I figured out that Paul was the guy who'd come down with the dog food earlier in the day, and who'd sat on the curb for a long while talking to the dog under the truck.

Wow - that was good news!  I had hoped that neighbor - who I'd never met before - would provide a good resolution for our problem, and he'd come through!  So we walked with the mutt - he was following me around quite obediently now - up the street to Paul's house.

And Paul was walking down the street - with even more dog food that he'd mixed with some hamburger!  When he saw us coming towards him with the stray, he broke out into a broad smile.

Turns out, he's an older single guy with some health issues who had a dog like this mutt back when he was much younger.  He was ready to deal with the fleas and the matted hair, and had a spacious, fenced backyard to keep him.  So we escorted the newly-christened "J.J." into the backyard, where he promptly did his business next to Paul's in-ground swimming pool!  It was as if he knew this was his new home!

Paul didn't care.  He was deeply pleased.  He was going to give J.J. a thorough bath and make an appointment with a dog groomer.  "I guess you'll see me more often now," he joked, since he'd realized he'd have to take J.J. out for daily constitutionals.

I walked back down the street to my home, leaving J.J. at his new one.  It was like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.  Everything had worked out!  How nice that all of us neighbors were able to share a common concern, and how especially nice that one of us was in a position to take a stray right off the street, despite all of his fleas and however many other problems he might have.

It reminded me that some stories can still have happy endings.  And that redemption isn't as impossible as we often consider it to be.

Bow. Wow!
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You Are Second

You've seen the billboards.

And the commercials, and the t-shirts, and the online advertising.

It claims "I am Second."  Supposedly a clever religious marketing slogan to indicate that God is first in purpose and priority, and since I believe that, I'm a Christian.  It's cool, hip, and minimalist, so nobody can really get offended.  And it fits so well with North America's pop theology.

And yes, God is first.  No doubt about it.

But are we really second?  Think about it.

Remember this encounter in the Gospels?

One of the teachers of the law came and heard them debating. Noticing that Jesus had given them a good answer, he asked him, "Of all the commandments, which is the most important?"

"The most important one," answered Jesus, "is this: 'Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one.  Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.'  The second is this: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no commandment greater than these."  (Mark 12:28-31)

Or how about the apostle Paul's admonishment from Philippians 2:3:  Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves.

God, others, ourselves.  Isn't that the real order?

Ironically, the "I am Second" campaign reflects the humanistic reality that I'm assuming it's trying to challenge.  We do consider ourselves more important that others, don't we?  Many Americans will admit to some Higher Power being in charge of things, even as they're not eager to cede second place to anybody else.  But those of us who believe that the God of the Bible is first must also believe in the corollary to that doctrine:  God is first.  You are second.  I am further on down the list.

One of the greatest struggles of my life involves believing this and acting on it.  Acknowledging that your needs should come before my own has become profoundly heretical in the American mindset.  We hardly show affinity for each other, let alone affection and - gasp! - love.  Not romantic love, of course, but brotherly love.  The willingness to defer.  The eagerness to help.  The loathing of repayment - with interest.

And guess what - I am not second.  You are.  Even if you selfishly agree with me that you're second.

But don't assume that for too long.  Otherwise I'll have to start praying for your salvation.  Because believing "I am second" is apparently, according to the Bible, as sinful as believing you're first.

Who's on second?  Narcissism tells us what we want to believe.  God's Word tells us the truth.

So, yes, I believe you are second.  Even though sometimes I may not act like I believe it.  So when that happens, please forgive me.  Because technically, to you, I'm second.

We're taught that life isn't supposed to work this way - with others being more important than ourselves.  But things aren't really working out being motivated by our personal selfishness, are they?  Maybe "You Are Second" would be one of those faith things we usually defer to those really spiritual moments in our lives that we don't consider pragmatic for everyday living

So, am I off the hook?  Do I not really have to take being selfless seriously?

Why don't you tell me?

After all, you are second.

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Adults Shouldn't Model Childish Behavior

"How silly," I thought while reading the article.

"Like a bunch of children."

In an account of the endemic corruption crippling recovery efforts in Afghanistan, the New York Times this week gave a bleak update on the near-collapse of Kabul Bank by untouchables in that country's elite.  It was part of the scenario about how the American military's pull-out from that war-torn country has been absurdly complicated by the graft which chokes the Afghan government.

This scenario has gotten choked by stories of President Harmid Karzai pretending not to know that his top officials are plundering the nation's few banks.  Stories about how Karzai's government manipulates American military officers, stalling for time as politicians back home keep throwing our tax dollars into the black hole that is our reconstruction efforts.  About how bank officials, supposedly having been found guilty of bank fraud, don't even go back to prison after working their day jobs... jobs that allegedly have put them in prime positions of committing fraud in the first place.  About how just about everybody over there blames us for this mess, apparently because the United States had some wild expectation that law and order would be the best way for Afghanistan to leapfrog into the Twentieth Century.

Yes, that would still make Afghanistan a backwards country, but at least it would be a step in the right direction.

Instead, the Afghan people - from its president on down - appear intent on bickering, fighting, and defrauding themselves back to the Stone Age.

And I think to myself, "how silly."  It's as if they're content to fade back into the world's backyard sandbox, with thugs bullying their way around the dirt.

Meanwhile, half-way around the world, in a village near Syracuse, New York, things aren't that much different.  A widowed mother has found herself under the microscope for driving her teenaged daughter to the parking lot of a Catholic church for a pre-arranged fight with another girl from high school.  The widow brought along her other daughter, a 12-year-old, to videotape the fight.

Supposedly, this was the appropriate resolution for incidents of bullying to which the widow's teenaged daughter had allegedly been subjected by the other teenager.  Claiming to have become frustrated that the school district wasn't doing anything to intervene in the bullying, the widow decided that a supervised fight - behind, ironically, the sanctuary of Holy Family Church - could help resolve things.

As you might imagine, it hasn't.

A video - the other girl also had her boyfriend videotape the fight - went viral around the high school this week.  The town's police department obtained a copy.  And today, the widow was in court, charged with endangering the welfare of a child. 

Back when I was in junior high school, I was the victim of a bully in gym class who grabbed flesh on my arm and twisted it so hard and so long that it swelled profusely and turned black and blue.  My parents met with school officials and the coach who taught our class, and while I don't ever remember receiving an apology, I did learn that my bully came from a pretty messed-up home, so I actually ended up feeling sorry for him.

Perhaps the fact that this widow's husband had passed away relatively recently created a vacuum in the family that left their eldest daughter particularly vulnerable to bad behavior by others.  Perhaps the loss of what could have been the authority figure in their home left the widow a bit bereft regarding appropriate conflict resolution tactics.

School officials and the police differ with the widow regarding the extent to which they knew about the bullying which provoked this churchyard fight.  But even as a victim of school bullying myself, I'm not convinced that schools - in this day and age of lawsuit-happy parents - should shoulder the entire responsibility for addressing bullying situations, particularly when they don't occur on-campus.

Still, the fact that this widow considered violence (and yes, I've seen teenaged girls fight, and it gets far more violent far faster than when boys fight) an appropriate choice for resolving the conflict between these two teenagers is troubling.  Mostly because so many people agree with her.

Wouldn't the best recourse for this mother have been to arrange a conversation with the parents of the other teenaged girl to discuss the situation rationally?  Even if you don't get what you think is the best resolution, you've established some level of dialog that can either become evidence in your favor should any legal proceedings be necessary down the road, or at least prove to your child that you know violence isn't the best response to violence.  At least, not when it comes to school bullying.

Plenty of central New Yorkers responding to this story on Syracuse.com complain that people like me are the reason why America has lost its foreign relations backbone.  Even if that were true, despite our troops being stretched thin across the globe (which proves it's not), the inverse is even truer:  violence begets violence more often than not.

Just look at Afghanistan.  They have been at war for centuries.  The country is a polyglot of fiefdoms, warlords, tribal sects, and other factions.  They fight each other, and whomever is stupid enough to try and pick a fight with them.

When George W. Bush went after the Taliban after 9/11, I applauded his efforts at both rooting out one of the world's most dangerous terror organizations, and taking advantage of the momentary vacuum in power to help introduce First World ideologies and technologies for the good of the Afghan people.  But Bush's advisers swayed his attention to Iraq, we took our eyes off the ball in Afghanistan, and the Taliban came roaring back while our back was turned.  And it's been a downward spiral ever since.

What does a fight between two teenaged girls in a Catholic church's parking lot in rural New York State have to do with corrupt oligarchs in Afghanistan?

It's this:  authority figures need to know their purpose - and maintain their integrity - before trouble ever starts.  America squandered what most people considered a remarkable feat early in the last decade, before Iraq.  This mother in New York forgot that she's supposed to be teaching her children how to be responsible adults, and that only barbaric cultures skip diplomacy for violence.

I don't comment much on parenting in my blog, because I don't have kids, and telling other people how to raise theirs is not a good use of my energies.  Neither am I an expert on Afghanistan, or American foreign policy, for that matter.

Yet the factors responsible for the degradation of civilization can't be that complex for somebody as ordinary me not to understand them.  Yes, violence and corruption may appear to be the easier way out of the problems we face.

But adults supposedly put childish things away when they mature.
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