On insulting one's intelligence and the nuisance of small gods

For all you science geeks, here are a couple articles you might find interesting from two completely different perspectives: are we living in a computer simulation (think 'The Matrix') and even more startling, intelligent design just got a peer reviewed study.

The modern concept that 'science must only tell us what we want to hear' drives me batty, that is like asking a scale to only display the weight you want to see.  Science should be an objective tool, not a subjective weapon.  Many published studies can't be replicated and some are just made up to enrich the publisher while anything that disagrees with our modern mores is enough to blackball your career, whether it challenges evolution, modern social constructs, or our determination that the sky is truly falling and only mass extinction of the human race can stop it.  How often do we hear angry pseudo-scientists claiming that they are being treated like Galileo when they are the ones proclaiming that the sun revolves around the earth and that everyone else had better agree with them or else?  It is the job of science to support or disprove natural phenomena, it is not meant to viewed through a political lens, it never proves anything, and it shouldn't be used to measure things in the abstract: love, faith, ethics, philosophy, the supernatural, meaning, purpose...when it does, which seems to be the case in this strange modern era, it is become a religion, a faith in its own right, with its own dogmas and ethical code and mythology, which is exactly how 'the experts' act, no wonder they are far more ready to believe everything is a computer simulation rather than admit their science is as mythic as they accuse Christianity of being.  They are the modern variant of the pharisees that Jesus confronted in His own day, 'you shut the kingdom of heaven in people’s faces. For you neither enter yourselves nor allow those who would enter to go in' (Matthew 23:13).

The idea seems to be 'believe anything but God,' and I've seen some very curious examples in a variety of disciplines and situations, including this one!  The simplest, the most obvious explanation is defied in preference to some other complicated, ridiculous supposition with all the confidence of the serpent in the Garden proclaiming, 'ye can be gods!'  'Did God really say?' was also his postulation and we still ask it today.  I love the people trying to wrap our modern sexual mores in a shabby cloak of Christianity and proclaim the resulting monstrosity as the 'true church, as Jesus intended,' minding me much of the donkey wrapped up in a lion's skin and called 'Aslan' in 'The Last Battle.'  And no one can understand why the liberal, modern denominations are stagnating?  Why play pretend with the Gospel when you get neither the benefits of true religion or the pleasures of its many secular alternatives?  In Revelation we are told to be either hot or cold, not lukewarm, which is just insulting to oneself and God, either choose for or against, don't rewrite the tale to suit your own agenda.  Paul warned that 'we of all men are most miserable if Christ be not raised,' meaning that if Jesus did what He said He did, there is some point in living as a Christian ought, but if he didn't, what's the point?  All the pain and none of the joy, all the trouble and none of the peace?  It makes as much sense as trying to twist PETA's views to support the beef industry!

Somehow both science and the liberal 'christian' faith are both telling us exactly the same thing: whatever the liberal left elitists think is the truth, always has been, always will be and anyone who thinks different is stupid, uncivilized, and inhuman.  That's why you need to consume material from non-social media and network news and mainstream papers, be it your grandfather's recollections of the second world war or a classic book or taking your dog for a hike in some beautiful place sans your phone or singing a wonderful song or laughing with friends or watching a good movie or cooking a good meal or whatever, just get away from the incessant, remorseless 'words, words, words,' of those that would have you react without thought, reply without knowing, think without understanding, shut out the noise, take a peek at something that is not 'safe, appropriate, socially acceptable, publicly approved, popular.'  Find out for yourself, silence the nattering heads, discover what you believe and why, instead of merely giving in from sheer exhaustion to the unending chatter of the socially acceptable gospel, just another blurry eyed, vacant minded sheep in a dull and boundless flock.  The real lion isn't tame or safe, but He's good, but alas that we prefer a preposterous little donkey in His stead!  Take a good, hard look at your god, whatever or whomever it be, is it merely an ass in a lion's skin, ridiculous, petty, and powerless, or can He make the mountains smoke and tremble, cause realities to crumble with a thought or produce whole worlds out of nothingness?  What did God say and why is the serpent so determined that we never figure it out?  That is truly the answer to 'life the universe and everything,' the number 42 not withstanding!

What it means to be a pelican of the wilderness

 Here's a great article on unlocking some of the hidden metaphors, references, and analogies sprinkled throughout classic literature and even our common parlance, it's like a great big riddle or mystery to solve, to deepen the meaning, to truly understand what the author is trying to convey (rather than the horrendous idea that the author is only saying what we want them to say).  I remember reading one of the 'Anne of Green Gables' books and came across a paragraph wherein a child asked her about 'the pelican of the wilderness' and I was delighted, I wonder how many thoroughly modern people could link that reference up with the King James version of the book of Job?  Don't become irrelevant and literally illiterate, go brush up on your anachronistic metaphors asap!  

On conflation and cats of one color!

 I'm terrible with names, unless it's a latin binomial, if your moniker consists of a species and a genus, we're good (in all save fish)!  Why is it I can remember the scientific name of a burrowing rodent or a bacteria often associated with bovine foot pathologies but can't remember my fellow men?  Maybe there is a sort of poetry in Eptesicus fuscus or Emydoideia blandingii which is lacking in John Smith or Jessica Doe?  Maybe it is the meaning hidden in the latin pseudonyms, Felis concolor, that cat of one color, while names of mere mortal choosing seem rather arbitrary.  Maybe it is the relationship between them and no two the same, though the Amos Yoders in the plat book in Amish country must be distinguished by their middle initial, none of the Genus Felis have that problem, concolor and domesticus are each their own animal but still cousins.  Or maybe it is all those years of forced memorization in the art and lingo of the biological sciences that it has become a second language?  Whatever it is, it has rendered me unappreciative for several years as to the existence and works of one Dorothy Sayers, yet another dead English author, whom I was strangely conflating with Flannery O'Connor (yes, an American with an Irish appellation, I don't know why I confused the two!).

I have read a few of O'Connor's short stories, but came away rather chilled by the experience, chilled, not cold mind you.  She is an excellent writer, a keen observer of human behavior and nature and able to translate that into excellent literature, but for me personally, too much delving into the darker side of human life, from which I am still trying to emerge like the mythic legged fish from the primordial ooze of non-being (who says there isn't poetry in atheism, but then poetry cannot exist without myth to give it metaphor and thus form).  Having consumed my tithe of O'Connor, I contented myself therewith and moved on, little realizing that I was closing the proverbial door on Dorothy Sayers as well, whom I had heard of certainly, but knew little more than she was an authoress of some fame, which is probably where the conflation arose, for that could be the inane definition of O'Connor as well!

I ran across an article a while ago about a book containing excerpts from the correspondence between Sayers and C.S.Lewis and was forced to reconsider my assumptions, since Lewis is a favorite author, perhaps this mysterious woman he was so happy to correspond with to such an extent that it warranted a book on the subject might be worth a second look, whereat I discovered my lunacy and delved immediately into the various works of Sayers, while wondering who it was I had confused her with (finally discovering O'Conner and putting my vacuous mind at ease).  I've read through the Peter Wimsey detective novels, which are pretty good, I still prefer Father Brown but Sayer's detective is much preferred to the legendary Sherlock, but far better is her 'Mind of the Maker,' which may just be my own authorial prejudices, but it is a book I'd rate as high as Lewis's Mere Christianity and Chesterton's Orthodoxy and Everlasting Man in being very readable, enjoyable, profound, understandable, and a great exploration of theology in a non-drowsy formula.

In the 'Mind of the Maker,' Sayers explores the nature of the Trinity by comparing it to the creative process involved in a literary work, particularly a stage play, but applying it more generally to prose, poetry, and any other creative process, even political speeches, sermons, and daily work.  As an author, I think her insight is brilliant and may help many a creative person in their endeavors to improve their art.  As a Christian, I believe her ideas are profound and help to shine light into a subject that is often beyond the ability of mere words to explain.  If you've ever found the idea of Christ attractive but have been bored or intimidated out of delving deeper, this just might be the place to start (or one of those other books mentioned above, which are wonderful for beginners and lifelong saints alike).  Don't let conflation or any other silliness prevent you from indulging your philosophical curiosity or enjoying a rare literary treat a moment longer!