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!   

A Caution on The Classics

 Depending on the subject, the term 'the classics' can refer to just about anything, be it music of a certain era or cars of a certain make or films of a certain taste, but on a blog that sometimes flirts with literature, I'm probably referring to the great fiction books of history, though in this case I'm getting even more specific and referring to the Christian Classics, books like Pilgrim's Progress, Practicing the Presence of God, the Confessions of Saint Augustine...  A while back I ran across an article mentioning an author I had not read, and went to project Gutenberg to see if they had any of her books, and found 'A Short and Easy Method of Prayer' and 'Spiritual Torrents' by Marie Guyon.  The first is a good solid book and well worth the read, but I'm halfway through the second and having a little trouble with the whole concept of the book.  While I like her idea and metaphor, I was a little horrified at what she explained, as it seemed to me, the ideal progress of every soul towards God, but then I remembered the preface, which mentioned just this:

"Of the experience of Madame Guyon, it should be borne in mind, that though the glorious heights of communion with God to which she attained may be scaled by the feeblest of God’s chosen ones, yet it is by no means necessary that they should be reached by the same apparently arduous and protracted path along which she was led.

The “Torrents” especially needs to be regarded rather as an account of the personal experience of the author, than as the plan which God invariably, or even usually, adopts in bringing the soul into a state of union with Himself. It is true that, in order that we may “live unto righteousness,” we must be iv“dead indeed unto sin;” and that there must be a crucifixion of self before the life of Christ can be made manifest in us. It is only when we can say, “I am crucified with Christ,” that we are able to add, “Nevertheless I live, yet not I, but Christ liveth in me.” But it does not follow that this inward death must always be as lingering as in the case of Madame Guyon. She tells us herself that the reason was, that she was not wholly resigned to the Divine will, and willing to be deprived of the gifts of God, that she might enjoy the possession of the Giver. This resistance to the will of God implies suffering on the part of the creature, and chastisement on the part of God, in order that He may subdue to Himself what is not voluntarily yielded to Him.

Of the joy of a complete surrender to God, it is not necessary to speak here: thousands of God’s children are realising its blessedness for themselves, and proving that it is no hardship, but a joy unspeakable, to present themselves a living sacrifice to God, to live no longer to themselves, but to Him that died for them, and rose again.

A simple trust in a living, personal Saviour; a putting away by His grace of all that is known to be in opposition to His will; and an entire self-abandonment to Him, that His designs may be worked out in and through us; such is the simple key to the hidden sanctuary of communion."  Amen!

While I think Madame Guyon's personal spiritual journey is worth study, proposing it, as she does, as a template for most everyone else, is dangerous indeed.  To her, God is a jealous husband that will suffer no rival, especially His bride's obsession with all His gifts and blessings, which in her case had to be stricken from her ere she would turn her eyes upon the Giver and love Him for His own sake rather than for the sake of His blessings.  That is not how everyone is wired or what every soul needs for its purification and growth.  In my own case, the 'severe husband' would only alienate me from the only One who can heal my stricken soul!  I am a survivor of severe emotional abuse and neglect from the earliest days of my existence, manipulated and shamed into self-hatred and extreme loathing of anything remotely resembling my own wants, needs, and tastes, never having encountered love, kindness, or succor at the hands of my parents.  I need a loving, gentle Father, not the 'severe husband.'  My iron-willed three year old probably needs something of the sort, but any hint of harshness, severity, or gifts given solely for the purpose of taking them away immediately shuts me down, for my trembling soul still thinks I am unlovable, unworthy of the least kindness, I deserve to be punished for existing, that my needs are an unacceptable burden upon others and inherently selfish; I lay down in the dust in despair, knowing it is more than just and of all men I am most wretched and deservedly so.

But there are many other pictures of God painted in the Scriptures beyond the jealous husband who so long chased faithless Israel through all her adulterous flings.  There is the gentle shepherd seeking the lost sheep and slowly leading the pregnant and nursing ewes, the mother with her little children, the patient husband who takes again his wayward bride, the Father who sends His only Son to purchase the life and freedom of an unworthy, wretched race!  Some souls may need the stern father or husband, but that is not my failing, I will cringe under severe discipline, declare it just, shrivel and die, to rise no more.  Rather it is kindness which smites me, humbled to the dust, I would help dig my own grave so wretched do I think myself, rather He stoops and lifts my chin, gazing upon me not in abhorrence but pity, asking 'where are your accusers,' and lo, I stood amongst the stone casting hoard, the most vociferous of all in condemning myself.  But kindness, that fatal dart!  The soul none could love He has called Beloved, Bride, Daughter, Child!  Severity and deprivation would only drive me further into despair, confirming my reservation in Hell, and I would call it just, knowing there could be no reprieve for such as I, one whom her own parents could not love.  But He is kind, patient, and loving when no one on earth was or could be, how then can I resist Him?

The classics, no matter the topic, are classic for a reason, but we should not abandon our judgement, our sense, our reason, our taste, our discernment just because the 'mob of history or thought' has declared something a classic.  We can learn much and enjoy more, but we also must be cautious in what we assimilate into our own lives, particularly in the spiritual sense, for all such are the work of fallen men, and like every mere man who has ever lived, subject to all manner of faults and flaws, but even so, the pursuit of excellence in any and every field is a wonderful thing and gives dimension and color to an otherwise drab existence.  Just like everything you read on the internet isn't true, so too, even the Classics have their shortcomings, but happily time and trial have sifted them again and again, leaving, in general, a profound experience for those willing to delve into them, rather than having to sift through a mountain of chaff on our own to find a single grain of wheat.

For to buy a toilet?

 There's nothing more romantic or adventurous than buying a toilet, save perhaps trying by every means possible to preserve those already in your keeping.  I'm a professional woman, but no plumber, and if you had told me on graduation day that fifteen years later I'd be maintaining and replacing toilets on a semi-annual basis, I would have asked what you were smoking!  But that was before I lost my job and had kids and a house and a church to take care of.  As a small church pastor's wife and mom of small kids, there are a lot of things you learn out of necessity, but happily in this day and age we have YouTube, where I can learn everything from toilet repair to new surgical techniques, so when you break the porcelain on your forty year old toilet trying to replace leaky washers you can replace the whole thing instead, now if only we had a YouTube channel for character.

Lately I've discovered Maria Edgeworth, a lady who wrote a little before and around the same time as the famed Miss Austen, and I must say I find both authors quite captivating, mostly because I've yearned for a proper Austen successor for years only to find a contemporary, but her stories are as much worth reading as anything in the Austen canon.  If there was a YouTube to encourage the growth of character and the cultivation of virtue, it would be the writings of Maria Edgeworth.  I haven't read everything, and some of her shorter tales are a little preachy, but overall, and her novels especially, I have really enjoyed as both a story and as a moral lesson and an illumination of various aspects of human character and society.  I often decry the lack of morals of modern man, but reading Maria Adgeworth or Jane Austen reminds me that it is the same in any age of the world, even going back to the biblical book of Judges and Ecclesiastes I should remember that, 'every man does what is right in his own eyes,' and that, 'there is nothing new under the sun.'

It isn't that we live in an exceedingly hedonistic age, that is temporal myopia on my part, but rather most men, no matter the age of the world, prefer dissipation and vice and selfishness and their own pleasure above all things, even the welfare and happiness of their own souls and families.  While it may be necessary to fix or replace a necessary plumbing feature in one's home, it is not so obviously necessitous to cultivate and grow one's own character and virtues.  While  the toilet that is flooding the bathroom is an obvious disaster that must be addressed, how little do we realize the shipwreck that is our own morals and go obliviously onward without evening pausing to muse thereupon?  That is one reason I love Austen and Edgeworth and some of their contemporary authors: they are a mirror we might hold up and examine our own lives and souls, and hopefully that we may address the faults reflected therein.

Some of the recent movie adaptations of these beloved classics get it right while others miss the point entirely, making Pride and Prejudice into merely a romance or chick flick.  How many viewers understand that Elizabeth cast off a 'great catch' because she perceived a glaring personality fault she was sure would doom her to misery in such a marriage?  How many of us act like Lydia, running off with Mr. Wickham at great cost to ourselves and those that love us and then return and boast of our triumph at another's expense without the least notion we did anything wrong?  What won Darcy Elizabeth's affections?  Overthrowing his personal shortcomings and exercising his virtue on her behalf.  Which marriage produced a life of mutual comfort, respect, friendship, love, and joy?  Only that based upon virtue, that invisible glue that holds families and societies together!  How's your plumbing?  Is it time to replace a flapper valve or maybe the whole thing?  It might be time to take a look!     

There can be only One

 I had a dubious flirtation with the Highlander movie and TV show back in the '90s when I was babysitting late and the only other option on TV was Star Trek.  I found the idea interesting and the show promising, but hadn't really thought about it much in the ensuing years, except that infamously cool sounding quote, but found the first season and the original movie on a streaming service so gave it a try.  Strangely I'm having similar qualms about it as I did with Harry Potter and Wheel of Time.  I'm an avid story nut, I used to stay up way too late trying to finish the next chapter if a book or series really captivated me, I went to a random movie I knew nothing about to watch a trailer for 'Return of the King,' I read and reread my favorite books impatiently awaiting the next installment, if something hooks me, I'm determined to finish it out, except in the aforementioned cases.

In all three cases I was hooked by a promising story, interesting characters, intriguing setting, big ideas, humor, wit, fun, adventure, a little romance, a promising exploration of what it means to be human (which is what a story is at bottom!).  But even as I devoured the material, gradually it seemed to grow less wholesome, less nutritious, less tasty and satisfying, I really wasn't savoring it as once I had, but why?  I read through five and a half Harry Potter books and ten twelfths of Wheel of Time before I couldn't stomach any more of these cult classic and beloved tales, but why?  The story began to lag, things grew ever darker, characters and plot began to languish, but most of all the worldview was driving me crazy and all hope seemed dead.  I hate modern lit and dystopian tales like 'Brave New World' and 'Animal Farm' (not that I don't appreciate the moral of the tale, and the role of cautionary tales, but they leave me feeling personally depressed which is probably the point!) for just those reasons (fuzzy worldview and lack of hope).  What little time I have to read, I want to read something that can cultivate hope and kindle virtue in a world that is dark enough at times, and before you accuse me of only liking sunshiny tales wherein the roses never fail to flower, take a look at my favorite book list, Les Mis and A Tale of Two Cities and Lord of the Rings aren't exactly replete with daisies!

Highlander struggles with this as well, everything is dark and drear, death and destruction, without a coherent reason for why things are as they are or a set of rules to which they must adhere or why we don't all just commit suicide and get it over with if this is all life has to offer?  Sort of like liberal visions of utopia: eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die, except we should probably die today so we don't further desecrate the earth?!  Why are we living?  That's why we love stories: they tell us how and why life is worth living.  I don't love those books because they are happy, happy, happy all the time, rather I slog with Frodo through Mordor because it is the only way to secure hope, if not for himself, then for the world he leaves behind.  We dodge the law with Jean Val Jean in hopes of a brighter dawn for a wretched little girl.  We rot in jail in revolutionary France because there is such a thing as love.  This sort of sacrifice, determination, endurance, strength, patience, courage I can understand, it makes sense, it is within the realm of our understanding, it is coherent within the stated worldview of the work.

Wheel of Time had a coherent worldview within itself, but it just got so bogged down in minor details and subplots that I lost interest.  Highlander and Harry Potter drove me batty as they never explained how or why things happened, they just were that way?  All three were rather melancholy, at least to me, what is there to hope in or long for or sacrifice for or pursue virtue to attain?  Why bother?  Much like this tale we call life, if you have yet to discover the Author and delve into the backstory, the characters, the rules and laws that govern the world, and have peeked ahead at the denouement.  I suppose tales like Highlander and Harry Potter appeal to the vast array of folk that don't have any other tale to explain existence, to give them a reason and a hope, so they cling to whatever they can, such as it is.  What are you clinging to?  Why do you live?  Are there any rules or coherence in your existence?  Have you any hope?  It may be time to find yourself a new favorite Author, to delve into your own fairy story, for therein is Hope indeed!  

Maria Edgeworth, better than Austen?

 Sacrilege, I know, but I think I might actually like Maria Edgeworth a tad better than Jane Austen, though I'm still a diehard fan, perhaps it is just that Edgeworth's characters get out of the house more?  Austen wrote what she knew: the rather confined life of a single woman of limited means in a rural setting, whereas there is a bit more variety in the experiences of Edgeworth's characters, but otherwise there is humor, excellent writing, a celebration of virtue, interesting characters and plot lines, keen social commentary, and piercing insight into the human condition to be found in the works of both authors.  I've looked for Austen's heir for a long time, and am still looking, but happily one of her contemporaries is definitely worth the read, and all their books can be found for free on Gutenberg.org, enjoy!