Striving for Nobility

I saw a movie last weekend called Kingsman: The Secret Service.  It had its moments, which means wait for the rental.  One of the main characters spoke a memorable line, quoting Ernest Hemingway.  Trying to motivate and encourage his young apprentice, the sophisticated and highly accomplished spy said, "There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self."  The novice spy was motivated and encouraged, and so was I.  This quote has stewardship, one of my favorite principles, written all over it.

However, I think true nobility is displayed in the effort one expends in the quest to be superior to one's former self.  At a certain point physical prowess declines for everyone, but the determination and perseverance required to be fit are noble character traits that even an old guy like me can aspire to.

As with athletic endeavors, academic performance is improved only through the same determination and perseverance, and that's admirable and noble.  And since there's always more I could learn, this can be a lifetime pursuit.  I just wish I could remember everything I've ever learned.

The same noble determination and perseverance can help me grow as a Christian.  I believe sanctification is a work of God's grace, but by his grace he somehow uses Bible study, prayer, worship with brothers and sisters, work and service, life circumstances, and many other things as means by which I can be "enabled more and more to die unto sin, and live unto righteousness."  Funny thing about Christian growth, though.  I have found out that as I have grown as a Christian, the gulf between my efforts and God's standards seems to grow ever wider.  "Wretched man that I am!  Who will deliver me from this body of death?  Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!"

A Place With a Reputation for Hopelessness

In the late 1800s, no one really knew what it was like at the North Pole.  No one had ever been there.  Various expeditions had tried and failed.  The most prominent scientists of the day believed that the ice pack that was found each time a ship headed north was just a ring of ice and that if a ship could just get through that ring, beyond it there would be open sea all the way to the North Pole and that it might even be warm up there.  On 8 July 1879, after month’s of planning, the USS Jeannette set sail from San Francisco, its destination being the North Pole.  It sailed through the Bering Strait and by 7 September the Jeannette was stuck in the ice of the Arctic Ocean.  Getting stuck was part of the plan.  The ship was specially constructed so that it could withstand the pressure of the ice.  And though they didn’t know what was beyond the ice pack, scientists knew the ice migrated and they figured a ship stuck in the ice would eventually migrate through to what they thought was the open polar sea.  The crew of the Jeannette fell victim to this erroneous, though widely held, scientific theory.  On 11th June 1881, twenty-one months after getting stuck in the ice, the ice around the ship melted enough so that she once again floated on open water.  For the first time in almost two years, the crew experienced again what it was like to be aboard a ship at sea.  However, the very next day, on 12 June 1881, the ice pack began to shift and move and then it converged on the ship and, despite the special construction of the ship, this time the ice crushed the USS Jeanette and it sank, stranding 33 men and 40 sled dogs on the ice.  They were 700 miles from the North Pole but they knew if they wanted to survive, they had to head south.  The nearest land was the arctic coast of Central Siberia, almost 1000 miles away.  The crew, of course, had heard of Siberia and knew it to be a frozen wasteland.  It was a place of exile, a place where people were sent to die.  In order to survive, they had to get to a place where most people didn’t survive.  In his book about the voyage of the Jeannette, Hampton Sides said this about Siberia, “Their only hope was a place with a reputation for hopelessness.”  Their only hope was a place with a reputation for hopelessness.   When I read that sentence I thought about the cross.  The cross was certainly a place with a reputation for hopelessness.  Crucifixion as a way of execution was highly reliable.  No one attached to a cross came out of it alive.  This was also true of our Lord, Jesus Christ, and when he died on the cross his disciples mourned and went into hiding, thinking it was all over.  It really isn’t surprising that they should have behaved like this.  Their teacher, their leader, the one Peter had described as “the Christ, the son of the living God,” was dead and buried.  But, of course, three days later Jesus rose from the dead and eventually appeared in the flesh to his disciples and many other followers.  With the help of the Holy Spirit, the apostles came to understand not just the meaning of the cross, but the absolute necessity of it.  “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”  Each of us deserves to suffer the wrath of God.  We can only be “justified by his grace as a gift, through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus."  Our only hope is the cross, a place with a reputation for hopelessness.  

God's presence and sovereignty in hell

I've just finished reading two books about prisoners' experiences as American POWs in the Hanoi Hilton during the Vietnam war.  The first was entitled Surviving Hell, by Leo Thorsness (who grew up in Walnut Grove, MN, home at one time to Laura Ingalls Wilder) and the second was entitled When Hell Was in Session, by Jeremiah Denton (who went on to become a senator from Alabama).  Both included graphic descriptions of the way they were treated and so were at times difficult to read.  But both were also inspiring.  Faith in God was part of what sustained both these men during their ordeals and God's presence and help were real to these men (and many of their fellow POWs).  One of the incidents described by Jeremiah Denton was especially moving and the following paragraphs are from his book, starting on page 140.  As background, please note that the POWs were for the most part forbidden to communicate with each other and, for the umpteenth time, Jeremiah Denton was suspected of having broken that rule.  The rear cuffs refer to cuffs around his wrists, which are behind his back, and the traveling irons are around his ankles.  Flesher is one of his fellow POWs.

"They wanted me to confess what I had actually talked about, and I was put in rear cuffs and a double set of traveling irons and taken to the latrine-bathhouse, where I was told to kneel in the hot sun.  The bathhouse was concrete and uncovered, and the four walls reflected the rays of the burning sun.  I guessed that the temperature was 120 degrees or more.  As I knelt and sweated under the noonday sun, I could hear Flesher somewhere nearby, screaming and moaning.  I closed my eyes and said the rosary.

My physical condition was poor, and as the hours went on I would fall over.  The guard would come and drag me around the rough concrete by my leg irons until I managed to get on my knees again.  I weakened rapidly, and to make matters worse, I had to move my bowels.  It is peculiar the way the mind works under certain circumstances.  It was not relief from the sun that I wanted most right then.  It was not food, or water, or even removal of the cuffs or traveling irons.  What I wanted was toilet paper.

I was already so filthy and uncomfortable that I didn't feel I could stand one more discomfort, that of defecating without the luxury of toilet paper.  And there was no way the silent, sullen guard outside would provide that amenity.

As the long minutes passed, my need became more pronounced.  So as I kneeled in the sun, my head bowed, fever raging through my body, I once again turned to my source of strength.  I prayed, almost apologetically, for a small favor.

When I had completed my request, I threw my head back and peeped under my blindfold at the sky.  As I looked up, I saw a large leaf, swirling and fluttering in the heavy air and heading my way.

I watched fascinated as it took a sudden dive and landed practically at my feet.  It was large, about 9 inches long and 6 inches wide, and pleasantly furry on one side.  Perfect!

I twisted my body and picked the leaf up with my cuffed hands, tore it into four pieces, and worked my way to the nearby bucket, where I put the pieces to use."

I highly recommend both these books.  I finished Leo Thorsness' book while riding the bus to work one morning and I had to fight back tears as I read about his return to America.

At Bats and Possessions

I can't multitask.  Can anyone?  I think women can.  Not me.  In fact, I'm trying to stop trying.  It turns out that a lot of the time when I'm tempted to multitask, it comes down to trying to carry on some interpersonal communication with a real person vs. carry on some task with a thing (especially the computer).  Usually the person gets the short end of the stick.  So now, if there's some action that needs my attention while I'm interacting with another person, I apologize for interrupting the interaction, admit that I can't multitask, take care of the action, and then direct my attention once again to the person.  I've found that there's a peace that comes with the confession that I can't multitask.  Maybe it's the peace that comes with speaking the truth.  

Earlier this year, I read a book by former UNC basketball coach Dean Smith, and one of things he was always trying to get his players to do was to focus on "this possession."  "Win this possession."  A basketball player trying to win a particular possession can't be multitasking.  Neither can a guy trying to hit a baseball.  I wonder if that's why I was never very good at hitting a baseball.  Some lessons are learned too late.

In God's providence, page after page

I participated in an exercise with a small group several months ago.  Each of us in the group was given a few minutes to come up with a 6-word philosophy of life.  I don't remember the one I came up with, but as I thought about it later, I came up with one that I've hung onto:  In God's providence, page after page.  


One of my daily struggles is worrying how I'm gonna satisfactorily perform all I need to do.  At work, at least, there's almost always more to do than I have time for.  At the beginning of the day, I look at all the tasks ahead of me and I wonder if I'll be able to do them all.  Moreover, it's a certainty that whatever's on my list at the beginning of the day, there'll be more added to it.  How will I manage?  I hate to admit it, but at times I feel something akin to panic.


Two years ago, in 2009, because it was the 500th anniversary of his birth, I heard and read a lot about John Calvin.  He taught a lot about God's providence, and meditating on God's providence has helped me with my struggle with worry.  Nothing happens outside of God's providence and everything that happens is in some sense ordained by God, including everything that's on my list every day.  It's on my list because he put it there.  He put it there in a particular order and I'm to work on each item in that particular order.  Seriatim.  Start with page one, focus on it, and do it.  Then go to page two.  After that, page three, &c.  If there's an interruption or a surprise, it's there in his providence.  It didn't take him by surprise.  This sounds pretty basic, yet thinking about my day in terms of the providence of God has really made a difference in my attitude.  I wish I could say I'm cured of all worry, but that's not true.  Nevertheless, multiple times a day as I think about what I'm doing, I call to mind the sovereignty and the providence of God, and that's a good thing.    

Witness

Witness is the title of a book by Whittaker Chambers. On a superficial level, it's the story of the Alger Hiss spy case. But primarily, it's the story of Whittaker Chambers' journey into and out of Communism.  This is a largely forgotten chapter in American history and that's unfortunate. The book is long and is tedious when dealing with the formal trial of Alger Hiss. But the part about how Whittaker Chambers became and functioned as a communist spy is riveting. However, I believe the best part of the book is the foreword, which Whittaker Chambers crafts in the form of a letter to his children. This brief essay should be required reading for every American high school student.  Whittaker Chambers wrote that "two faiths were on trial:"  "Communism and Freedom."  The differences between the two faiths ultimately came down to one thing:  God.  According to Chambers, "the Communist vision is the vision of Man without God."  
This struggle still goes on today, and the spirit of Communism lives on in a number of related "faiths."  It lives on, for example, in those who maintain that the individual is of lesser value than the group and that it's moral to sacrifice any number of individuals for the sake of a particular group.  It's not enough, though, to oppose such a vision.  Chambers wrote, "a man is not primarily a witness against something.  That is only incidental to the fact that he is a witness for something.  A witness, in the sense that I am using the word, is a man whose life and faith are so completely one that when the challenge comes to step out and testify for his faith, he does so, disregarding all risks, accepting all consequences."
God grant me the courage to be a witness for Jesus Christ and for his gospel and for the worldview that is Christianity.   

My Help

Henry Lee, Juanita, Evalina, & Edner.  I wanted to record for posterity the names of some of the women who "practically raised" me, according to my mother.  I don't know their last names.  I don't even know if their names are correctly spelled (the above names are phonetically spelled, based on my mother's pronunciation).  These were black women who worked for my mother, taking care of me when I was very young.  Sadly, I don't remember them (I have no memory of anything before kindergarten.  I remember getting a whipping for "getting lost" during a kindergarten class trip to the circus.  I also remember that I wasn't lost; I wandered off to look at the chameleons that were for sale.  I was fascinated by them & wanted to watch them more than whatever else was going on under the big top.  No doubt that unjust whipping scarred me for life.  It wiped out my pre-kindergarten memory & to this day I don't like circuses & I break out in a cold sweat in the presence of old maid schoolmarms).  Anyway, it grieves me that I don't remember these women or the things they taught me.  However, given the culture of the day, I have no doubt that they were relatively strict and openly & unashamedly based whatever rules they had on the Bible.  Consequently, I also have no doubt that I'll see 'em again in glory.

I will lift up my eyes to the hills--
From whence comes my help?
My help comes from the LORD,
Who made heaven and earth.

These are the opening two verses of Psalm 121, one of the Songs of Ascents, recited by the Jews as they walked up to Jerusalem for one of the holy days.  As they approached Jerusalem, they looked up at the hills where various "high places" were found.  These were shrines, often to idols, that were unauthorized by God.  The Jews then affirmed that their help comes not from any source other than the Lord, who made heaven and earth.  I also affirm that God alone is my help and that, ultimately, it is he who works through various agents to help me, discipline me, and direct my way.  He worked through Henry Lee, Juanita, Evalina, and Edner.  He will be my help today, and I can trust him to be my help in the future.  He neither slumbers nor sleeps.  Praised be God, and not our strength, for it.