Eskimo Invasion in Midwestern United States

Reports have been trickling in from a certain little bird--ok, it was actually a trio of rather large birds, actually--that Eskimos have been sighted in Wausau and surrounding areas. Since this was, obviously, exciting news for those of us who have never seen a real, live Eskimo, we sent out our scouts with their cameras at the ready.

After several days of slogging through slushy snow, enduring frigid temperatures, and being repeatedly chased out of homes by broom-wielding old ladies, one of our photographers found the genuine article. That's right, ladies and gentlemen! One of our photographers, an incognito agent who sneaks around under the guise of being a home schooling student, was able to find and capture this good-looking young Eskimo on film. Of course, he was rather surprised by the camera's flash, because they don't have such things where he comes from, but he's recovering well from the mild case of fried-eyeball syndrome that resulted from the taking of this photo.



If you see this young man during your next Christmas shopping expedition, please do make sure to say hi and tell him how glad you are that he has come to liven up the social scene here in Wausau.

Last night in my medical terminology class, we watched a bit of graphic video footage on the effect that smoking has on your lungs...and the effect that eating cheesecurds and French fries has on your aorta...and the effect that drinking has on your liver...and the effect that candy has on your diabetes. (ok, so it was a clip from Oprah. Whatever.)

But it really made a deep impression on me. Deeper, that is, than some of the other horror stories that I've heard in whispers from well-meaning grandparents, who lean over their Thanksgiving pumpkin pie with wide eyes to warn you about the dangers of going out into public without first checking to make sure that your shirt has all its buttons and your pants are zipped.

So today, as I was meandering from one class to another, I was more struck than usual by the number of people that you find outside puffing away on cancer sticks in subzero degree weather. What's up with that?!

Every time I walked by one of these benevolent individuals who was so dutifully helping to counteract global cooling by emitting as much environmental pollution as possible, I was picturing the alveoli melting away inside of their lungs, and the nasty black tar getting a little thicker and a little nastier with each puff...and it was rather disturbing, to be perfectly frank.

So disturbing, in fact, that I began to think of making a modern rendition of the old Tar Baby/Brer Rabbit stories, only the Tar Baby would be played by a smoker in the new version. And perhaps I'd give the Easter Bunny a speaking part and let him take on the role of Brer Rabbit if he agreed to donate his eggs to the Salvation Army in exchange--I'm pretty sure they're way past their expiration date anyway--he's been carrying them around in that same ol' basket since ten years before I was born...

Any and all script ideas will be given due consideration, and I thank you kindly in advance for your time in this regard.

I came across a very thought-provoking article by George Halitzka on Boundless.org that spoke to some of the difficulties that Christians and non-Christians alike encounter in trying to develop and maintain community...the original article was well worth the read, but these were a few of the main ideas that were particularly striking to me:

"Please Hear What I'm Not Saying"

Don't be fooled by me. Don't be fooled by the mask I wear.

For I wear a mask. I wear a thousand masks — masks that I am afraid to take off,

and none of them are me. Pretending is an art that's second nature to me.

But don't be fooled, for God's sake, don't be fooled!

I give you the impression that I'm secure, that all is sunny and unruffled with me,

within as well as without, that confidence is my name and coolness is my game,

that the water is calm and I'm in command, and that I need no one.

But don't believe me. Please.

"Unfortunately, building a community, with one person or one hundred, is difficult. It calls us to bravely face loss; not running from grief but passing through the Valley of the Shadow. Knowing and being known will wound you so badly you'll never completely heal. Yet if friendships are to be worth having, and life worth living, you need to care anyway. A daring love called agape is the essence of authentic community."

So the question that I am left with, then, is whether I am willing to take the dare? Accept the wounds? Walk through the pain and accept the grief?

But can one bear the alternative to refusing this dare, which is doubtless far uglier than the consequences?

May God grant us the grace to build and maintain authentic community--to take the harder path and reap the deeper reward...

As I was driving through town on my way home from the library last week, I was in a rather analytical mood, and I flipped the radio to a secular music station for a moment to see what was on and to see whether I could evaluate the worldview of what was being said.

On this particular day, at this particular moment, the song that came over the radio was Pain by Three Days Grace, and the lyrics were startling for a number of reasons:

You're sick of feeling numb

You're not the only one

I'll take you by the hand

And I'll show you a world that you can understand

This life is filled with hurt

When happiness doesn't work

Trust me and take my hand

When the lights go out you'll understand

Pain, without love

Pain, I can't get enough

Pain, I like it rough

'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all

What immediately struck me about the words and the way in which they were sung was that this guy isn't looking for answers...he gave up. He is bitterly resigning himself to a fate he despises, despite the agony that it obviously is costing him to admit that that's what he's doing, and now he's turning to the antithesis of everything that he truly wants.

He sought happiness, strove to discover meaning in life, and asked in agony if there was purpose for his life? And in all of his searching, he missed the answers, and he missed the point...so he turns instead to a cheap masochistic substitute and wallows in hopelessness and self-mutilation, deliberately forging deeper into his own private hell, violating others and himself in a deliberate sort of psychological and spiritual hara-kiri...because he would rather feel pain and know that he has not completely lost the sensation of feeling than to feel nothing at all, and so forget that he was once a man who was meant to feel things, meant to BE something great.

It was the saddest thing that I have ever heard, and the words continued to chase each other through my head as I drove along. I was pondering their true significance and wondering how many people could truthfully echo that chorus and claim it as their own personal anthem of defeatism and despair when I passed a bright orange sign.

It had been placed by the road to warn people that there was a crew of men up ahead painting white lines on the pavement for the enlightenment and instruction of Wausau drivers, and it was supposed to say "Paint Crew"...but the T was missing.

Pain Crew.

Yes, that's right. I checked to see if they were singing.

Big boys with big toys

Ha, I'm posting these just because I'm super proud of my big brother (and his lovely wife, who is not picture here...love you, Kels!). I thought these pictures of him with the little Schoepplers were really pretty cute. ;-)

The boys...

...getting a slightly higher view...

...and this is probably right about the point where Joshua completely freaks out? Bless his heart.

The "New Look"?

Some of us got a bit bored with our old hairstyles and our natural haircolor by the end of this week, and since we have so many options available to us in America, we decided that while there may come a day when the courage of men fails, and we break all ties with hairstylists, today is not that day. Today, we change. And here are the results, which I sincerely hope are not permanently traumatizing to any of you, my dear viewers:

I think we were going for the emo/homeless punk look here...

And this would have been...a Weird Al Yankovic impersonation, perhaps?

Josiah as...Blondie? He wasn't crazy about this 'do.

Our history class is studying the '60s, so this one seemed fitting, somehow.

And this one was...just because we love each other.

So there you have it...Saturday night at the Beatys...minus one brother, who was sensibly occupied the entire time reading Grimm's Fairytales. Go Seth! A very sensible chappy, that.

Before you were sleeping...

It was Thursday night, and a sliver of a moon had risen; the stars were out, and the air held just a twinge of frost as a subtle reminder that the sunny days of summer were drawing rapidly to a close.

Classes had gone well, and physical therapy had been rewarding—but it had been a long day, and I was sleepy as I crawled into bed that night. My two youngest brothers were standing in the bedroom doorway, chattering lightheartedly about the things that had made their day special as they supervised to make sure I got safely aboard the bunk without seriously damaging either the bed or myself.

I was listening to them, nodding, and smiling absent-mindedly as my hands smoothed the top of the quilt, winding down for the night. Suddenly my fingers encountered something foreign. Something soft, but firm. Something flesh-like—and dead. A corpse.

I freaked.

The boys looked on with wide eyes and incredulous little grins as I snatched up the small intruder and flung him onto the floor, spluttering and squeaking and generally going ballistic as I did so. They looked at him...and then at me...and then at him again...and then they both gave me one of those you’ve-certainly-got-to-be-kidding-this-time looks. Yes, I am embarrassed to admit this, but my unwelcome guest was a fly.

Normally, I simply find flies annoying, but when they crawl onto my covers and die, I despise them...utterly and completely. And they become objects of a repulsion I cannot even begin to describe—something bordering on phobic.

After informing me that it was indeed just a fly, Seth and Josiah decided that I needed some time alone to face the formidable dead insect by myself and conduct some self-help therapy sessions, so they retired to bed, snickering softly and casting a few amused backwards glances over their shoulders as they ambled off.

Which left me to wonder...why is it that I find flies so completely repugnant when I have no problem handling toads, who are every bit as ugly and germy, most likely? Why do I hate snakes, and yet find lizards intriguing, despite the similarities?

The philosophical side kicked in right about then: why do I tolerate so many types of fickleness and varieties of phobias in myself when I chalk them up to immaturity in other people?

As I gazed at the small black body lying motionless on my carpet and thought of all the unlucky fellow’s insect children who are buzzing around over the face of WI and who will probably never miss him, I was reminded that a) life is too short to waste on sweating the small stuff, and b) people are too valuable to alienate over that which is forgivable, redeemable, and changeable.

And then it was several minutes past bedtime, and Old Man Slumber came knocking gently at my door to take me away to a warm sunny place filled with happy flies who sat on flowers all day long and debated whether or not their ancestors had turned into ghosts, and whether the ghosts of flies who had died violent deaths (such as by swatting or frog-slurping) were rather misshapen...although no conclusion was ever reached on that score, as far as I can remember.

Hey all! It’s been an eventful week—in a quiet, intense sort of way—and I have so many things to be thankful for as it draws to a close that I decided I probably owe everyone a brief update:

On Tuesday, I went in to have reconstructive surgery on my right knee to replace the ACL that was unhappily murdered during my last game of racquetball. Memories of Tuesday are limited. I recall lying on a gurney and hearing a nurse say in a far-off, fuzzy voice that she’d given me a sedative—I remember smiling at her quizzically, wondering why on earth she’d sedated me…didn’t she trust me? She grinned back, took my right hand in hers, and mumbled something about an IV...and then there was a pricking sensation…and there it was again…and again…and again. The nurse forced a desperate little smile as she said, “Wow, you have really tough skin! And really tough veins!”
She dropped my right hand with a shrug, and took my left. Aha! I thought to myself, hence the sedatives…

The next thing I remember was waking up with an IV in my left hand (yay! They got it in!) and a massive bandage on my right leg…I always wondered what it would feel like to be an elephant for a day…I think I have a better sense of that now.

Kinda cute, eh? But no thanks, really...

There was a nifty little pump attached to my leg, pumping some type of drug into one of the major nerves, so there was little to no sensation in the leg itself. Thank you, Lord, for technology!

My lovely mother came in from the waiting room (apparently what seemed to me like a few minutes had, in fact, been over four hours—wow! Thank you, Mom!). Boy, was it good to see her!

Shortly after entering the room, however, she sank into a chair, and the blood left her face. “Quick! Get a bed!” the nurses scurried to get her safely aboard one of those comfy racing mattresses with wheels (the kind you only see in hospitals? Doctors must have so much fun vrooming around with those after hours!). Tada!

(They're a lot faster than you'd suspect...I think we had one up to at least 15 mph on the way to the operating room--my nurse had had a bit too much coffee that morning, I'm fairly certain.)

So there we were, parked happily beside each other, Mom trying to regain enough strength to hop out of bed again, and me trying to stop the uncontrollable shaking that is apparently part of coming out from under anesthesia.

We were soon on our way home, but had to make a quick stop at ShopKo to fill some prescriptions. I stayed in the car, because of the elephantine leg syndrome, and also because the multiple tubes/hoses attached to various parts of my body made locomotion a rather cumbersome task. Mom returned a few moments later, and when I asked how it had gone, she told me weakly that she had passed out again in the store. At that point, we both knew that it was more than just a psychological, “my-child-just-had-surgery” type of deal. As we hit the road again, I think we were both praying with everything we had.

“God? If Mom passes out behind the wheel…there’s no way it’s even physically possible for me to get up to the front in time to take over this vehicle...You know that. So we ask for Your protection, Your mercy, Your grace…” Thank You, Lord, for getting us home!

Mom grew progressively weaker throughout the day, and when Dad came home from work, he stayed just long enough to get Mom into the car so they could head to the clinic. As we kids waited and prayed, and waited some more, reports started trickling in. Dad called to say that Mom had passed out again and was being transported to the hospital by ambulance. Nearly an hour later, Mom called—what a trooper! She explained that she had passed out while they were collecting some blood samples for testing, that her blood pressure had dropped to 50/40, and that the doctors had panicked and shipped her over to the hospital. Now they were waiting on test results…suspecting maybe a heart attack, since Mom’s Dad was about her age when he had his first one. I felt my heart sink. Heart attacks? Those happen to other people’s families…why us? Why now?

The waiting went on, and finally, around midnight, Mom and Dad returned home. I don’t know when I’ve been so glad to see two people as I was to see them! Mom said the blood work had tested negative for a heart attack (YES!!!), but that she was frightfully anemic, had a kidney stone, and was battling a mild UTI. Whew. So…it looks like we’ll both be lying low for a week or so…but we’re so excited to all be home! Thank You, Lord, for Your faithfulness and Your mercy!

Dad and I went to my first physical therapy session the day after surgery—so neat to be starting right in on rehab! When all the bandages came off, the knee was so ridiculously swollen it looked more like an overgrown puffball found out in the backyard than anything I’ve ever seen in Kingdom Animalia, but hey, it can only get better from here, I’m thinking…and despite the puffiness, it bends…sort of…which was comforting. Maybe someday, it will return to full bendiness. (As Michelle says, “Now would be good!” You have no idea how good…) But we shall take the slow way and learn things that would have been overlooked on the fast track. ;-)

Mom and I continue to mend well, and the boys have been amazing—so amazing that I think I’m pretty much out of a job once I get back to full capacity. Except for the cooking thing—the boys are forever indebted to all of the gracious people who have brought food and thus spared them the psychological trauma of cooking. Thanks so much to everyone for your prayers, support, and thoughtful contributions! Ya’ll are the best!

Oo, and...I couldn't possibly forget this! Happy Anniversary to my awesome parents, who are celebrating 26 years today! Know it hasn't always been easy (not like your angelic kids would ever have, um, played you off of each other, or anything like that...little brats...*cough*), but just wanted to say that I'm SO proud of you both for your commitment to each other, to making your relationship grow, and for encouraging each other to passionately pursue a living relationship with Christ. I love you!

Snapshots of the Week

A few photos from Trevor's birthday celebration, for a certain dear sister who was over on the other side of the world, and sorta missed the action:

Dad was an eager on-looker for this momentous event...

...as was Josiah...

...and Seth.
(These family gigs require intense concentration...so please, don't break the train of thought)

Since we wanted Trevor to know how cool and awesome we really think he is, while helping him to look suave and classy at the same time, we found him an exciting card with a nifty sticker inside that expressed our feelings precisely...

And then, since one pair of sunglasses is never enough, we gave him another pair of those, too.

The sticker, combined with the sunglasses with the sweet new nose-shield, gave just the effect we were hoping for: smart, exciting, and definitely unique.

This pink doo-hicky-thing is apparently a brilliant newfangled frisbee that flies like nobody's business--playing catch with the neighbor's hyper puppy will take on a whole new dimension...

...of course, there are multiple uses for this new frisbee.

...and my lovely sister-in-law, Raquel, showing that there are at least two different ways to bring a smile to someone's face.

Raquel showing off her baby bump.
Brock, we love you already! :-)

And 'Chelle, we miss you! Lots and lots.

Birthday Bliss

We celebrated Trevor's birthday tonight, since he'll be at Civil Air Patrol's encampment over the anniversary of the day when his happy introduction to Planet Earth actually occurred.

Somewhere between the time when cake and icecream were dished up and the time when they officially disappeared forever, the boys (Trevor, Seth, and Josiah) got into a lively discussion about birthday candles which left me to wonder what truly goes on inside the mind of an adolescent male:

Josiah: "Yeah, we were at WalMart, looking for birthday candles for you, Trevor...and you know how these things go--you really have to test them to see what kind of product you're getting."

Seth: "Yeah, and some of them were really cool! They burned extra bright, and super long."

Josiah: "Yes! We got the whole candle aisle going at once."

Sis: "Yes, and I bet that store clerk was extra mad for a super long time, too...she probably kicked you out of her store."

Seth: "Um, yes..."

Josiah: "We tried those little tooty horn things, too. You know the kind--the ones they use at parties, and so on? Wow! Some of those are loud. That poor clerk lady..."

Trevor: "I think they make a special new kind of birthday candle now...dy-na-mi-te? Or something like that."

Josiah: "Yeah, it's like...make a wish and blow out your candles. QUICK!!!"

Seth: "And then...Kaboom!"

Josiah: "KABOOM! KABOOM! KABOOM!"

Sis: "And then...'Where's Cadet Beaty?' or 'Boy, where'd you get that funny frosted hat?'"

Trevor: "But next year...next year, you'd definitely know what to do. 'Um, the candles are burning down. AAAAAAAHHHHH! Everybody take cover! Run for your life!'"

Josiah: "Yeah...'Hit the deck! I've got the fire extinguisher!'"

There was an impressive pantomime which took place at that point which left us laughing helplessly in our chairs...

Goodness, I love having teenage brothers. Life would be so. much. less. interesting. without them. ;-)

Happy Birthday, Trevor! Love you!

Photo Shoots with Trevor

My younger brother Trevor and I did a really fun shoot last week for an online contest called "Occupations." He decided that it would be fun to go for a student look...and we came up with some rather zany results:

Something as simple as hairstyle can really make you feel like a complete dork...

I think there was some sort of monologue going on about studying Spanish at this point...

I'm thinking of wearing pigtails to any future job interviews...

...just because they're so fun, and lend a certain air of professionalism.

We did another shoot focused around the element of "Purple":

And maybe not so purple:

A lovely time, all in all. Photo shoots are always full of great laughs, if nothing else. Go Trevor! You're well on your way to going pro with this, my little man, and I'm proud of you! Not only are you becoming an awesome photographer, but you're really growing up spiritually and emotionally as well, and I'm excited to see the incredible man that you're becoming! Woohoo!

Photos from the Park...

I promised to post photographic evidence of our trip to Rib Falls, so here we have it:

This is Thea and Karina trying to find a way to cross the rapids on stepping stones

...Thea and Karina realizing that the stepping stone crossing is a dumb idea, and returning to shore...

... getting sidetracked by the sight of a particularly large crawdaddy...

...waylaid by a well-meaning brother who feels personally responsible for helping girls overcome their unreasonable phobia of pinchers and all things slimy...

This was taken moments after an unfortunate incident which involved an algae-covered rock, a river, and a blonde who thought she could stand on the rock. Obviously, the river won...

Enjoying the view (we had a pretty handsome photographer for this shot)

Handsome photographer included in this one--it's what they call a "package deal," perhaps?

Moments with Karina

This past week and a half has been an experience in and of itself, so I'll just take a quick moment to recap some of the highs and lows.

Ana Karina Ojeda Mondragon came all the way from Morelia, Mexico, to join our family on Saturday, July 5th, and our shy little Mexican maiden has since been adjusting quite well to life in Wisconsin. We regret that she can only stay a month, and I do believe at least one of my brothers is considering the possibity of hijacking one of her suitcases on the return trip for sinister stow-away purposes.

One of the many wonderful things about Karina is that she speaks Spanish. Really well. And she's very patient, and very gracious. In fact, she typically refrains from laughing at my attempts to speak Spanish, save for one or two memorable instances in which I accidentally said something completely and unforgivably preposterous while earnestly believing that I was communicating something rather different.

Sunday evening we went to the local park and took her down to climb on the rocks by the waterfall. She had never seen a crawdaddy before, so my younger brother, Josiah, caught two of them and spent a good five minutes trying to convince her that their pinches aren't fatal, and that she should touch one. (I was on her side on this particular issue). The crawdaddies were finally sent sailing back into the water in a series of graceful underhand pitches. Josiah had also found a tadpole, however, which he convinced her to hold in her hand for a moment while we examined the legs sprouting from its slimy little body and commented on the unusual shape of its strange puffy head. She squealed every time the tail flipped, which Josiah found tremendously amusing.

I thought it would be fun for her to learn to play racquetball while she was here, since she's already an avid tennis player, and there's some similarities between the two sports (meaning that both involve a ball, and raquets. I have found that the similarities end there.) However, she graciously agreed to spend an hour with me last Wednesday morning hitting the ball around and learning some of the basics. The two of us played as a team against a friend for the first half hour, and then she asked if she could sit out for a bit and watch us play to get a better idea of what this crazy game is really all about without having to worry about decapitation due to poor raquet handling in the meanwhiles. (Did I mention that she's intelligent? She is.)

The guy we were playing with that morning is a more experienced player than Karina or myself, and he was hitting fast drives down the center of the court after she stepped out to observe. On the third one, I went in for it a little bit too low and a bit too stretched out. As my racquet connected with the ball, there was an odd popping sound in my right knee accompanied by a strange searing sensation...and that was the end of the game. I spent the rest of the morning playing "take the X-ray" and "meet the doctor," accompanied by my wonderful Mom...one of the primary rules of this new game is apparently "ice it." What fun. We'll find out what the damage was after the MRI, but in the meantime...

Karina and I spent Monday evening at the Langhaven, enjoying a wonderful time of reading, talking, laughing, and eating tasty food as we discussed the finer points of Hannah Hurmand's "Hind's Feet on High Places" with a number of lovely ladies. There was a lot of very good discussion as everyone began to compare notes. When asked on the home trip how much of the evening conversation she had understood, Karina laughed sheepishly, shrugged a bit, shook her head, and said, "It was very...fun." What a trooper! English is a pathetically tough language to master...

We've enjoyed many great conversations since she came, and her language skills are certainly improving. Being laid up for the past week has forced me to slow down a bit and focus more on the relational aspect of her visit than I had originally planned for--it's been good, although I confess that having to give up some of the things we were hoping to do together hasn't set well with me on various days.

Pictures to come shortly! I'm discovering that a month is a surprisingly short span of time!

Of Boys and Toys...

Peace reigns in the house. The only sounds which break the beautiful silence are the contented murmurings of little boys playing trucks together. I am holding my breath and crossing my fingers as I head back upstairs to start the supper dishes. Maybe this whole 'playing together until bedtime' thing will actually work? I wonder hopefully.

But such is not to be the case. Angry shouting and lugubrious wails begin to drift up from the basement, demanding immediate attention from a certain babysitter. Me.

As I stand in the doorway taking in the whole situation, I feel a thoughtful smile twitching at the corners of my mouth. There's something oddly amusing about selfish human nature when it surfaces in lively little boys--pathetic in a way, but also amusing.

The two young gents before me were each intent on proving that he was the one who had been woefully wronged by his pesky brother. I was greeted, amid much racket, by two lovely sets of healthy tonsils, the owners of which were roaring angrily, heads thrown back to give additional volume and add to the dramatic effect.

It was eventually ascertained that a certain younger brother had stolen the very same red Lego that a certain older brother was just preparing to put to honorable use in the construction of his lovely rendition of the Eiffel tower. Tragic, certainly. But not for the reasons they expected. Both youngsters were sent off to brush their teeth in preparation for bed while pondering the virtue of selflessness, and I returned to the kitchen where the dishes were still waiting, shaking my head laughingly, and wondering why it is that little boys and girls are so often unable to see the beautiful personalities God has placed in their siblings.

As the water started sudsing in the sink, I was struck by the realization that it's not just little boys and girls who are blind to the beauty in people around them. How many times have I myself failed to recognize or appreciate the awesome imprint of God's image as it appears in the men and women that He brings into my life?

I plopped a stack of plates into the soapy water, and began to scrub. What is it that keeps us from being intimate with the people around us? What comes in the way of genuine fellowship? What makes it so difficult to recognize and appreciate the boundless value of each and every person? I raised an eyebrow thoughtfully.

James 4:1 popped into my mind: "Where do wars and fights come from among you? Do they not come from your desires for pleasure which war in your members?"

All too often I am unable to appreciate others because I am so intent on achieving my own pleasure, of proving my own significance. My drive to be important, or to feel loved and appreciated, comes between me and the true blessing of God-glorifying fellowship and honest friendship that God intends for each of His beloved children.

A lesson from Focus on the Family's "Truth Project" emerged from the memory archives of my mind. Del Tackett had been musing on the tragedy of Saul's relationship with David, lamenting the fact that Saul's hunger for significance and human praise destroyed a potentially beautiful bond between the two of them. In closing, he turned to the class and asked, "Can you be willing, and joyfully willing, to lose your significance?"

Oof. That's tough. Joyfully insignificant? I bit my lower lip as I built my own rendition of the Leaning Tower of Pisa in the dish drainer. Tough, yes. But if my true significance comes from my worth in God's eyes, then I am foolish to think that His love, His affirmation, and His acceptance is not enough. In fact, it is worse than foolish--it is the equivalent of prostitution to say to God, "You are not enough," and to look elsewhere for the fulfillment that He is so willing to bountifully give me. He is the true Lover of my soul. He has made me for Himself, and He alone can bring satisfaction, significance, and healing into my life.

I breathe in deeply as I listen to the clink of silverware movings between my fingers, basking in the knowledge that I serve an awesome God, a God Who speaks...
And then I hear shouting coming from the bathroom, where my two little munchkins have been busily preparing for bed:

"You're using my toothbrush!"

"Nu uh! Thith ith mine!"

Arg. Learning life lessons is apparently a life-long process.

Let My People Think

I recently finished a thought-provoking volume by Ravi Zacharias entitled “Deliver Us From Evil.” It blessed me and challenged me in a way that I did not expect, and so I have written a brief synopsis below, composed entirely of quotes from the book itself.

Questions we must answer:
"Can an individual or a society live with complete disregard for a moral and spiritual center and not suffer from the wounds of wickedness? Can the soul of a people who have lived without restraint be left unravaged? Is there a point at which one must cry a halt to the passions and the whims of unbridled appetite and admit that enough is enough?"

"The ideas we now popularly espouse are reshaping our culture, redefining our destiny, and are at the heart of the rampant evil that we now witness. They are ideas, therefore, that must be seriously questioned or we will find ourselves in some remorse-filled future, wondering how it all happened."


Secularism, Pluralism, and Privatization: the Threats We Face Today

Threat #1: What is Secularism?
"A secular world-view is admittedly and designedly the underlying impetus that presently propels Western culture...[and] secularization assumes that this world--the material world--is all we have. Any view that affirms the supernatural is, by definition, considered irrelevant or irrational. Simply stated, secularism asserts that public life is to be conducted without reference to religion or to any notion of transcendence."

So secularism asserts that religion is not to enter public life, that any voice affirming the supernatural is "irrelevant or irrational," and hence, not worthy of public respect. Why should we care, and how does this affect us?
The shift from the sacred to the secular was undergirded by one fundamental idea that was foisted upon Western culture: The implicit denial of the miraculous or the supernatural to explain human essence or existence...As a result, it is no longer only land that is secularized but life itself. Matter is under the spotlight; the soul is systematically disfigured in the attic of existence.
"...single-minded attack on Christianity in the name of relevance underscores secularism's primary target...relentless attack upon anything that has to do with the supernatural is the imprint of secularist dogmatism...the Bible cannot be the Word of God, for to grant even that theoretical possibility would be an admission of the supernatural."

"...if the goal at the inception of America was to reconcile liberty with law, then [secularism poses] a devastating contradiction. For law cannot merely serve as a random set of rules without any objective point of reference. And for law to be effective, it is equally necessary that a reaction to its violation must go beyond an objective framework to a felt subjective response within the individual to whom the law is making its appeal. In other words, it is not sufficient just to have a law "out there" for people to obey. There must be an inner urge, or hunger, to keep and honor that law because it is good. Secularism cannot accomplish this in the hearts and minds of people, because the mind it has created is a pragmatic one, and pragmatism will always find ways to circumvent and misuse the law rather than to revere it."
"Secularism...has done away with a moral law and destroyed the sensitivity of an individual toward honoring that law. The evil we now witness is from the ash heap of destroyed sensitivities."

If secularism does indeed do away with moral law, what are the natural consequences which follow?
"The difference between criminals who try desperately to cover their faces when they are escorted into court and those who smile remorselessly as they strut in to the courtroom is civilizations apart. The ones covering their faces or shedding a tear have at least a vestige of reachability. There is at least the hint of the possibility of change, because there is a point of reference for wrong, some shared meanings between the wrongdoer and society. For any corrective in behavior or for punitive measures to be effective, there must be some point of hurt or undesired feeling within the one who has done wrong. Shame or remorse or society's disapproval is powerless today to induce a desire to change, because the ideas that shape our culture make shame a hangover of an antiquated religious world-view."
"The loss of shame in a society is ultimately an attack upon all of civilization. Why is that so? Put succintly, it is this. The man who molests a child and feels a sense of shame expresses that shame because he has denuded and defaced that one person. The person who commits this same act and feels no shame in effect denudes and defaces the whole world, because he is thereby telling us that our self-respect and the sacredness of physical privacy are worthless. His loss of shame is an attack upon all of humanity, because shame was given to us as a guardian, not only of ourselves, but of our fellow human being...the loss of belief in the supernatural, which secularism implies, has led to an eradication of the sense of shame, which secularism cannot deal with."

The soil of shamelessness gives root to evil in its most violent forms. The unbearable reality of secularism's consequential loss of shame is that the ones we victimize by evil can even be the ones we claim to love...The evils we foist upon children at the hands of responsible adults are not crimes born of hate. They are passions unleashed and justified by a conscience bereft of shame or remorse...Shame is meant to protect the very ones we love. But our culture has killed it. With the name of God now unhallowed and His kingdom not welcome, does it make any sense to cry, "Deliver us from evil"?

Threat #2: What is Pluralism?
"Very simply, pluralism is defined as the existence and availability of a number of world-views, each vying for the allegiance of individuals, with no single world-view dominant...Pluralism became a vital force in the West because it came at a time when weariness with mainstream religion provided justification for many to dabble in other ways of thinking."

How does pluralism affect us?
"The danger for the Christian is not that pluralism exists on the outside; rather, it is the deadly effect of relativism that has taken hold of the Christian mind. The life of one who follows Christ must have the clear ring of truth to it rather than conveying a surrender in the name of pluralism to the relativism of the age...As Christians, we know that in this world we have no continuing city, that crowns roll in the dust, and that every earthly kingdom must sometime flounder. We acknowledge a King men did not crown and cannot dethrone, and we are citizens of a city of God they did not build and cannot destroy."
"Pluralization offers much in the way of variety, and the enrichment we bring to one another is incalculable. But when pluralism breeds a doctrine of relativism the cost has been too great. The abandonment of some necessary transcultural parameters has given way to the absence of reason in the contemplation of life's deepest questions. The end result is a cultural amalgam that will be unstable in its journey. That instability is now represented in the loss of reason. If the loss of shame was the child of secularization, the loss of reason is the child or pluralization."

"What we laugh at and what we weep for has much to say about our rationality. One look at the current fare from our entertainment world ought to give us pause about where our reason has one. What is more, when academia joins in and belittles reason itself and tells us that the laws of logic no longer apply to reality, then we are doubly denuded, for there is no one to rescue us."

Threat #3: What is Privatization?
"Privatization may be defined as the socially required and legally enforced separation of our private lives and our public personas; in effect, privatization mandates that issues of ultimate meaning be relegated to our private spheres."

"While secularization has cleansed the public arena of religious ideas, privatization insists that though one may choose to believe whatever one wants to, it must be kept private. This is the social phenomenon of privatization that magnanimously gives with one hand and militantly takes away with the other--and is then mystified that this benevolence is not appreciated."

"Commitment to God most certainly has its private expression, but it implicitly directs all of life. Spiritual reality is not just a sentinel from 5:00 to 11:00 p.m. behind closed doors. Privatization with disregard for coherence forces this dichotomy. In the name of nonoffensiveness, religion is privatized and relegated to the home, while in the name of freedom, all kinds of indecencies and abandonments are made public. How ironic that sexuality and nudity, which are meant to be private, are now fare for public consumption, while spiritual convictions, which are meant to strengthen public polity, are now for private expression only."
"We know that the premise of privatization is flawed because who we are in public is determined by what we have learned and cherished in private."

What is the final result when secularization is coupled with pluralization to produce privatization?
"Secularization left society without shame and with no point of reference for decency, and pluralization left society without reason and with no point of reference for rationality. Privatization--born from the union of the other two--has left people without meaning and with no point of reference for life's coherence. The greatest victim of evil so engendered is the self. We no longer know who we are as people."

"Evil does not come only in the garb of a masked murderer. In its most cunning and destructive form, it comes as an idea dressed in sophisticated attire, rationalized by [the] prophets of the wind."
"A society without a point of reference for shame, reason, and meaning has very little to offer a generation in search of strength with which to live, goodness by which to live, and freedom in which to live. These were the very failures that felled the Greco-Roman world."

What lifeline of hope do we have to offer a society drowning in their own confusion?
"To the rugged materialist, we just happen to be here, clothed apes, a blip on the radar screen of time, a cosmic accident. But to the Christian, our existence is by the designed will of our heavenly Father who is ever in control of the universal scene."

We must remember that:
"...any nation at any time--however spiritually alive--is always potentially only a generation away from paganism and mind-defying evil. One can never sit back on past successes and assume a sustained strength for the future. Ever generation must win its own victory."

"If truth be not diffused, error will be; if God and His Word are not known and received, the devil and his works will gain the ascendency; if the evangelical volume does not reach every hamlet, the pages of a corrupt and licentious literature will; if the power of the Gospel is not felt throughout the length and breadth of the land, anarchy and misrule, degradation and misery, corruption and darkness will reign without mitigation or end."

"Indeed, the Bible is not just the trust of monarchs, nor is it just the standard for a nation's conscience. It is the definitive reality of life's purpose, from God's mind to ours. The "Book of the Law" mirrors the soul as it was intended to be. It reveals the sacredness of our words to each other--engendering trust. It holds us to the sanctity of our marital vows--enriching the splendor of love. It preserves the essential dignity of every human being--elevating the beauty of relationships. It bequeaths to us the sacredness of time--enjoining the sanctity of both work and rest. It commands us to respect the property of others--breaking the stranglehold of fear. It guards our essential purpose--energizing us by the coalescence of worship. It is the Mind of God. It is the Law of God. This is not a bondage to rules; this spells deliverance from evil. This was not meant for us to hate; this was made for us to love. For this we were made: that we might know the mind of God and let that mind dwell in us. This is the Word that calls us to reason together with God so that the evil within us may stir us more than the evil around us. It is only in that sequence that the soul of an individual and the soul of a nation can be recovered."

Once a nation has turned down the path of secularism, is there a way out?
"What [is] it that [makes] it possible for a people to turn their backs upon a culture immersed in evil and make a heartfelt change for the good? It [is] the belief that God [has] spoken, and that life is at its core sacred. Without those two beliefs, no society can stem the tide of evil. The place to begin, therefore, is in the individual life. The soul of a nation is changed one person at a time."

"G.K. Chesteron said the problem with Christianity is not that is has been tried and found wanting, but that is has been found difficult and left untried...the change the Word brings is not just a psychological one. The change is that of the mind as it grasps the truth and is not swayed by a mere feeling but by the deliverance deep within."
"We cannot rename wickedness and consider it solved. There is an irrepressible voice, and it is the voice of the soul, which says evil cannot be trivialized. This is what the gospel message is about. This is what the cross is all about. Failing to recognize this has disfigured the soul of America."

"The grandeur of the gospel strikes deep into the soul of wickedness because it offers not merely an analysis of the condition nor just the strength to do what is right; it goes to our innermost being, where the work of God changes what we want to do...This transformation can only take place when evil is fully faced for what it truly is and the soul is bought back from under its control."
"Today our alabaster cities have become tarnished, and with eyes dimmed by tears we cry, 'Deliver us from evil.' But that deliverance can come only if we respond to the Creator's loving invitation: 'Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.' (Matt 11:28-29)"