Unexpected Feeling

I had an unexpected feeling recently and thought this would be a good way to work it out.

A couple of months ago, we were able to go home to Texas to see family for the first time in four years.

It's never a good idea to wait that long.

But we took full advantage of every minute we could while we were there. One of the things we did was to watch a home video we had made of the kids when they were really little after we had just moved to Georgia. We made it so we could send copies home to our parents so they could see their little grandchildren playing in the yard, doing school, and just living life at our little farmhouse.

It was a sweet time of reflection and caused a flood of memories that I loved reliving.

Once we got home, we found another VHS with a slideshow of pictures of the boys (the oldest two only) from the time they were born until they were each about 5 and 2. Oh my gosh. SWEET. LITTLE. BABIES.

Well the oldest (now 20) decided he wanted to convert the VHS into a digital format so we could watch it. He had to take our old VHS player apart to clean and tinker with to get it to play, but he did it while capturing the video using some little doo-hickey thing he plugged into my laptop. {Sidebar: it blows my mind that I used to be a computer science major and at one time knew all about the technology that was out at that time...now I feel like an outdated floppy disk.}

Anywho.

After he converted the file, I finally sat and watched the whole thing. And bawled like a stinkin' baby.

Well don't get me wrong; I fought it, allowing only a couple of tears to actually fall down my face. As soon as it was over, I barrelled into the bathroom to ugly cry. It was bad.

What in the world was that?

I'm not sure if this makes me really selfish, but the best way I could describe what was going on inside was grief. As in loss. I really, really missed being able to scoop them up and hug their entire body at once. I missed their toothless kisses and baby shampoo hair. I missed their tiny, fat fingers barely closing around my index finger, not wanting to let go no matter what was going on. I missed reading them stories while they piled in my lap and pulled another book from the stack they brought me. I missed picking them up from the nursery on Sunday mornings and their faces lighting up when they made eye contact with me. I missed bath time and brushing their teeth and helping them put their pj's on.

It's been forever since I did these things, and like smelling playdough for the first time as an adult has that way of thrusting you back into your own childhood, watching this video and hearing this song threw me right back into their childhood.

And I was missing it. I was missing them.

Now, I have a precious friend who lost her son a few years ago. He was a Marine and was one of the Chattanooga Five who fell at the hands of a terrorist (I don't care what the news reporters say). When I use the word "grief," I am not using it in the same way my dear friend has had to experience grief. I pray I never EVER have to go through what she's gone through in her level of grief.

But this overwhelming feeling I had after watching that slideshow was a form of grief, I think. And I did not expect that at all.

Don't get me wrong. I love my boys now. I love listening to them tell stories, laugh at geeky memes, and sing in the car as loud as they can to TobyMac or KB. And my heart overflows with love when I watch them play the guitar or ukulele or lose their voices from encouraging their football teammates to overcome adversity. And I love listening to them share their creations with me...from video clips to artwork to lego creations. I love it all and wouldn't change a thing about them now.

It seems so cliche to say, but I just wonder where the time went. And those babies seem so distant to me now, like a lifetime ago. And I'm beginning to understand why people have said for so long that grandparenting is the best...it's because you get a tangible glimpse of that bygone joy back in your lap for a new season. I'm a long way away from that, but it gives me hope of something to look forward to one day.

I'm not even 46 years old yet, so this was really the first time I've been overcome by these thoughts. As time goes on (and it will), I've a feeling I'll be experiencing more of this ride. This is my attempt at trying to embrace the ride, the unexpected feelings, and the white knuckles to show for it.

Mere Morality

As you may have already guessed, the title of this post is a play on one of the most influential and poignant books written in our day, Mere Christianity. I agree with C.S. Lewis when he said, "I can't imagine a man really enjoying a book and reading it only once." Hence, I am reading Mere Christianity yet again...because my simple mind just can't hold on to that which I've gained by reading it only once.

It's the same reason I continue to read the Holy Scriptures, too, but I digress.

A little backdrop - the book Mere Christianity is divided up into three separate books, which were previously published as separate pamphlets. Prior to that, the contents in these books had been delivered by C.S. Lewis in a series of radio shows produced during World War II while Lewis resided at Oxford.

The first book inside the collection deals with the concepts of "right and wrong as a clue to the meaning of the universe." It is broken down as such: "The Law of Human Nature", "Some Objections," "The Reality of the Law," "What Lies Behind the Law," and "We Have Cause to Be Uneasy."

Book II addresses what Christians believe. Lewis is very intent on (and does an excellent job) keeping to the fundamental beliefs of all Christians...never chasing rabbit trails that define denominations. He sticks to the core beliefs held by (or should be held by) anyone claiming the Name of Christ as his or her Savior.

The final portion, and I would say the last half of the entire book, is spent on "Christian Behavior." Now, I realize we all think we know what constitutes "Christian behavior," but Lewis again wisely avoids attempting to sort out human differences here.

And this is where I want this post to settle in. The first part of this section is entitled, "The Three Parts of Morality." And I believe that many people in this world are simply oblivious to this reality. Most, Lewis would say, are stuck in the first part and never realize the second or third. This is key to understanding why we see what we're seeing in the world that causes an incessant wagging of our heads. We can't understand how humanity got here.

Morality, Lewis points out, is something that, in many people's minds, seems to interfere with one's desire to have a good time. "Don't do this; you MUST do that." We've all had that juvenile mindset at one point or another that says, "I don't want to be religious because I don't want some dude in a dress telling me what to do."

Fair. If that's where it ends, I'm there too. But that's not where it ends.

Battleship Formation Analogy

Lewis explains that "[t]here are two ways in which the human machine goes wrong. One is when human individuals drift apart from one another, or else collide with one another and do one another damage, by cheating or bullying." In this first instance, Lewis refers to social relations - how we relate to one other. We either hurt one another or drift away from each other, thereby damaging the relationship. He goes on: "The other is when things go wrong inside the individual - when the different parts of him (his different faculties and desires and so on) either drift apart or interfere with one another." Here he is referring to personal integrity. Damage is incurred when a person does something that he knows is wrong and thwarts his own sense of right. His sense of right is dumbed down, so to speak.

He then goes on to paint the picture of a fleet of ships sailing in formation. "The voyage will be a success," he adds, "if the ships do not collide...and secondly, if each ship is seaworthy and has her engines in good order." He points out that these two things necessarily go hand in hand. One cannot remain seaworthy if he keeps running into other ships, and if one's internal life is not working properly, he cannot avoid collisions.

He then notes a third part to this analogy, which is the idea that there is no fleet of ships without a destination and purpose. The fleet wouldn't be a fleet if they weren't all going in the same direction, so there must be a particular destination in mind as well as a Commander to direct the fleet and give the orders. If the fleet had no direction (and thus man has no purpose), then we are all scattered about with no particular place to go.

We don't even see that at the molecular level. An atom has purpose and order. Cells have information and direction. Body parts function under their own set of directions but for the exact same purpose: life. This is something we see at every level of science we have the capacity to study.

Morality, then, follows suit and is involved with three things: harmony between individuals, harmony within the individual, and the general purpose of human life (what man was made for).

Many people, Lewis goes on to point out, get hung up on the first thing (avoiding collisions with others) but neglect the other two. For example, when a man says about something he wants to do, "It can't be wrong because it doesn't do harm to anyone else," he is only thinking of the first thing. It doesn't matter to that man the condition of his personal integrity so long as no one else is hurt by his actions. But this, Lewis says, is a fallacy.

Jesus told the hyper-religious person to clean the inside of the cup first, and the outside would be clean also (see Matthew 23:26). Behavior doesn't dictate character; integrity does. Interestingly, it also dictates behavior.

One of my favorite applications of this that Lewis makes is when he says, "You cannot make men good by law: and without good men you cannot have a good society. That is why we must go on to think of the second thing: of morality inside the individual." Truth.

It seems like we could stop there. In fact, over what else could we have any control over our morality? But he does take it a step further, because our thinking about morality must also. The third consideration regarding human morality involves the general purpose of human life (the fleet of ships). Why would this matter in a morality argument?

Let's go back to the man who said that something isn't wrong if it doesn't hurt anyone else. This man believes that as long as he's not damaging other people, what he does to his own ship (personal integrity) is his own business. But doesn't it matter whether or not the ship is his own property or not?

A Naval Commander feels some ownership of his vessel in that he is responsible for its safety and its actions. But does it really belong to him? Of course not; he's a steward. Does this not make a difference? Aren't there certain duties that are required of the Commander simply because he is a steward of the ship that belongs to the Navy rather than it being his own personal cruiser?

This is what is wrong with the thinking in so much of America today. Our culture teaches that "good" really just means being good socially, but it neglects the idea that it involves the inside of the person and the purpose of the person. Seems to me this is a single-dimension view of morality, and it has created a single-dimension view of what is "good."

It's a view that is
Flat
Shallow
Superficial

Not to mention ineffective.

It creates a morally confused culture that is directionless, pointless, addled even. An aimless, purposeless culture raises children to grow up thinking the world revolves around them, and it owes them big-time because there is nothing to temper the worship of SELF. A single-dimension morality never leads a person to be "good" when no one is watching or to do "right" for the sake of doing what is right.

"Christianity asserts that every human being is going to live forever, and this must either be true or false," Lewis reminds us. If it is true, then there are some things that we had better take seriously that wouldn't be a concern if we were to only live seven decades and that's that. If it doesn't make sense to think that we're simply drifting purposelessly with no destination in view, then we should realize that we're a part of a greater plan, and to be a good steward, we need to do our part.

This includes much more than just steering clear of hurting anyone else. In order to effectively do that, it first necessitates living rightly within your own self. How do we understand what that looks like? By understanding who we are in the midst of a purpose outside of ourselves. This is what should drive the outside behaviors that avoid hurting others, not the other way around. Apart from purpose and integrity, we're just cleaning up the outside of the cup while the inside remains unclean, unhealthy, unproductive. 

"But seek first His kingdom {purpose} and His righteousness {integrity} and all these things will be given to you as well." Matthew 6:33.

Sore Loser: Hewlett Packard (HP)

An Open Letter to Hewlett Packard (HP) 

I have been buying HP printers for years. I have also been buying after-market ink cartridges for years. They work great, they are one-fourth the ridiculous cost of HP products, and the companies (the ones I’ve used) stand by their product.

A couple of weeks ago, my HP OfficeJet Pro 8610 with completely FULL ink cartridges (bought from HP competitors) suddenly quit working. My printer insisted that my cartridges had failed. Every single one of them. At the same time. 

This seemed pretty fishy to me, but I contacted the company from which I bought them a few months ago. They informed me that HP had discreetly updated certain printers (I never authorized this update) and the only purpose of this “update” was to render my after-market ink cartridges useless. Thanks for looking out for your customers, HP.

The ink company is sending me brand new cartridges that will work with this unnecessary update. They are choosing to show they WANT my business.

But now, we’ve been without a printer for almost two weeks. We have to run to the library with documents on a flash drive so my kids can print things for school. Yesterday, my high schooler accidentally put the wrong history document on the flash drive and didn’t realize he printed the incorrect one at the library until late last night. The assignment is due today. 

Too bad he couldn’t print the correct one after realizing his mistake, like normal families. Apparently, it’s more important that HP make their customers think their ink cartridges are a bad product so we’ll all bow down to a corporate giant and shell out $50 for ONE BLACK INK CARTRIDGE. 

One out of four necessary to the machine. That’s some profit margin, HP.

If you want my business for ink cartridges as well as the printer, then compete for it. Give me a reason to buy yours instead of after-market. But do NOT covertly tell my printer, that I paid my money for, to not use the carts I paid to put in there. That is not the way to earn business. That is manipulation and deception, and I can only hope that it will bite you in the rear. I also hope this letter will serve as an instrument to help it along.

I hope to see a public apology to the customers of HP for being sore losers in the ink cartridge industry. I will say that if this happens again, this is the very last HP printer I will ever own. And I’ll make sure every person I know is aware of the disturbing tactics of this company.

***UPDATE: HP has retracted its pervasive update and allowed my printer to work again with my cartridges. At least for now. They even (sort of) apologized for not communicating well (ya think?) The wording they used about how they were "protecting" me from "cloned" cartridges was absurd as an excuse for what they did, but the VERY positive side is they heard from enough customers (like me) who said "NO" to a corporate giant trying to squelch competition. Bravo, HP customers! 

An Open Letter

To the nice black man with the sweet little family in the grocery store parking lot today:

I just want you to know that I softly wept on the way home.

When I walked out to my car, you were helping your family get out of yours. You had parked just to the left of me, and as I approached my trunk with my groceries, I was smiling when I saw you.

I saw what you did next.

You had already started to turn to help your young son, but then you stopped, changed direction, and intentionally set your attention squarely on me. You met my smile with your own and then a kind, "Hey! How you doin'?"

This really is a fairly common exchange between decent people. But for some reason, the obnoxious touts of racism that are thrust on decent people via the media these days have really been very suffocating.

Now, I'll be the first to admit that racism is still alive and well in the hearts of some people in this country - and that's true on both sides.  But the level to which the problem is elevated for political and propaganda purposes is about as nauseating as it gets. Half the time people are afraid to even use the COLORS black or white (as in fabric or paint) for fear of offending someone.

Now, Sir, I would not say that I have ever actually believed what I'm about to say. I've known many people, black and white, who absolutely do not fit this. But I will admit that there are times when I wonder...times when I've listened too much to the perpetual droning on about how much hate is on both sides. There have been times when I've wondered if every black person that sees me despises me because of my skin color. I've wondered, "What do they think of me? Do they think I hate them because of their skin?" Do you think those thoughts, too?

You know, when you're told "they hate you" enough, you start to wonder.

And then I see someone like you. Someone who went out of his way to greet another person just as an equal, as a fellow human being. Because we are exactly that.

And then I realize that the propaganda machine has succeeded only in making stories that are so sparse and infrequent into these major headlines to get us to click on that link. And if we're not careful, we believe the problem is bigger than it really is.

Again, not saying there aren't changes that should be made. But I think most of the problems are with the political and propaganda engines more than within the hearts of most people.

Thank you, Sir, for reminding me of that.

My encounter with you and your family today was like a cool drink of water to me.

Cleansing. Healing. Refreshing.

Bird's-Eye View

I've been watching  a neighbor's tree all winter long.

It's not incredibly large, but when it fills out in the late Spring, its leaves are a brilliant, glowing red from which I cannot look away. Throughout the winter months, I snag a glance at this tree every time I drive by, hoping to see the red buds sprouting from the tips of the seemingly dead branches. I love this tree. If I drive by at a certain time of the late afternoon, I find myself hoping that the sun will hit it from behind and ignite the fire of color.

Note: this isn't the tree I'm watching, but it looks like this one. I wanted to avoid having to explain to a police officer that I really wasn't being a creep by photographing my neighbor's house.

Living in North Georgia, I have really begun to appreciate having four distinct seasons. I marvelled at them at first, since I really had only known two seasons in South Texas: hot and hotter. We moved here at the end of October almost 14 years ago, and the leaves were changing, the air was crisp, and it lasted for months!

Then was ushered in the longest, coldest, iciest winter I had ever experienced. I was used to two-week-long cold fronts that, although cold because of the wind coming off the Gulf of Mexico and usually rainy, which made for a more complete misery, their short duration made them bearable. Then we would have relief, get close to 80, thaw out, and maybe do it again. I even have memories of a balmy 85 degree Christmas Day in shorts!

But this particular winter, I remember marking two whole weeks where we didn't get above 32 degrees, day or night. When our thermometer read -3 degrees early one dark morning, I knew the DH had moved me to Alaska by mistake.

And now, after having gone several months of cold, mostly gray winter, I begin to notice yellow sunshine pouring through the woods at certain times of the day. Daffodils and irises have begun to make their grand entries into the landscape, and the birds have begun chirping again...it is Spring!  I notice the contrast of the white dogwoods against the darkness of the surrounding pines. The dogwoods have been there all along, but they seem to have just appeared overnight, like a maiden in a fairy tale's forest, weaving through the towering timber.

Spring is upon us - promising warmth, longer days, and new life at every turn.

I once again find myself in a Spring season of my life right now...things are changing, some more drastically than others. My little boys are becoming young men right before my eyes. It is a mystery to me how something can be so welcomed and so terrifying at the exact same time. How does one reconcile this?

There was a Spring season when I had nothing but diapered babies and preschoolers in my care. Everything about all the life was new to me then. Burp cloths and sippy cups and pacis, oh my! Parenting was as much learning as it was doing. Everything from figuring out what to do when they got sick to how to help them sleep to when and how to discipline took a learning curve. I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world, but there was definitely a newness to life that was both exhilarating and exhausting.

It was then a summer season of life when I had all elementary-aged kids to teach and love on. Life was slower, more intentional. The days were long, but it was much easier than when they were younger. They were filling out - developing their skills, their minds, as well as their physique. Instead of diapers and nurseries, it was baseball fields and crawdads in the creek. Discipline was all about consistency rather than finding what works. They understood what was expected by then, and that made all the difference.

Then we moved into a winter of teenage boys. This wasn't as difficult as I had previously feared it might be (thankful to a merciful God in heaven above for that!) but it was a phase I was ready to move through quickly. Hormones are difficult for females (this I knew all too well), but it's just as hard for boys - just in different ways. We were managing aggression rather than drama.

But now, I feel like we have seen the next season begin to emerge from its cocoon.

After this school year is over, I will no longer have an elementary student in my home. They will all be college, high school, and middle school. So bizarre. I can remember feeling so numb at the thought of having one child (excuse me - "student") at the middle school building at our church. This fall, we will not have any at the elementary building at all.

My spiritual life has followed much the same pattern, actually. There was a Spring of new ministry and exploring new and uncharted spiritual lands. Then a summer when much development and rapid growth took place in so many ways. Oh, how I look back on those years with the deepest fondness and gratitude. The last several years have been a fall and winter time for me spiritually. Not that I haven't grown at all or that I've been in the dark the entire time, but the lessons I've learned there were harder. Many of the difficult things I learned of but felt completely unable to do anything about. I felt dormant. These were lessons of waiting. How I have longed to move out of them...into the bright sunshine and fresh, warm air.

Now, I feel I am entering a new spiritual Springtime. My eyes have been opened to a daily, consistent, and impactful ministry that I can do from home that hits every single area of hurt in which I had been broken in the winter. This endeavor is called Trades of Hope. The excitement and anticipation of what God will do with this effort has me on the edge of my seat right now! Newness of life after a somewhat darker spell of longing for it.

The other day, we had our first feels-like-Spring day. On my way home, I noticed a bird on a wire overhead. The image of a bird on a wire has always spoken to something deep inside me, but I never could put my finger on why...until that day. Others might have a different interpretation of the idea, but here's what I discovered it means to me.

The wire is a place of rest. The bird needs neither shelter from inclement weather nor a tree for a nest. It's not caged, it's just enjoying a place of peaceful repose. She feels safe there and catches her breath.

When I get to write, it's the wire for me. I'm passing through; I have places to go and things to do, but I just get to perch here for a bit, enjoy the bird's-eye view, notice things that I otherwise would fly over, and I get to rest. I can even now picture myself on that wire...warm breeze, clear sounds, motions are all beneath me, nothing close. Wide-open view.

I've enjoyed taking a few moments to notice this bird's-eye view of my life. It causes me to appreciate where I've been and where I'm headed. Thanks for taking a rest with me. Time to fly.

Trades of Hope

For much of my adult life, God has afforded me a love of words and a strong desire to communicate particularly through the written word. Sometimes He blesses me with the spoken word too, but those allowances seem to require special occasions. Nevertheless, God has given me a voice, and I have wanted to use it for a long time - I just didn't know how. Or for whom.

About four years ago, God opened my eyes to the issues of human trafficking in this country. I was appalled to learn that the city of Atlanta had become the national hub for child exploitation because we have the busiest international airport in the country. I learned alarming statistics to which I had been previously oblivious, but they shattered my heart into a million pieces. I shared with our Sunday School class at the time in an effort to make others aware, and then wrote this piece to share with my facebook friends.

Since then, a cloak has been pulled back which has revealed the severity of worldwide slavery of all kinds. Bonded slavery. Child slavery. Forced labor. Trafficking. Domestic servitude. It really is overwhelming.

Additionally, my heart has been massaged to the point of bruising over orphans all over the world...in Russia, Ukraine, Haiti, and Africa. Many times (more than I ever imagined before) orphans are made not because both parents die, but because neither parent can feed their children. So they are forced to give them up for their children's survival. Imagine how difficult that would be to love your child, but know if you raise her yourself, she will starve to death.

"Pure and undefiled religion before our God and Father is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself unstained by the world." James 1:27

So I was always left with the same thing I imagine a lot of people feel...what can I do about it?

In my quiet times with the Lord, I have been asking Him for a while to open my eyes now to what He wants me to do with this information. Surely He was not breaking my heart without reason. What was a homeschool stay-at-home mom (with kids still at home) supposed to do to end slavery and worldwide poverty?

Turns out He did have something in mind. Go figure.

Trades of Hope is an organization that was started in Florida about five years ago by two friends and their grown daughters. It is a missional company, meaning they are a for-profit company with a mission-minded heart. The founders' philosophy is that a sustainable business is a better long-term solution over charity. It's the "give a man a fish, feed him for a day; teach him how to fish, feed him for a lifetime" mentality. I happen to agree with that.

What this company has done is to make connections with multiple ministries that are already in place in 16 different countries around the world. These ministries are on-the-ground, full-time organizations that are committed to Fair Trade principles. Depending on the need in that particular area, they provide skills-training for a livelihood for women (and some men) who would otherwise be in the pit of extreme poverty and all the living hells that can come along with that. Many of these organizations also provide for education for the artisans' children, medical supplies, etc.


Fair trade organizations work to:

- pay a fair wage in the local context
- support safe, healthy, participatory workplaces
- provide 50% pre-payment for orders placed
- build long-term relationships
- provide ongoing education and training
- ensure environmental sustainability
- provide equal opportunities for all people, particularly the most 
  disadvantaged
- respect cultural identity
- build long-term, direct relationships

Trades of Hope has come alongside these organizations and provided a market for the artisans' handmade items. In a country like Haiti, with 90% unemployment, there are not many people able to buy a beautifully made beaded necklace or bracelet like this one:

See the painted, smooth beads? Those are made from the clay dirt in the Haitian mountains. This same clay is made into cookies and baked in the sun to feed their children when there is no real food to give them. The striped-looking beads? Those are recycled cereal boxes cut into strips with a paper cutter. Then they roll them up into beads, some are painted, glued, baked, and strung into beautiful jewelry.

Because of the devastating economic situation in Haiti, you can imagine there aren't many buyers for these beauties. So Trades of Hope came along and said, we'll order several thousand of those; here's half the money up front so your artisans can get their supplies. When the order is fulfilled, we'll pay the other half and have them shipped to the United States, where women buy jewelry EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. without even thinking twice about it.

Now, this kind of order is placed every single month because people in the United States are buying the product!

The lady that started this particular ministry I just described started out with just four women building beads and necklaces. Today, she has over 300 employees in Haiti, mostly women who were determined to keep their own children rather than handing them over to an orphanage. I heard her tell the story of one woman who followed her daily for weeks asking for a job because she didn't want to give up her daughter. There wasn't a place for her for a while, but eventually, Shelly was able to hire her! Trades of Hope and those selling and buying these gorgeous pieces of workmanship helped her business grow. And lives have been changed forever.

Have you ever thought about why some of the jewelry we buy is so cheap? I'm not talking about the gold and diamonds we buy; I'm talking about the everyday jewelry we get at the mall or a department store. It's because many of these things are made in countries and through businesses that employ sweatshops. You would be surprised if you did a search of all the companies and countries who use them. A sweatshop is defined as a factory that pays woefully low wages (think $2 per day), requires their employees to work ridiculous hours (I read about one sweatshop that allowed the women to leave every two days to spend a day at home) and provides unsafe work conditions.

Using companies that are committed to Fair Trade avoids perpetuating these issues and instead supports a living wage, hope for a future, and dignity for women who would otherwise never experience these things.

Trades of Hope helps to employ over 6,000 artisans in 16 different countries. Talk about making an impact!

By golly, I think this is something I can do that will actually, physically, monetarily, and spiritually attack these problems at their root. I can do something, by selling these products for her, that will afford her the opportunity to thrive rather than just try to survive.

I'm all about that.

If you are too, or just want more information, you can visit my website, read about the artisans, drool over their beautiful creations, and purchase them for yourself.

Talk about a win-win! You get to wear beautiful things, and she gets a fair wage she and her family can live on. Together, we can use our voice to speak for her. For all of them.

Peace on Earth

It's early in the morning. The lights are glowing on the tree and on the fireplace mantle, a warm and tender reminder of Christmases past. It's quiet in the house now as my three not-so-small boys are still in their slumber. It's Christmas time, a time for joy and peace on earth. I'm attempting to capture the sugar plum fairies dancing around in my head...because something seems a little "off" this year.

Every year is a struggle to scrape and dig past the commercialism and consumerism that has become synonymous with the Christmas season. Somewhere between the green and red plastic trees and the "Santa, Baby" songs is a point. A very fine point that the vast majority misses. Every. Single. Year.

We tend to miss it because it is easy to miss. 

There is nothing in Scripture that commands we honor this Holy Night. There is no instruction to follow that even suggests it. A Christian will truly celebrate Christmas out of the overflow of the heart...out of the love that pours from a swell of the heart that was born in a stable 2,000 years ago. 

But somehow the truth of this story has been buried beneath a mountain of boxes covered in pretty paper and debt to the ceiling. Even Hallmark movies tell us we want Christmas to be about the heart and relationship, but we have to dig it out of the pile first.

This has been an ongoing issue for the believer in this country for decades. But recently, there has been another darker, more suffocating cloud hovering over this time of year. We seek joy and peace on earth, yet we are bombarded by the media of our day. We are immediately made aware of instances of adversity, hostility, lunacy, political failures, et cetera ad nauseam. Rarely do we see thrust before us for our viewing pleasure the soup kitchens serving Christmas dinner to the homeless, families by the hundreds supplying coats, boots, blankets, diapers, and toys for those who have nothing, or food pantries doling out canned goods to those fallen on hard times. Stories of prisoners kneeling by their bedside holding a Bible and a sliver of hope for redemption seldom make the cut for our news sources. These things happen all the time, but their stories are scarce compared to the shocking tales that "sell". We are inundated with the negative and anemic when it comes to anything positive.

There is a song that was released several years ago by Casting Crowns (one of my most favorite groups) and the song is entitled "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day." It speaks to the dissonance we experience this time of year in a way that for years now has deeply stirred my heart. If we don't quiet our souls from the noise of our consumerism, we'll never hear the bells.

I heard the bells on Christmas day
Their old familiar carols play
And mild and sweet, their songs repeat
Of peace on earth good will to men

And the bells are ringing (Peace on Earth)
Like a choir they're singing (Peace on Earth)
In my heart I hear them
Peace on earth, good will to men

The author is recounting the surface sights and sounds of the season. It looks good and sounds good - we enjoy the decorations and Christmas carols during the last weeks of the year (or most of us do). But in the next verse, we see his conflict - one that, if we will look introspectively, we can all identify with:

And in despair, I bowed my head
"There is no peace on earth," I said.
For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men

But the bells are ringing (Peace on Earth)
Like a choir singing (Peace on Earth)
Does anybody hear them?
Peace on earth, good will to men

If anything, peace on earth is a treasured, but terribly deficient thing. A cursory glance at the Middle East (particularly in and around Israel) and north Africa, as well as cities like Paris, Chattanooga, Colorado Springs, and San Bernardino will bring home the point. A skim of any major news outlet's headlines will help to solidify the point: men bring almost anything but peace to earth.

Then rang the bells more loud and deep
God is not dead, nor doth He sleep
(Peace on Earth, peace on Earth)
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail
With peace on earth, good will to men

Peace on earth is not meant to be brought by mere men. We are incapable. Peace on earth and good will toward men...comes from above. Good will toward men is initiated by God in heaven and exemplified by a Baby born from heaven. Peace personified has walked on the earth, and it currently resides in the hearts of those who bend the knee and bow their hearts to the King of kings born humbly in a manger.

Then ringing, singing on its way
The world revolved from night to day
A voice, a chime, a chant sublime
Peace on earth, good will to men

And the bells they're ringing (Peace on Earth)
Like a choir they're singing (Peace on Earth)
And with our hearts we'll hear them
Peace on earth, good will to men

The bells of Christmas are singing that Peace on earth has indeed come, and until He comes again, we'll hear it only in our hearts. But this also has the desired result for the individual who opens their heart to the song: good will toward his fellow men.

Do you hear the bells they're ringing? (Peace on Earth)
The life the angels singing (Peace on Earth)
Open up your heart and hear them (Peace on Earth)
Peace on earth, good will to men

Pearl of Great Price

A diver descends into the depths and retrieves an ordinary oyster shell.

Kind of drab, really. Earthy colors, no distinct shape, and no particular abilities. It's just a shell. It does have a purpose, though. Its job is to house and protect the vulnerable and tender inside.

Oyster shells are somewhat like people in this respect. They have a hard, nondescript outside, but a soft, delicate inside. Even the Son of God fit this description in human form.

"He didn’t have an impressive form or majesty that we should look at Him, no appearance that we should desire Him." Isaiah 53:2

There is a soft parallel between the oyster and man. An oyster is made of two parts: the inner and the outer. The outer shell is the only part that is ever visibly seen...that is until the death of the organism inside. The tender, inner soft part of the body is likened to our spirit, kept hidden until the breaking of the body.

When a pearl oyster is opened, the organism inside dies, and most likely, a valuable gift is left behind. 

It's important to note that not all oysters make pearls...only the true pearl oysters (genus Pinctada) make them. But how does this happen? 

When a foreign object becomes embedded inside the oyster, the mantle inside secretes nacre, also known as mother-of-pearl, to isolate the irritant. 

Let me say that again: Something that doesn't belong there gets inside the outer shell. As a way to defend the innermost part of the mollusk, the mantle releases a protective material which, in effect, quarantines the invader inside the nacre. The end result of this process is known as a radiant pearl.

It's funny to me, to see myself in this oyster.

Sin invaded the human heart in the Garden of Eden. It's been there since the beginning. That irritant was present in my heart from the time I was born. From the time I became old enough to realize it was there, it was a constant irritant to me. I realized it was there, but I was powerless to do anything about it. 

Then I was reborn. Remade, if you will, into a new creature. And my inmost part became the dwelling place of the Holy Spirit. He was then able to apply the loveliest substance to isolate the irritant in my soul - His very own Holy Blood. 

In that single transaction, I was instantly relieved of the unwanted pollution in my soul. Relieved, but not yet free of it. It is still very much there, but it is covered. One cannot adequately express the tremendous difference that is felt in that relief. But oh, how I long to be free of it...and one day lay it at the feet of my King.

Rev. 21:21 describes the Gates of the New Jerusalem (in the future) as each set with a giant pearl. I don't mean to say there is a giant pearl set inside each gate. Oh no. I mean each of the gates are giant and are made from one solid pearl! 

"The twelve gates were twelve pearls, each gate made of a single pearl. The great street of the city was of gold, as pure as transparent glass." Rev. 21:21

The picture here is that entryway into the City of God...is through these trials, this covering of sin.

That pearl that is safely kept in my innermost being is ultimately a benefit to me that came from something painful. It is beauty from ashes. And one day, one glorious day, when this body is mortally broken, there will be a rare gift left behind. One with an indescribably soft inner glow that shines brightest in the Light of the Son.


Lord, I need help remembering that nothing in my life is wasted.

Not. One. Thing.

You are Lord of all. May it serve to glorify You and make me holy, like You.

Storms of Pomp and Circumstance

2015.

We are already a full month into it. So many feelings about heading into this new year.

My time on blogger used to include the liveliness of multiple conversations with blogging friends all over the world who had either gone through or were going through some of the same stages of life. Since most of us have resorted to Facebook for maintaining our interactions, blogger is now morphing into a sort of canvas of words for me. Someplace to not necessarily share with someone as much as for someone. Namely, me.

So I suppose I can use this platform to set out and sort out some of the thoughts, struggles, and sentiments I have going on inside without concern for whether it's something someone else would want to read.

And that's a little freeing for me right now.

This year is bringing so many changes for us, for me, that I almost can't fathom it.

I see these changes staring me in the face, much like a dark, impending storm on the horizon. It's still sunny where I am, but the darkness is coming. I can feel the cool wind of change blowing my hair out of my eyes and causing me to sigh deeply.

The feelings I get from gazing into a storm like that are very similar to what is going on inside me now.

Generally, I love storms. When we lived in Texas, it was impossible to miss the inky thunderhead approaching. You could hear the faint sound of thunder rolling across the sky, a subtle but distinct rumble that causes nervous kids to think of celestial bowling. The peculiar color of the clouds would excite the eyes as you instinctively sensed the energy behind it. These disturbances come upon us much more as a surprise here in Georgia, as they hide themselves behind the hills and trees until they are overhead.

But growing up, you could see it coming. From a level horizon, you could smell it, sense it in the air while it was still miles away. You could see the monstrosity of it before the danger was really present. And it was thrilling.

That's where I am at the beginning of February of this year.

Most of my impending storm is centered around my oldest child. I hesitate to say child because he will be 18 on his birthday this year.

Future me: go back and read that last sentence again.

The boy will be able to vote this year.

He'll be a senior this year.

Lord willing, he'll be taking some of his classes at the local college this year to go toward his high school diploma plus college credit. Not to mention driving himself to said classes a few times per week.

Now, I realize that there are millions who graduate each year in the U.S., and there are mommas with each of them going through the same feelings. But hear me out.

I recall sitting at our school table in his first grade year, with his baby brother playing at my feet. I still see his little face focused on the coloring page before him, going through blend letter flashcards, and singing "Old McDonald" with vowel sounds. I treasure the first time he read a full story to me all by himself. I remember he would do his "seat work" with one foot on top of mine, as if to say, "Don't leave, momma. I need you here."

I think about third grade, when he worked so hard to memorize his multiplication tables before the end of the school year, and then promptly forgot 80% of them over the summer. We never took another full summer off after that. It was Christmas before he had them down again.

I snicker thinking about the poem he wrote for language arts when he was in the fifth grade. Despite his age, he still hasn't let go of his Star Wars fixation. He's only added Doctor Who and Minecraft to it. And guitar and photography. *sigh*

He's not a kid anymore. Sure, he's still my kid, as he'll always be. But he's almost a grown kid. And he's my first one. I'm just trying to process all the changes coming ahead.

We've got SATs, graduation, and college applications looming. We'll be finding a photographer and a professional printer this year for invitations and parties. Soon afterward, we'll participate in a meaningful graduation ceremony at our co-op with speakers and cake and punch, with a table decorated just for him for his friends and family to congratulate him and hug his momma.

cool wind, smell of rain

My involvement in his education has abated over his high school years, but after next year, I will have no place in his education. None. No input in his curricula, no choices in literature, no knowledge of his discussions in classes. Aside from asking how he's doing and seeing grades at the end of each semester, I will be completely severed from his education.

cold sprinkles on my face, thunder rolls

Grappling with purchasing the best language arts curriculum or whether or not we should change math strategies seem so ridiculously shallow to me now in light of this encroaching tempest. But I suppose that in a few more years, even my now unsettled heart will seem minuscule. Compared to, you know, wedding invitations and rehearsal dinner.

Mercy.

Here's what I know about storms: they are indeed ominous when they are approaching, and they can in fact be very dangerous. As if that weren't enough, it is impossible to see beyond or around them until they pass. One never knows what her world will look like beyond the storm.

But with their demonstration of power and might, I know the storms are necessary. They are beneficial. And they will pass. And after the dazzling display of waltzing clouds, electric flashes, and thunderous applause, the sun will shine again and the fields will dry, and there will be peace both within the storm and after it.

Lord, help me to not forget that You are with me. You see what's in my heart, You know what's on my mind, and You care. Infinitely. 

Looking Back - Discerning the Future

I love looking back in history. I love to allow my mind to imagine what other times were like for those who lived them. People have always been just people.

But every era, every generation has its own experience - its own rhythm, style, and ambiance. When I was growing up in the 1970s and 1980s, it seemed difficult to understand how society could become any more advanced. We had already been to the moon, created realistic-looking movies and television (have you seen an 80s movie lately?), utilized cordless phones, developed computers that would fit on a desk instead of taking up an entire room, experimented with virtual reality, and witnessed the birth of the immortal Mac/PC war.

How could it get any better?

But it has. We have the technology now at the beginning of my fourth decade of life that would have left me speechless in my second decade. Phones aren't just phones anymore; they function as cameras, computers, and televisions. They send email, text messages, and Facebook statuses in addition to making (gasp!) old-fashioned phone calls. Our cars are now equipped with touch screens, talking GPS, satellite radio, gyroscopic cup holders and Onstar connection in case of an emergency. Our television sets can surf the Internet, stream movies, and rewind live broadcasts! In the age of VCRs, walkmans, and the Atari Video Game System, who would have thought?

Many of these things are such a great help to both society and individuals alike. Our new gizmos save us time and effort in getting through our daily checklists. The internet has allowed business sales and networking to skyrocket exponentially. People have more opportunities to work from home now. And who could discount the entertainment industry? Movies and games and music, oh my! All at our capable fingertips.

Of course, few would argue with the fact that technological advancement is certainly a double-edged sword. I won't even go into the dangers of the lurking pornographic industry available on the internet or the sale of humans into slavery utilizing the web's runways. This isn't the fault of the internet; it's the abuse of the internet. But that's a whole 'nuther post.

For now, let's just look at what technology has done to change our daily lives. Since we have so many gadgets to help us more efficiently tackle the tasks of the day, look at all the time we've saved! We have more time for other things now: dinner around the table every night, a spontaneous mid-afternoon visit with the neighbor, plenty of rest at night and...wait, what?

The CDC (Center for Disease Control) reports that "Insufficient Sleep Is a Public Health Epidemic" in this country. While there is a myriad of reasons for this, our efficiency with our technology is apparently not helping in this area. Forbes reports that 1 in 2 Americans don't know their neighbors' names. Half? Wow. It seems we also don't have time for one another these days.

I was pleasantly surprised when I looked up the frequency that families are eating dinner together recently. It seems some recent studies say that up to 75% of American families say they eat dinner together at least 5 nights a week. That's much higher than I expected to find! But when we examine what many of those families are eating together, it causes me to pause.

I won't get into a rant on processed foods here. Believe me, I could. But hear me out...if we have so many conveniences and time-savers, why do we (as a society) depend so heavily on pre-packaged processed foods? According to the Pew Research Center, 72% of Americans eat fast food at least once per week. Granted, some of these people choose to enjoy eating out, but I wonder how many do this for time's sake?

Now I realize there are other factors involved; the economy is one. Many families cannot think of life with only one income for various reasons. I know some families simply must have two incomes to survive, but I wonder how many of those reasons can be attributed to the need to pay for our more elaborate toys and material possessions?

Materialism is truly an unseen epidemic in this country.

And I'll just leave that there.

But here's the bottom line on our gadgets: I don't think we ought to rid ourselves of technology, but we should think more closely about how and why we use it. And how far we'll pursue to get it.

I was reading an article on Psychology Today website regarding the reasons and effects of materialism in our culture. Care to know this professional's solution to our materialism epidemic?

Gratitude.

The website defines gratitude as "an emotion expressing appreciation for  what one has—as opposed to a consumer-oriented emphasis on what one wants or needs." 

And it offers this for guidance: 

"Studies show that we can deliberately cultivate gratitude, and can increase our well-being and happiness by doing so. In addition, grateful thinking—and especially expression of it to others—is associated with increased levels of energy, optimism, and empathy."

I have a challenge for you (and me) for this new year. Why not make it a point, that for every negative thought or murmur that comes from our lips, we deliberately speak of something for which we can be grateful. 

"I really hate going into Walmart." (true story)

"BUT, it's close to the house and I'm saving a little money." Out loud.

Every. Single. Time.

"I cannot BELIEVE all this traffic!"

"However, I am still on the road, as opposed to the side of it either in a wreck or getting a ticket."

And what if we created a habit of this?

I'm game if you are. I think my boys will benefit from it too...especially when I keep the thought in, and instead let the gratitude pour from my mouth. 

I Met an Old Friend Today

Over my birthday weekend, I spent part of a day perusing the first book that established my “old books” collection. The title of that special book is The Journal of John Woolman, with an Introduction by John G. Whittier published in 1871. 

John Woolman was a Quaker that lived from 1720 to 1772. He was born in Northampton, New Jersey, on October 19 of 1720. He discovered a love for God's Word so early in life that he recollects sitting beneath a tree after school as a young lad to devour the final chapter of Revelation, capturing a glimpse of heaven. I know Christian adults today who say they can't handle that book. In his adult years, he was known for two main things: his tenderness toward all people, all life; and his actions in exposing and subduing the evils of slavery. Emancipation for the slaves would not come for almost another 100 years, but his writings, including his Journal, his lectures, and even his business practices spoke loudly and effectively. He and another minister travelled in the North American colonies preaching and teaching, and everywhere he stayed, he would get to know the slave owners and discuss the moral issues with owning human life. More often than not he was persuasive enough that the slave owners would free their slaves! The Journal of John Woolman was a primary source of inspiration for rising abolitionists, which of course ultimately lead to full emancipation. Further reading tells me he was also an advocate for the Native American as well.

One Saturday, DH and I decided to go for a drive up in the mountains. We came across a little town in North Georgia called Talking Rock that has little more than a short strip of antique stores across from an old train station. In one of those quaint little shops, I picked up a small, plain-looking book with the name John Woolman on the front. I noticed it, put it down, and moved on. A few minutes later, it was as if that book was whispering my name, so I found it in my hands once again. 

When I first saw it in the antique store, I had no idea of its literary value; I had never heard of John Woolman. I had no idea it was listed as one of Charles Eliot's choices of literature which belong on the infamous five-foot shelf of a liberal education, later to become the Harvard Classics. What made me fall in love with the book other than my initial interest in its antiquity was this: I noticed as I flipped through the pages that I saw the beautiful Name of Jesus Christ on literally every single page I saw. The Lord of Heaven was so much an integral part of this man's life that His Divine Presence permeated his life's record. Oh, to have Him so pervade my life that way! 

However, in a true lapse of judgement, I left the book on the table on which I found it. And I left. I really couldn't tell you why; it was just $10. I suppose I tend to use "need" versus "want" as a decision-maker when it comes to spending money, and it wasn't a "need." Or so I thought.

The next week was Vacation Bible School at our church, and I was helping in one of the rooms full of kids. The other teacher in there, Lisa, and I got to know each other that week, and we began talking one day about something that reminded me about that book. So I told her about it. And by the end of that morning, I had decided that I would gather up my kiddos and head back up to Talking Rock to get that book!

And that's exactly what we did. All the way back to that remote little town, I prayed that it would still be on the top of the stack. Anyone who thought that highly and lived so close to the Lord's presence, I wanted to get to know - even if he did live 250 years before me!

I was elated with my purchase. The smell of the old pages captivated me, and the few underlinings with a dip pen transfixed me. Whoever made those underlinings throughout the book was left-handed, like me. 

In the front is this inscription: “Charles E. Shepard, Fond du Lac, 1873.” 

Today I got curious, so I got my Sherlock on.

Because if you didn't already know, Google is a very powerful thing. 

I discovered one Charles E. Shepard who lived in Fond du Lac, Wisconsin, in 1873. Who knew there was such a French influence there? Turns out some of the same Frenchmen who claimed much of the extreme north of North America also settled in Wisconsin. Anyway, Mr. Shepard was a lawyer there for a time.

I found a scanned copy of the History of Seattle from the Earliest Settlement to the Present Time, written by Clarence Bagley in 1916. On page 587, I found that Charles' mother, Catherine Colman Shepard, was the granddaughter of Nathaniel Rochester, the namesake for Rochester, New York. Charles E. Shepard was born to Catherine and her husband (Charles E. Shepard, Sr.) in 1848.

Shepard Jr. attended the Dansville Seminary and Canadaigua Academy, followed by Yale University. He relocated to Fond du Lac, Wisconsin, in November of 1872, the year before dating my book. While he lived there, he joined a law firm with his brother and another attorney. During that time, he also served as the library commissioner (he loved books, too!) and was elected to serve on the state legislature for a two-year term. Charles married Alice Galloway in 1881, and two years later they moved to Milwaukee where he continued to practice law until 1891, when ill health caused him to seek out a different climate.

Shepard then moved to Seattle, where he soon recovered from his illness. He was very active for many years in Seattle, but I think it's interesting to point out that he was a candidate for supreme court judge in 1910, and although he was defeated by the incumbent, ran a very good race.

At some point, the Shepards moved to Spokane, Washington, where he died on March 31, 1928, at a well-seasoned 80 years old.

This is the man who wrote his name in MY book, y'all. He was 25 years old one hundred years before I was born.

I've had this copy of Woolman's Journal in my collection for over a decade, and I have studied the handwriting on the first page many times. I wondered who he was, where did he live, and what kind of man was he?

Even though it sounds contradictory, thanks to Google, I feel like I met for the first time an old friend today. Very pleased to get to meet you, Mr. Shepard. I will treasure your tiny book all my days.

Value of Life

Notes on Apologetics study from On Guard by William Lane Craig, Chapter Two, Part Three

(*Use the "On Guard" category to the right to see all posts related to this book*)

Recap: Chapter Two of Craig's book is entitled "What Difference Does It Make If God Exists?" In this chapter, Craig asserts the logical conclusions that follow if God does not exist. Based on what we know about energy and the nature of the universe, and since all life had a beginning, it is inevitable that all life will eventually cease. If all is doomed and there is no life beyond death, then ultimately, life has no meaning, value or purpose. All things done (good or bad) will ultimately become nonexistent. Here is a link to a rather helpful article regarding the first and second laws of thermodynamics and the impending "heat death" of the universe.

In my last post on this chapter, we looked at the meaning of life in this regard. If everything in the universe is to ultimately meet its utter end, then life itself is objectively absurd, and thus has no objective meaning. This creates a problem for the atheist because he can live neither happily nor consistently under this axiom. Just because a person ascribes his or her own meaning to life doesn't make it true.

If you ascribe a certain meaning to the universe and I supply a different meaning, which meaning is correct? Remember we are talking about objective truth, not subjective truth. This is a "what is two plus two" question as opposed to a "what is the best flavored ice cream" question. One is true in reality (applies to all people), the other is a personal opinion (a personal truth). So if you and I each ascribe a different objective meaning to life, which one is actually correct? To the atheist, the answer of course is neither; the universe without God is objectively meaningless for there is no one outside the universe to impute that meaning.

This brings us to the next section of the chapter dealing with the value of life. In a previous post, I shared with you that Craig defines the value of life as having to do with good and evil, right and wrong. The value of life refers to our moral ethics...how do we know what is right and wrong, and how should we behave because of that knowledge?

"If there is no God, then objective right and wrong do not exist. As Dostoyevsky said, 'All things are permitted.' But man cannot live this way. So he makes a leap of faith and affirms values anyway. And when he does so, he reveals the inadequacy of a world without God." (pg. 42)

Under this banner of "all things are permitted," we are subject to all kinds of living hell. Rape is no longer a violation; child molestation is nothing but a fetish, a preference. The most heinous murder is in reality just as morally justified as paying it forward in the drive thru. Sound ridiculous? But if there is no God, then there is no one to define ethical absolutes. All things become subjective. Nothing is right. Nothing is wrong.

The problem comes when we must admit that there are certain things that seem "right" to us. Craig uses several examples to show this, and one of those is modern atheist Richard Dawkins. "For although he says that there is no evil, no good, nothing but pitiless indifference, he is an unabashed moralist." (pg. 43) He condemns all manner of offenses against homosexuals, indoctrination of children, etcetera ad nauseam, but is apparently blind to his own inconsistency of ethical relativism which says that there can be no absolute right or wrong.

Just as in the meaning of life, I can say what is "right" for me, and you can say what is "right" for you, but that doesn't make it intrinsically right or wrong. If it did, we could easily justify the brutal rape as a moment of intense passion and wanton desire. Child prostitution could be argued to be as innocent as teaching grooming or good table manners. Thievery is not "wrong" but simply a symptom of need. All things are permitted.

Most atheists can not and do not live under such pretenses. They still see some things as intrinsically good and evil, but do not want to admit that someone must be the definer of such concepts. We have already established that man cannot adequately be that definer - that leads to "might makes right." Who else but God?

Discussion question: Imagine a world where everyone believed that moral values and duties aren't real, but are just subjective illusions. How would it affect our legal and justice systems? Countries involved in warfare? Our social relationships? World business and commerce?

Without moral objectivity, the laws which govern our legal and justice systems would need to be constantly evolving and morphing as the culture moves through moral relativism. I believe this is the single most often used tool in the arsenal of the social liberal. It's the reason we take so many polls, surveys, and social media quizzes. This is how we (as a society) tend to find out what is "morally right" on many issues.

Apart from a God who provides moral objectivity, we are left to decipher for ourselves what is right and wrong. So if society says that homosexuality (social relationships) is acceptable, then under this banner of subjectivism, laws should be changed to reflect that. If enough gather together to say that perverted relationships with young children are acceptable, then it's time for the laws to change again. Should society (even a relatively small portion of it) decide that our government should be trusted enough to provide for our every need - even in exchange for personal freedoms - then the very foundation upon which this country was built would be ripped from its place in society and be replaced with whatever our culture has bought next. That's a very unsettling thought to me, but I fear it's where we're headed.

Countries involved in warfare would be governed by the same "might makes right" mantra, which always leads to the oppression of those who are not in charge. In thinking about the Middle East region and the war over land in Israel, my mind immediately is drawn to Israel's determination to strategically target the known safe havens of the enemy only after they can confirm there are no civilians in the area. Their respect of life is owed to their respect for God. If they were to operate under "might makes right," then they would behave more like their enemy...who seeks out death.



Next time: Purpose of Life