I place before you here a short discussion by childrens author N.D. Wilson and his father, (author, pastor) Doug Wilson, on a subject close to my heart. Is it appropriate for Christians to appreciate the use of magic in stories? Yes, if you want to read the Bible. But not so fast, what about the idea of authority? Some useful, worthwhile thoughts.

Ask Doug – Magic in Literature from Daniel Foucachon on Vimeo.

Here’s the video for those on Facebook if it doesn’t show up.

It is no secret to people close to me (like my wife, brothers, and football legend Pat White) that my favorite book of the Bible is Ecclesiastes.

In my experience it is also one of the most consistently misunderstood and ill-preached (an actual term?) of any book in the Bible. Not that I have it all figured out. Show me that man who gets it all, I would like to shake his hand and listen to him talk for days.

My dad has taught the book with great clarity and understanding. But, sadly, he hasn’t written a book about it.

Lacking that, Doug Wilson’s book , Joy at the End of the Tether, is the very best book I have read on Ecclesiastes. I recommend it with a muchness.

Here, in a short video, Wilson talks a little about it.

“Joy at the end of the tether” – Conversations with Doug Wilson from Daniel Foucachon on Vimeo.

I had fun with last week’s post about what actually happened last year, and it was true enough. But it’s clear to me that there is a danger for me in being too flippant about the events of life. In particular, there’s a danger in not recognizing, with thankfulness, the sovereign hand of God for our good and, most importantly, for his glory, in all things.

So God himself is, of course, the author and hero of this story that is my life. There’s no meaning, truth, beauty, or goodness apart from Christ. So, with that in mind, I want to be thankful out loud here for a few areas I neglected last week.

Family
The mercy of God in my ordinary life has no greater vehicle than my bride, Gina. She is the primary voice of encouragement in my life (and in my writing) and is a nearly-endless blessing to me in a thousand ways. She is an excellent partner and an enormous helper. There’s no higher calling than that. Our children have been an unbelievable gift, a source of joy and a point of focus for an intentionality in my life I’ve never had before. Thank you, Yahweh.

Our wider family has been a gift as well, from our parents to our siblings and cousins etc. I here include some special friends who have been like family to us. You know who you are.

Vocation
I thank God for the work he has blessed us with. I have never been more satisfied in occupational matters than I am now. I know the idea of vocation (calling) extends beyond occupation, and that we are called to many things. But I am thankful for my job.

I want to thank the saints at my local church. They have been an unlooked for delight to us, and an experience of meeting in the name of Jesus we are deeply happy in. The pastors have been faithful under-shepherds to the Senior Pastor (Chief Shepherd), Jesus.

Suffering
Suffering is an ordinary part of fallen life. I thank God that he has been good to us in and out of pain. Life hasn’t been easy for us in many ways, as I know it isn’t for anyone (though we all feel like our pain is unique and particularly difficult). God’s sovereign hand for good in all things is in evidence in our lives. We are thankful for this mercy.

Finally, I mentioned that we had a son. His name is Micah. We gave him this name as, primarily, a tribute to the unmatched glory of God. Micah means “Who is like Yahweh?” The answer is, of course, silence. There is no one like Yahweh (rendered “The LORD” in most translations). No one compares with him. All wholesome delights originate in him, reflecting glory back to the Source.

We want to find our joy in him, and see with clear eyes that all true delight is a gift from him, and we want to be happy about that. As a naturally somewhat-melancholy, anxious type, it’s my prayer that I can set aside the impediments which sprout in my heart, weeding with vigor at the nonsense fruit of vanity.

A Psalm we learned last year is an appropriate way to end this brief exercise in public thankfulness. Maybe you should consider memorizing it as defensive measure in the war on your soul -for when the inevitable attacks come.

Psalm 46

46:1 God is our refuge and strength,
a very present help in trouble.
2 Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way,
though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea,
3 though its waters roar and foam,
though the mountains tremble at its swelling. Selah
4 There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
the holy habitation of the Most High.
5 God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved;
God will help her when morning dawns.
6 The nations rage, the kingdoms totter;
he utters his voice, the earth melts.
7 The LORD of hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress. Selah
8 Come, behold the works of the LORD,
how he has brought desolations on the earth.
9 He makes wars cease to the end of the earth;
he breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
he burns the chariots with fire.
10 “Be still, and know that I am God.
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth!”
11 The LORD of hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress. Selah

May the God of Jacob get glory from us in 2010. He will be exalted, so let’s join in the endless chorus.

I love Luke’s ”orderly account” of what has been accomplished by Yahweh in the first advent of Christ.

We remember the true tale of how the angel Gabriel came to two people (in Luke’s account), one was a priest and the other a virgin.

The priest’s wife, Elizabeth, and Mary both get a lot of time in the early part of Luke.

Both are women whose station in life is in relationship to their husbands (or, in Mary’s case, her betrothed). One woman’s husband has a “secular” career, the other a religious one.  Both have a humble calling, a vocation for the lowly of spirit.

Elizabeth might have had some status as the wife of a priest, but she describes herself as having a reproach upon her from her people (because she was barren).

Mary would have likely had almost no status at all on her own.

What is the value of such people in the world’s economy (especially today)? They are nobodies.

Both women are blessed by God in a miraculous way by miraculous pregnancies and births. Both women became catalysts for the greatest event in the history of mankind.

It was not to, or through, Herod the Great that such things were accomplished. It was in spite of him. He was a mighty, important, powerful man who ruled the land. He was a man of intelligence, strength, and creativity. He was, perhaps, a genius. Let’s contrast this great man of his time with two Jewish women.

Elizabeth and Mary were humble-hearted believers.

What does Elizabeth say of Mary in vs. 45? How does Mary respond to truth that is good beyond measure?

“Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.”

What profound humility. What submission. What simple, astonishing beauty.

Do not believe the horrendous, and popular, lie that “History Doesn’t Remember Obedient Women.”

“From now on all generations will call me blessed,” sings humble Mary (in a Gospel-drenched, deeply theological, and lovely song).

She believes.

Mary hears…and believes.

What is our calling? It is the same as Mary’s in that way. We must hear, and having heard: believe.

Hear and believe.

This requires a humble heart, because it is the abandonment of whatever status we have held on to as a coin to buy God’s favor.

It is a filing for bankruptcy.

It is a kneeling surrender of our sword and our rank.

It is, as a wise man said, a “glorious defeat.”

In Christ’s advent we celebrate the happy end of our pretended reign.

There is no room for Herod the Great -clinging to his murderous self-interest.

Let us look instead to believing Mary, and Elizabeth –two beautiful, humble children of God– and let us imitate their faith.

Hear –and believe.

In honor of the holy days ahead and seeing as no one in their right mind is reading blogs and such (even ones as brief as this one) I have decided to shut ‘er down for a week or so after tomorrow’s post.

My parting thoughts (except for tomorrow’s post) are thus.

Please don’t get too uptight about people saying “Happy Holidays,” instead of “Merry Christmas” –let’s just do our celebrating on purpose, with an awareness that this celebration centers on the most profound act of humility in history.

“And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.”

-from John 1

If you have reason to celebrate that goes beyond sentimentality then be glad. And be merciful.

“…And his mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts;
he has brought down the mighty from their thrones
and exalted those of humble estate…”

-from Luke 1 (from Mary’s Song)

Let’s keep the Gospel in Christmas.

May Yahweh be merciful to each of you. Have a happy Christmas.

Tomorrow’s post will have to do it for a “thought for Christmas” from me this year. Peace to you.

And speaking of humility, here’s a picture of me in the snow. Yippee. Fun times with the little ones.

I love Advent season and the feast of Christmas. What better way to welcome the start of Advent than with the song of humble Mary, wife of Joseph, mother of King Jesus? Want to know why Mary is one of my favorite heroes of the Bible? Read her lovely song. (More on this later.)

And Mary said,

“My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant.
For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for he who is mighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.
And his mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts;
he has brought down the mighty from their thrones
and exalted those of humble estate;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
and the rich he has sent away empty.
He has helped his servant Israel,
in remembrance of his mercy,
as he spoke to our fathers,
to Abraham and to his offspring forever.”

From Luke 1 (esv)

This is one of those scribbles that starts off in the toilet then proceeds into heaven. “I hope,” he says, scratching his beard.

There is a bathroom a certain man frequents. When this man first enters the dark and private chamber the lights do hesitate, and then do come on–even while the baffled first-timer gropes along the wall for the usual trigger. Having found none, he thinks to himself, “Ah, automatic lights. What would Jules Verne think?” And he proceeds to enjoy the meaning of lighted, lavatorial convenience.

Later this same man is fooled only a few more times in the ritual, and he no longer gropes along the wall for the on-switch–-there is no such switch, only a sensor–and he relieves his mind of that duty and skips this formerly ingrained step.

Later still he anticipates with confidence what will occur moments after he enters the darkness and, in jubilation, he snaps his fingers in concert with the burst of light. He feels a little bit like God.

That man is me.

I remembered, of course, that I wasn’t God. It actually served as a little goad to good-thinking. God, like the tale spinner he is, speaks and the world he imagines breathes, blinks, and gets flat tires. He is all-powerful and his words are alive. “Light,” he says and there it is.

My pretended pretense does, however, make me think of all the genuine pretense I engage in. How I pretend sovereignty in many rather insane ways. For instance, I grumble about my health. I react with disgust when my selfishness is rebuffed. I complain when modern conveniences are a little bit slower than they should have been. I believe insane political ramblings about what I’m entitled to. I sit in a culture rich beyond the imagination of almost every person who has ever lived (and is living) and I complain about circumstances, the “economy,” and my rights.

When I am like this I am a humanist.

That is, I see man as the center of the universe and, if he is included, God is included in the same way he is a popular name to drop at the end of the imbecilic, political speech. Here is a familiar, non-threatening, accommodating grandpa whom no one takes seriously anymore.

But I don’t think that’s true, so why do I act like it’s true? We can wrap up a product of the restroom in a gold-plated treasure-chest but it doesn’t do much to change the product in question. It is what it is.

Belief is more than intellectual consent.

If I believe the Gospel (which is a particular batch of good news), I do not just affirm it in my mind. Enemies can do that. Believers believe with more. We live by faith.

Abraham took Hagar. We all stumble in many ways.

I am thankful that God lovingly reveals the idols we often unwittingly allow to dominate our hearts while he is wrecking everything to love us. So die, damned humanism of my heart.

What does faith in Yahweh look like?

I believe that faith in Yahweh is full of thankfulness, and not jealous of claimed “rights.”

I believe that faith in Yahweh is astonished at mercy, not eager for personal justice.

I believe that faith in Yahweh is abounding in grace, not miserly and hoarding.

I believe that faith in Yahweh is patient in affliction, not outraged at the loss of what was a gift to begin with (like health, wealth, position).

I believe that faith in Yahweh is humble, not preoccupied with status.

I believe that faith in Yahweh sees suffering and does not cry out to God “This is unfair,” but instead cries out, “Oh God, you have been merciful to me, can I be merciful here?”

I believe that faith in Yahweh is astonished that anyone receives mercy, increasingly so as the reality of our offense becomes clearer as we grow closer to Jesus.

I believe faith in Yahweh issues in love (in that order), not that somehow “loving everybody” gets you standing with Yahweh.

This is something very simple we pray in our home because we need a lot of mercy, want to be thankful people, and we want grace real bad. And we want to look to Christ, and have life.

“Oh God of Abraham, please give us humble hearts.
Oh God of Isaac, please give us thankful hearts.
Oh God of Jacob, please give us faith. Let us see Jesus.”

Understanding that these are gifts, and not entitlements, ought to go a long way in answering the prayer for humility.

To say that stories don’t matter is a kind of intellectual insanity. To say that our own individual stories (and our interpretation of them) take precedence over objective reality and revealed truth is a deplorable, post-modern, bear trap of arrogant rebellion.

Stories matter for many reasons, not least of which is that the story of Jesus is news we must believe and embrace to have eternal life, forgiveness of sin and guilt.

But embracing our own story and our own version of events is also one of the most dangerous things possible. For by embracing our own way we naturally say “no,” even “Hell no,” to God.

This is a bad plan, and a bad way to live out the story of your life. Don’t be that character.

The video.

The audio.

3. Like faith, stories engage us as whole persons, not as parts.

No one believes anything important with the intellect alone. Believing is a whole body, whole life experience. If it doesn’t involve everything, it’s not belief but simply an agreement with an idea. Believing enlists all the aspects of the mind. It involves the will, curiosity, personality, character, our bodies, imagination. You don’t believe anything deeply that isn’t a product of all that you are.

Reason is a tool that will serve any master, including the most odious. By itself it does not get us where we need to go. We need to use it as well as we can, but we are foolish to think that any single human faculty is sufficient to guide our entire lives. A lot of wrong thoughts about life come from not treating people wholly. Anything that respects only reason, or only will-power or discipline will break down.

Consider the example of Nathan’s confrontation of David, after he had slept with Bathsheba and murdered her husband (2 Samuel 12). He tells a story to David, and he tells it masterfully, using timing and irony and pathos. David becomes enraged by the actions of the rich man in Nathan’s story and declares that he deserves to die.

Notice that David’s intellect, emotion, sense of justice, and body are involved. He responds as a whole person, which is exactly the response Nathan must have desired. And then the prophet says most powerfully, “You are that man!,” bringing the full force of the message home to David and leading him to repentance.

So, it stinks to feel bad. Sickness, sadness, and pain of all kinds are a real revelation of authentic, or inauthentic, trust. It’s a challenge to our selfish worldview –our pretensions to the Throne of the Universe. We say in our hearts, “This is not fair. I am good. I deserve to be healthy. I appear unable to control this and that challenges my assumption that I am the master of my life.”

At least those are things that clamor for my (mostly subconscious) acknowledgment when I don’t feel well (which is –whine alert- not all that infrequent).

How do you deal with the insurgence of selfishness which is revealed at times like that? Are there portions of Scripture (in context) you focus on? 

I think Psalm 46 is inspiring and instructive. We had memorized that as a family for times of suffering, struggle, and pain (we need to get back to that, actually, so we don’t lose it from our memories). Romans 8 comes to mind, and some others.

What about you?