New Focus. New Fanaticism

Tomorrow marks ONE YEAR since I quit my job in special education...

So, it was time for an updated banner on this blog, which (until five minutes ago) read, "Learning to GIVE through special education, marriage, and everything else that wants to kill me."  My life looks vastly different from when I created Turning Selfish into Service--when I barely saw Luke (full-time-student-with-a-full-time-job), and my most frequent prayer when I woke at 5:00am was, "Lord, please, let the classroom be easier to manage than it was yesterday."   (Oh, and "No poop explosions, please!")

But, as much as things have changed, I'm still a committed Christian, fighting those sinful, self-centered impulses that will plague all of us until we reach Heaven. And I still yearn for that sense of community, to encourage me I'm not alone in the fight to put Jesus first, others second, and myself last.
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My blog was due for a re-focus because it has engaged many non-Christians over the years, and I've participated in many, lengthy discussions about morality, Truth, and why I subscribe to such strict Christian doctrines (especially regarding marriage, homosexuality, abortion, and other notoriously hot topics).

These have been useful conversations, but (through no fault of my Anonymous friends) they tend to throw my regular posts off track. In trying to defend my straight-forward, preachy and (to use a popular adjective) "arrogant" posts, I forget to explain that my main target group is fellow Christians, who already recognize their need for a Savior and want to be selfless as an act of worship to God.

I begin by assuming my readers believe we each are responsible, personally, to do as much as we can to serve our fellow man....and then, through Christ's help, do a little more. When I try to write for non-Christians simultaneously, however, I'm afraid I come across as a stinky, overzealous fanatic.

This comes from Timothy Keller's book, Reason for God. It hit me between the eyes this morning:

Many people try to understand Christians along a spectrum from "nominalism" at one end to "fanaticism" on the other. A nominal Christian is someone who is Christian in name only, who does not practice it and perhaps barely believes it. A fanatic is someone who is thought to over-believe and over-practice Christianity. In this schematic, the best kind of Christian would be someone in the middle, someone who doesn't go all the way with it, who believes it but is not too devoted to it. The problem with this approach is that it assumes the Christian faith is basically a form of moral improvement. Intense Christians would therefore be intense moralists...[who] assume they are right with God because of their moral behavior and right doctrine. This leads, naturally, to feelings of superiority...[and] to various forms of abuse, exclusion, and oppression. This is the essence of what we think of as fanaticism. 

If a fanatic pursues morality--just for morality's sake--it's no wonder people from outside my audience think I'm a know-it-all spiritual snob.  But Keller continues:

What if, however, the essence of Christianity is salvation by grace, not because of what we do but because of what Christ has done for us? Belief that you are accepted by God by sheer grace is profoundly humbling. The people who are fanatics then are so not because they are too committed to the Gospel, but because they're not committed to it enough.
Think of people you consider fanatical. They're overbearing, self-righteous, opinionated, insensitive, and harsh. Why? It's not because they are too Christian but because they are not Christian enough. They are fanatically zealous and courageous, but they are not fanatically humble, sensitive, loving, empathetic, forgiving, or understanding--as Christ was. Because they think of Christianity as a self-improvement program they emulate the Jesus of the whips in the temple, but not the Jesus who said, "Let him who is without sin cast the first stone" (John 8:7) What strikes us as overly fanatical is actually a failure to be fully committed to Christ and his Gospel.

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I don't mean to sound as though I have all the answers. But, I have the Bible in common with my intended-audience, which is a Christian's source for answers. Contrary to the popular saying, the choir needs to hear the preaching just as often as anyone else--and my audience (saved by grace alone and NOT because they've got it all together) already knows this.

I'm still working on being over-bearing, opinionated, insensitive, and harsh. I'm not fanatical enough, yet, and that's precisely why I wrote this blog. I need support from others who want to pursue true Jesus fanaticism along with me. And, to those I've offended through misplaced sermons and Not-Very-Christlike words, I'm genuinely sorry. I'm relieved to know Jesus forgives me, and I hope you will, too.

In the meantime, anyone (even a non-Christian) is welcome to continue reading my newly-focused posts and ask questions, if, despite my failures, they're still interested in imitating that perfectly-loving, self-sacrificing Role Model of mine...

Breaking: Lazy Journalism Rewarded by a Race-Obsessed Culture!!!

When does a quick Twitter search and a couple screen shots count as investigative journalism?  When the story is about racism, of course!  Minority-hating is so prevalent that a reporter needn’t work terribly hard collecting a black list of offenders (no pun intended) before presenting the nasty, intolerant folks for public shame.

For example, this article recently chastised roughly 15 Tweeters, whose posts about the black actors in the movie The Hunger Games were considered racially-inappropriate. The scandal was uncovered by the reputable journalists at Jezebel.com. (Motto: "Celebrity, Sex, Fashion for women.")

Okay, seriously, Jezebel is an online tabloid. If you need more proof, one of its columns is called "the dirt bag.” Like most gossip gazettes, it has turned defamation into an art form—though celebrities provide bigger targets than private citizens. So I’m a little surprised they dared post the full names and faces of unsuspecting Tweeters, under a headline calling them "Racists.” 

The tweets were used—poor spelling and all—to make sweeping character judgments. But the reporter didn’t bother contacting the Tweeters personally so they could explain themselves in more than 140 characters. Jezebel settled for lazy research leading to libelous accusations, which is why “entertainment news” receives zero credit from sane people.

But race-obsessed America isn’t sane.

Thus, a whole gaggle of second-and-third-hand outlets picked up Jezebel’s story, taking it seriously as if it hadn’t appeared next to a piece about “the appropriate times to stare at a woman’s butt." Copy-cat “reports” ran in Forbes, HuffingtonPost, E!, Us Magazine, WashingtonPost (blog), and countless other virtual information hubs. And—what’s worse—not one of these newspapers gave the Tweeters a chance to defend themselves. No one gave them the benefit of the doubt.

Does it frighten anyone else that a regular Joe’s tweets, statuses, and blog quotes can be ripped from context and used to castigate him as a person?  Is it possible there are explanations for those quotes, besides utter, intolerable racism? 

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"After watching the hunger games preview 6 times in a row, i realized Rue is black. whaaaat?! #shocked."

"cinna and rue weren't suppose to be black...why did the producer make all the good characters black smh"

"I was pumped about the movie, until I learned a black girl was playing Rue."

Honestly, I have no idea whether these Tweeters think black people are worth less than white people. Or if, possibly, they’re just upset the movie didn’t match the picture in their head. Personally, while reading the Hunger Games, I had a difficult time keeping track of the skin tones of 50+ characters at once. So I, too, am surprised Rue is black. I see now the book’s author calls her “dark-skinned,” but I missed that line the first time around. And I can tell you what I would have said to my husband in the theater, when I saw African-American Rue instead of the red-head I expected:

“So, they’re keeping it PC, huh?…” 

Luke would understand what I meant; when the book’s author doesn’t specify a race for a character, the part often goes to a minority actor, to “balance out” the cast. We wouldn’t want a movie to become too white, or the producers might get caught in the pages of Jezebel, wearing the racist label.

Thus, if someone pictured Rue incorrectly, his “disappointment” belongs in the same category as those who complained about Dear John, Twilight, and any other best-seller-turned-movie failing to reach the high expectations of its fans. Viewers especially hate when a beloved novels get edited for political reasons. 

In this case, it seems many fans were guilty of misreading. (What?! With elogquent, well-punctuated Twitter posts like theirs?! Poor reading comprehension?...  #shocked)  But that’s far less damning than being “racists.” 

A couple of those tweeters I’m nearly sure were just making jokes. Like this guy, who is pictured as a young, black man, (and who tags a dark-skinned girl in his tweet): "EWW...rue is black?? I'm not watching." It sounds like irony to me. Another person wrote, "Since when is Rue a nigger?" He could be an insensitive racist. Or he could watch a lot of “shock” comics—like Chris Rock—and genuinely believe blatant profanity is funny. 

Again, I can’t say what happens in the heads of these Tweeters—much less their hearts—but I wish at least one reporter had bothered to ask them before (almost all of) the offenders closed their Twitter accounts. This last bit of the story interests me most... I believe the reaction of the “guilty tweeters” reveals more about the issue of racism than anything they wrote before realizing a sleazy magazine would turn it into news.  

The internet community blasted the Twitter-users, with a unity that doesn’t often follow controversial stories.  Even when a tiny human died in utero, trolls emerged to say unspeakably ugly things to the parents. Yet, in the case of the Racist Tweeters, literally thousands of responses delivered the same message: “Shame on those tweeters!”  “Skin color doesn’t matter!” “Racist behavior sickens me!” “I thought Rue looked like an angel!” And on, and on, and on. In my searching, I couldn't find one--NOT ONE--person suggesting the tweeters were misunderstood. Let alone someone suggesting that racism itself is okay.

So, where are all the racists?

The readers/commenters believe “skin color doesn’t matter.” Their implication is, “I’m not a racist!” And many people shared the story on Facebook—to clarify they disapprove of racism as well. This generation went to school in integrated classrooms, played on black, brown, and yellow sports teams, and usually had a least one close friend they could use as a reference about life-in-a-different color.  (At 7-years-old, I asked Jasmine how she “got her hair with all the beads in it.” She responded very informatively with: “I don’t know. My mom does it.”) 

Besides hearing that “skin color doesn’t matter” (repeatedly), most young people have experienced it. Thus, being “racist” is so serious an offense that even people condemned supposedly by their own words took to hiding rather than face the wrath of the righteously-angry Online Community. (Motto: we’re not racist.)

So, where are those who believe skin color does matter? And why are we so determined to find them, give them a platform, and then criticize their intolerance?

Pride

I’m sitting in the doctor’s office, waiting for the test results and wondering how it came to this…

Slowly, over the past few weeks, my skin began drying, flaking, and eventually cracking—whilst a film of itchy scales developed over every inch of me. There are scabs on my scalp, in my mouth, and even under my fingernails, which came from hours of clawing for some relief. 

It’s disgusting and embarrassing. But I could tolerate those inconveniences if it weren’t for the pain. 

A nurse walks into the exam room. I wanted to talk to a Doctor. Where is he? 

“I have good news!” she chirps, with far too much pep to be feeling sympathy for me.  “You have chronic Sabaceous Infectorial Necrocytosis!* Rather than the usually harmless oily substance emitted by your sweat glands, a highly toxic chemical is being produced, which causes the epidermis cells to expire far more rapidly than they can reproduce.”  I’m not in the mood for obnoxious healthcare jargon.

“How is that good news?” I ask.

“Oh,” she laughs, as if this is funny. “The condition itself is awful." The nurse digs through a cabinet and removes a syringe, continuing her impromptu health lesson. "Actually, the scabs and scratching are only half the problem. If left untreated, Infectorial Necrocytosis progresses into mood disorders and blindness….”  

 She glances at me, like she expects me to beg for the rest. Is this some kind of power trip?

“But, on to the good news,” she continues, with that fake smile.  “Doc actually developed the drug which he uses to treat thousands with your precise problem. You came to the right place!” She looks irritatingly pleased with herself, so I pin her with a glare and say the first thing I think:

“You think I have a problem?”  Finally, her permagrin disappears, and I’m fueled by this response. “Something tells me you haven’t, personally, treated many others in my condition, with an insensitive statement like that.”

 “I—I didn’t mean to imply a jab at you personally,” she stammers. Now, she takes a step forward to attempt the compassion she obviously doesn't possess naturally. “Thousands have been cured—good as new. We can relieve you of the scratching and burning today, if you roll up your sleeve for the shot.”   Whoa. Whoa.

“Whoa!" I argue. "What do you mean ‘we’? All I see is you, and now I’m wondering where your absentee boss is? I never agreed to treatment from a stranger!”   The more I think about it, the more worked up I get. In my head, frustration spins in fragments—until that condescending voice pierces the air again. 

“The Doctor who oversees this clinic isn’t in the office today. But we have protocol for this situation.”

 This lady is not making sense. How can a Doctor “oversee” from another location? How does she know she’s following his orders?

“I don’t have a problem, Nurse.” I say, standing and holding my gown closed in the back. “At least not a problem you can claim to understand.” I’m really spinning now. “How do you know those orders were written by the Doctor? How do you know you’ve interpreted them correctly?”

“Friend, listen,” she says seriously. (I’m not your friend.) “The Necrocytosis has progressed further than I thought.  If you take the injection, you'll understand what I'm saying.” 

“I said I don’t need an injection!”  I insist. But the words emerge far less forcefully than I expect. Deep inside, a cool calm is spreading. My skin continues to crawl with fire ants—but, somehow, my heart detects a bit of peace. My mouth continues, without my brain: “First you claim to know what’s happening in my body, and you tell me I need to get fixed. Now you’re totally sure you know what the Doctor would do if he were here. But can you prove you speak for him?”  I’ve almost gotten my shoes tied. 

The nurse looks panic-stricken now: “I can show you the prescription, or have another nurse explain the procedure—“

“Prescriptions are easily forged. Is there any way you can say, for certain, the Doctor authorized this drug?”

“Yes!”

“Then you're haughtier than I thought. No one can speak for another with certainty.”  I hardly hear myself, through the rush of endorphins flooding my entire body. I haven’t felt this good in weeks! As I zip up my coat, I really let her have it: “Your over-confidence has cost you a patient today. I wouldn’t trust your judgment if you paid me—never mind would I pay you for a “cure.” In fact, the longer I stay, the more I wonder whether I have a problem at all.”    The nurse sniffs, though I can't see her with my back turned to leave…and, also, my vision is a little blurry. 

I call over my shoulder: “Thank you for your very interesting opinion, but I’m comfortable with my decision.” And the door closes behind me.

I whistle as I scratch my abdomen and walk toward my car.

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That was six months ago, and things have gotten even better since then.

Online, I discovered a whole community of “Skin-Flakers,” and they agree I was wise to leave the know-it-all nurse behind. It turns out, there are many ways to cope with Sebaceous Infectorial Necrocytosis, which the jealous, money-hungry “professionals” don’t like to discuss.

Now I swear by a moisturizing cold-cream, which takes the unbearable edge off my pain. The man who formulates it says he’s a relative of my first Doc. And, as my new friends teach me to pursue that internal peace, the memory of the day I was diagnosed almost vanishes. I mean, my skin still burns at night sometimes. But, I’m really, truly happy. 

The cream and community support have confirmed what I told that nurse six months ago. I’m veeeeeeeeery comfortable with my situation…almost downright delirious.

(*Note: the idea for the skin disease came from Ted Dekker's Circle Series;  the medical name for it and the afflicted character are mine.)

Parenting Advice from Richard Dawkins

We’re terrified of the word “brainwashed.” 

Yet, I propose to you—if parents had done it properly since the beginning of time—we’d be a far more intellectual people than “free-thinking” has made us…

What does “intellect” mean, apart from what God revealed to our ancestors? What can we know that He hasn’t allowed? How can anyone claim “freedom of thought,” if God sustains our very life, while we grope for answers in the brains we worship in His place?

Perhaps this is why the parenting advice of Richard Dawkins (evolutionary biologist), irritates some of us:

“Do not indoctrinate your children. Teach them how to think for themselves, how to evaluate evidence, and how to disagree with you.”

Indeed, parents… Teach your kids how to think. But, naturally, you shouldn’t teach “how to think” is better than teaching “what to think.” Because, that would be teaching them what to think…

And definitely don’t tell them what to believe because—Dr. Dawkins believes—this is the best belief. 

If your babies reach adulthood and don’t trust a thing you say, pat yourself on the back.  After all, to quote Dawkins again, “The majority of children born into the world tend to inherit the beliefs of their parents, and that to me is one of the most regrettable facts of them all.” 

Except, some of us believe children were meant to inherit the beliefs of their parents, once upon a time, before something threw the system for a loop.

In the beginning, God walked with the first humans. He taught them about right and wrong, and He outlined the rules for enjoying life to the fullest. Thus, you might say the first “intelligent” thing men did was put their faith in the One with the answers…

 

Anyway, during all this intimate contact with mankind, God instructed His people to make sure they didn’t forget what they were learning. He said, to paraphrase, “BRAINWASH YOUR KIDS.”

“Fix these words of mine in your hearts and minds; tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Teach them to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates.” (Deut. 11:18-21)

I’d bet Richard Dawkins thinks this practice is despicable. When parents repeat “their truths” to naïve and impressionable children, it stunts their ability to ask questions for themselves.  Right? Right?

Yet how does he explain this long letter, rife with conclusions and absolute statements, written to help his 10-year-old daughter determine the “correct” kind of belief?   

Here’s my favorite part: “My dearest daughter…. I want to move on from evidence, which is a good reason for believing something, and warn you against three bad reasons for believing anything. They are called ‘tradition’, ‘authority’, and ‘revelation’.”  

I agree with Dawkins that beliefs should have some evidential support. But doesn’t it sound like he’s teaching her what to believe, in that sentence? Is this not indoctrination of the scientific method?  If Dawkins’ message to little Juliet was “disagree with me,” how far will she take it?

Much to the dismay of Dawkins’ generation of scientists, their process of un-educating children has sort of backfired. These little brains have gotten so good as asking questions they won’t even answer them anymore! Dawkins defends his use of absolute statements—saying essentially, there is such thing as “certain enough,” though no science can prove something 100%. He says agnosticism (or, “I don’t know for sure”) doesn’t have to mean a 50/50 toss-up—so he expects people to  lean safely toward one conclusion or another.

But members of the next generation of “free” thinkers don’t always agree.   After years of being told they can solve anything on their own, if they demand evidence, young people have begun to doubt the very brains they use to ask questions.  Suddenly, Dawkins’ religion of Biology ushers young minds into Philosophy, which has a history of praising people for being “intelligent” when they lock themselves indoors for hours or days, trying to solve major problems like, “How can I know that I know that I know?”   

It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? We send our children to college for learning, and their biggest lesson is they can’t learn anything. Then, they hear echoes of Dawkins’ words: tradition, authority, and revelation are bad.  Yet, when they ask for “proof” that skeptical science is good, they find none there, either. Their doubt and further questions lead, eventually, to an “infinite regress” of skepticism, until they conclude—in frustration—there are no answers for anything at all. 

All of this could have been spared if—somewhere during the Enlightenment era, perhaps?—men hadn’t gotten too “smart” for their own good.  If they hadn’t declared—without reason—that things are only true when they study it themselves, the nonsensical, immoral Religion of Thought wouldn’t have grown out of control.  Because intellectuals allowed themselves to be deceived, they gladly surrendered the only certain, God-spoken truths, which had been passed through tradition since time began.

The results are foolish.

“…what may be known about God is plain to them, because God has made it plain to them. For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse. For although they knew God, they neither glorified him as God nor gave thanks to him; but their thinking became futile and their foolish hearts were darkened. Although they claimed to be wise, they became fools…” (Romans 1:20-22)

Science can study many things and produce certain-enough answers. But, it doesn’t answer all the questions of a man’s spirit. Seek God with your whole heart, and don’t let your brain drive you crazy. If you really want to find the Truth, God says you will find Him.  

And when you do PLEASE brainwash your children!  Regardless of what Dawkins says, he indoctrinated his kid, too. The only difference is—rather than the God of the Bible—he sold the impotent gods of Thought and Science…

Theoretically, if Dawkins’ parents had done their job, and their parents had done their job—all the way back to Adam—none of us would be free-thinkers. And it would be fantastic! Satan never would have converted anyone to his Religion of Lies (John 8:44), and all people would remain “brainwashed” by the Creator, who came up with the idea of “true” in the first place…

Unfortunately, no child born into the world has totally inherited the beliefs of their Heavenly Father—which is “the most regrettable fact of them all.”

How's That Good News?

It’s been almost a year now, since I talked about The F-Word.

Forgiveness is the only thing that separates Christians from non-Christians.  I described a likely conversation between me and God on Judgment Day, based on certain Scriptures, and thanks to "the F-Word," God says I don't need to worry.

But, today, I’ve been imagining they way Judgment could go for a non-believer, based once-again on Scripture along with common reasons many Atheists give for refusing Jesus:

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God: How did you spend your time on earth?

Sinner: I tried to be a good person. I stayed humble, and I didn’t judge others. Once in awhile, I told a 

lie or lost my temper. But I did far more good things than bad.

God:  A good judge punishes wrong-doing. Your heart is deceitful and desperately wicked. Though you always preferred the term "flawed," the honest word is “sinner.” Now you must pay for the evil things you did.

Sinner: Why didn't you make yourself more obvious, God? I wasn’t even sure you were really there!

God: You suppressed the truth with your own wickedness. (Romans 1:18) There was evidence of my existence everywhere you looked—from beauty of nature, to the laws of science, from the complicated human brain, to the simple spider web. (Romans 1:19,20) Only your pride blinded you.  You loved sharing your opinion but had no intention of trying to understand. (Psalm 18:2)

Sinner:  But, how could I understand? I was flawed!  Even when I thought You might exist, I was limited by my own untrustworthy brain. How could tiny, pathetic me have known your thoughts?

God: Out of love, I revealed myself to you! (John 3:16) First, I sent Moses, Abraham, and all the prophets. Then, my Son fulfilled their predictions—over 300 of them—down to the place He’d be born and the manner in which He would die. I said anyone who looked for Me would find Me, if they searched with their whole heart. (Jer. 29:13) And My Son echoed me, saying, “…seek and you will find. Knock, and the door will be opened.” But your heart was calloused. You refused to believe what your eyes saw and your ears heard. (Matt. 13:13-15)

Sinner:  But, Jehovah, that was the problem! There were many religions and many truths. How could I have picked which one was the right way?

God: My Son said “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father, except through me.”  (John 14:6) 

Sinner:  I never thought you’d send someone to Hell for something so small. It doesn’t seem like you…

God:  It should not be a surprise you don't know what I'm like. I longed to gather you in my protective arms, but you were not willing. (Matthew 23:37) Now the time for judgment has come--and I must act justly. Do you have anything else to say in your defense?

Sinner:  I was blind. Your Word said so.  "The god of this age has blinded the minds of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God" (2 Corinthians 4:4) Punish Satan for this; not me!

God: My Word revealed your blindness to you, but still you didn’t open your eyes. You ignored the rest of the message, rather than examining the testimonies about how I raised Jesus from the dead, and you never declared with your mouth “Jesus is Lord.” (Romans 10:9)

Sinner: I believe it now! (*Falling to his knees*) I know that Jesus is Lord! (Romans 14:11)

Jesus: I never knew you. Away from me, evil-doer.  (Matt. 7:23)

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I admit, it's a downer of a read.  How can it be good news?

Simply: because it doesn't have to happen at all. There is no reason for anybody to experience a situation like the one above. It's good news because it's not Judgment Day yet. 

It seems agreeable and even intellectual to say, "Whatever you believe is fine!"
We feel antagonistic and closed-minded claiming the road to Heaven is narrow (Matthew 7:14). But, One way is much better than no way. And, although no one did anything to deserve it, forgiveness is available once we admit we need Jesus' help...

There's no reason to be disheartened or offended when we read Christ's words in the Bible. Neither should Christians feel intrusive or arrogant for delivering the message. (A video by Atheist, Penn Jillette shows some will appreciate it.)  If Jesus was correct, we need to talk about this, before the Good New turns bad...

There is one way to Heaven, and it's not too late to accept. 

For Which God are you Searching?

I really wanted to like the book Eat, Pray, Love.

 

For the same reasons I picked up Bossypants—that is, I liked the author’s speaking style and wondered if her book was equally good—I borrowed Elizabeth Gilbert’s memoir from the library.  (She gave an encouraging talk about harnessing creativity on Ted.com, so I had high hopes for this best-seller.) Gilbert spent a year “searching for her center” across Europe and Asia, after an ugly divorce and sudden thirst for spiritual ideas sent her reeling…  But, with another similarity to the Bossypants situation, I wasn't totally enthralled.

First, the positives: Gilbert is funny. (Yes, definitely more so than Tina Fey, if you're wondering!) She has a whimsical, sometimes-rambling voice, sprinkled with short, clever punchlines. As a writer, I gathered several techniques for conveying thoughts more thoroughly, without losing entertainment value to wordiness. (Whether I manage to use this new knowledge remains to be seen.)

So—while vehemently disagreeing with the moral of Gilbert’s story—the tale was very well-told.  

She also hooked me with a chew-worthy quote on the very first page: “Sincere spiritual investigation is, and always has been, an endeavor of methodical discipline. Looking for the Truth is not some kind of spazzy free-for-all…”  

 

"Wonderful!" I thought, "An educated, disciplined person wishes to find capital ‘T’ Truth in a methodical way… We ought to find some common ground!" And, yes, since Gilbert and I both desire for people to yank their heads out of their monotonous routines long enough to look for life’s Answers, I believe we do share similarities.

Unfortunately, Gilbert’s system for determining the goodness or rightness of something relied heavily on how she felt about it. Thus, I conclude her year-long quest only yielded a new personal truth (lower-case 't’), which Divine Reality doesn't always support.

Chapter one, though sparing the details of her looming divorce, Gilbert recalls sitting on the bathroom floor thinking, repeatedly, “I don’t want to be married anymore.” “I don’t want to live in this big house.” “I don’t want to have a baby.”  Gilbert's strong emotions told her something was wrong, and it was time for drastic changes. She wanted something else. She didn’t feel the way she believed she should, regarding her husband and her home...

But--during an emotional crisis--how can the pursuit of "good feelings" be anything but a spazzy free-for-all?  Where is the Absolute Moral Standard in Miss Gilbert's life? How can she trust unstable, often-changing feelings to lead her to Truth?

Gilbert's "reasons" for getting out of her marriage are similar to the method she uses to reject the Bible’s teaching about Jesus: “I can’t swallow that fixed rule of Christianity insisting that Christ is the only path to God.”  So, what does she believe? “Traditionally, I have responded to the transcendent mystics of all religions.”  Thus, Gilbert proudly reveals her cards. She embraces relativism and adopts whichever spiritual ideas give her an emotional response. She has chiseled a god who answers to her feelings, rather than using her head to find the Answer that doesn’t change. 

I should pause here to say Gilbert’s self-constructed "truth" system is no worse than the religion of Christians who stumble upon the all-powerful, unchanging Truth completely by accident. If you worship Jehovah, read the Bible, and say your prayers “In Jesus’ Name Amen,” but have no idea why, then you are equally guilty of the spazzy, free-for-all method.  I realize it's tempting to base our knowledge of Divinity entirely on sampling exquisite cuisine, standing near oceans and mountains, or surrendering in tears during a beautiful concerto.  

But God gave us minds to pair with those bleeding hearts.  And I have no patience for brainless devotion in any of its forms.

The book was exciting, from a travel-guide perspective. Its style tickles the ears, and it is loaded with personality.  But, the most important summarizing paragraphs, those meant to reveal pieces of Truth, only left me wondering, “By what Authority are these conclusions drawn?” I’m not interested in someone’s personal truth, developed around getting what she wants and feeling happy.  I’m one of those “strictly speaking,” close-minded Christians about whom she scoffs in the first chapter. But her beliefs may be simplified in a phrase as well: Moralistic Therapeutic Deism, a religion of comfort and convenience.

How is my uncompromising doctrine worse than wishy-washy self-indulgence?

Jesus cannot be both the only way (as He claimed) and one of many ways (as Gilbert would prefer). I want to know if Jesus was the Lord or just a liar. And, if He is Lord, then I want Him to tell me whether I should be happy in my house or stay married to my husband or have a brood of kids...  I want real answers, straight from THE Answer, even if His will turns out less gratifying than twirling pasta by the sea in Italy.

I'm glad Miss Gilbert enjoyed her search  for "herself."
But she is not the god whose will concerns me.

Who Will Take Care of the Crack Babies?

Watch Penn Jillette talk about self-government and charity, with Glenn Beck...



Libertarianism, volunteerism, and taking care of the crack babies....these men cover various branches of my favorite topic: personal responsibility.  

Jillette:  Even if you aren't a dope smoker, having it legal is better...it will save you money, and--

Beck: Yeah, but here's the problem with that. Because, I agree with you, but you would have to conquer something else...  You would have to convince people who are trying to save the world to take a step over the body of the guy who is killing himself with drugs. You have to be able to say...to butcher Franklin..."You have to allow people to fail." 

Several times now, I've asked "What is the root of neediness?" and "Where's the line between meeting those needs and enabling poor choices?" At some point, we must allow people to fail--which will be better for them in the long run than endlessly cushioning the consequences. However, the government isn't good at tough love. Uncle Sam only invests piles and piles money of money he doesn't have, to save the people who won't even save themselves.

But what about those who can't save themselves?  What about the crack babies?

Jillette:  I have a good friend in Las Vegas... He wants to be a Libertarian, but he says to me, "Who's going to take care of the crack babies?" And my answer is: you. 


Beck: Right.


Jillette: Not someone like you. The guy I'm talking to, it's actually you. You have the money to take care of the crack babies in Vegas. You're a philanthropist. You do it. And he goes, "Well, you know, other people wouldn't do it..."  No! But you would!


---
These guys cover "service" on both sides of the Responsibility Spectrum. What happens when someone self-destructs?  We must expect him to take responsibility for himself, and step over him if he won't. What's to be done about _(the disabled, the very young, the very old...)_who cannot take care of themselves?

I'll do it.

Will you?

A Letter From Star Parker

Police escorted me across campus to protect me from radical black liberals who came out to protest my speech at Texas A&M University the other night. Sadly, these are the next generation of black leaders, the indoctrinated supporters of Obama.
Because of the outcry against my presence on campus, some people wanted to cancel my speech, or refuse to let the protestors into the lecture hall. But on the front lines of the battle, we can't back down. So I let them in along with everyone else who wanted to hear why on earth a black woman would be a conservative.
With scorn and disrespect, the protestors gathered to their seats in the back of the hall, stood up and immediately turned their backs to me. The hall was tense with disagreement and the possibility of a violent outbreak. You could have heard a pin drop, but I wasn’t about to give them the silent treatment that they gave me.
Moments like this are the opportunities to say what I desperately wish that someone had said to me at their age, before I signed up to live on the government plantation and watched my life spiral out of control over seven miserable years.
I decided, I'm going to try to reach them with everything in me. I will tell my story, and I will tell the story of hundreds of thousands of black Americans who bought the lie of the Left. Then I will show them the sweet redemptive power of God’s intervention in my life that showed me the only way to live is a life of personal responsibility. And I told them how big government is an idol that will destroy their lives and our great country and threatens our freedom, day-by-day, the deeper we're mired in a culture of dependency.


But any black who speaks against Obama is considered a traitor by other blacks, these students were brainwashed to think.
"This president has failed you and all of us," I wanted to shout. I cannot let these young men and women throw away their lives for Obama. His election shouldn't be about his personal popularity and certainly not his race. I wanted them to understand there are real-life consequences to his policies, and in just a year or two, they're going to enter the real world and have to decide: do I want to live in the free world or on the plantation?
I know what they're thinking: "how dare you leave our side!"
The black students talked about Barack Obama, Martin Luther King Jr., and Malcolm X as if they stood for the same ideals because they’re all black! They have tunnel vision because they ignore what Obama is really providing for African-Americans: more blacks unemployed, more black babies aborted, and more black families on food stamps than ever.


They continued to protest, and I saw more clearly than ever how brainwashed they are.
Some people said I looked mad, and I was. These young people who have the ability to think for themselves are going to throw away their lives and destroy the country with their socialist ideas taught by liberal professors who only teach one point of view.


But I know what the real consequences of ivory-tower liberalism look like. Like every inner-city in the nation.
When I lived on welfare, my friends and neighbors were floundering in despair and you could see it in their faces.  You can see it in our inner-cities today. A young man I knew took his own life because there is no hope when you're trapped on the government plantation.


Friend, this is what happens when liberals hold a monopoly on thought on our college campuses and this is why I must go into these leftist strangleholds on freedom and thought. The next campus I’m visiting is UCLA, and I’m asking very strongly for your prayers...
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I happened to find a video of the very speech Parker describes above. (Skip the first 3 minutes--it's just introductions). Does she look angry to you? What do you think of the way she calls the Welfare State the new "plantation?" 



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