People I Owe

I have meant to write for a while now (of course), but this has been on my mind since shortly after my previous post -- esp. related to the "update."
I owe a lot to my friends.

I am thankful for those people in my life who have known me for a long time and, whether for that reason or some other, grant me a large portion of grace.  When I say or do something dumb, they are the ones who say, by word or by deed, or both, "I'm sure you didn't mean [that], do you want another try?"  Whether that is some stupid thing I did, or a poor choice of words -- and, sometimes, very poor.
I would like to believe that, sometimes, it's because the person knows, or believes, or would like to hope, that because I'm smarter than I appear and, given a chance, I can prove it.
But, if I'm honest, at least part of the reason for friends who give me the benefit of the doubt is that people like that are just wonderful, kind, forgiving, people.

"A friend is someone who, when you make a fool of yourself, doesn't think it's a permanent job."

So, to the one who helped me refine what I write here, by asking good, insightful, honest questions,
to those who can sit with my over lunch and put up with meanderings, and sometimes incoherent mutterings, to the guy who listens me say some completely off the wall statements, knowing or not that I actually do have some idea in my head, that might or might not be worth it -- if you recognize yourself in those descriptions or not, if you are my friend, and you've ever had to think, "what in the heck does he mean by that?"  And you still put up with me:

Thank you.

What I've learned

Updated Friday 11 April 2014: Trying to be more clear

I started with an "old" thought.  Someone "challenged" me, quite a while ago now, to defend something I believe without reference to secondary sources.  (That's a bit abstract, and it's doubtful that the person who asked the question would even recognize it as I state it -- maybe, maybe not).

I spent some time thinking about it again recently, and I came to a conclusion: I am not sure I can say a lot about anything without "secondary sources."  If, by that, you mean, knowing only first-hand, and without reference to (potentially biased) intermediaries -- without saying anything on the authority of someone else, logically independent information, free of all bias and interpretation.

Most of my knowledge -- well, at least a great deal of it, comes from teachers, books by authors I trust, experience validated by other people, or just the "say so" of the general population, even generally received tradition.

For that matter, most of what I think, or believe, is of the nature that I received the information "second-hand."  (What would it mean, for example, to base all my knowledge of a foreign language or, more importantly, ancient Latin, on only "primary" knowledge?)

A lot of what I know is due to an external authority, and not directly learned from the "source" -- whatever that means.  The fact of the matter is that is not necessarily a bad thing.

But there is a long historical, philosophical tradition of trying to establish a bias-free compilation of all knowledge: it's called the Enlightenment, or Rationalism.

In broad, categorical, historical terms, the Enlightenment project of establishing an objective, pure knowledge has been demolished.  The idea of knowing separate from any subjective context is fatuous, and futile.  This is one of the main, positive results of post-modernism -- yes, I said "positive."  Although, in excess, it leads to nihilism, the reaction against pure objectivism is a good thing, in my opinion.

That leads to the question of how certain I am of what I believe, and what I think I know, and what is essential, crucial and what there is to be dogmatic about. (Or, "about which to be dogmatic," if you want to avoid ending a sentence with a preposition.)

I don't think it's as difficult as all that, though I understand that it is tough for someone who may've been misled to "trust" -- "once bit, twice shy," as the saying goes.

For that matter, I recently was forced to consider some things I am uncertain about in a new light, given that I've rejected an old "authority," and am wondering with what to replace it.  

This conversation will soon turn religious, but also apologetic in nature.  I'm just posting the beginnings of my train of thought.  I'd love to hear responses from anyone reading this.

Continuation: more to come, with elaboration, and specific examples coming soon.

Jacob and Laban

After a long hiatus, I'm going to pick up blogging again; first, by "finishing" two posts -- from the Old Testament.

Jon Acuff has written about Joseph much better me.  But that is a generation later.

I realized a while ago that I didn't do justice to the story of Laban; I really need to start earlier, though.  When we first meet Laban, he's a nice enough fellow:
To tell Abraham right is another story, but Abraham tells his servant not to find a wife for his son Isaac from among the Canaanites.  A fascinating story in Genesis 24 in it's own right.  Laban doesn't want to send his sister, Rebekah, away too quickly with Abraham's servant -- who could blame him for that?

Then Rebekah gave birth to two sons: Esau and Jacob.  Their story is another whole chapter, but when Esau threatened to kill Jacob, his mom sent him to her brother's home.
Laban decides that his nephew shouldn't work for him for free, so he agrees to let Jacob marry his (younger) daughter, then tricks him into double the seven years, because he married Laban's older daughter -- the trickery and conniving by this family is something to behold.  And it makes me think that "he grasps the heel" did not start merely at birth.  Jacob's name could also be translated "he cheats," which, of course, fits his life perfectly, but so also his mom, and also his uncle.
But this post isn't primarily about Jacob, the focus for now is Laban.  I'm sure somewhere he learned the cheating skills, too, but at the end of the story, he is finally cheated (by his own daughter), and ultimately he and Jacob part in peace, with a covenant between them.

... and that's where this story ran out (a few months ago).

Next I'll write something else, new.

Page 137

I'm writing for NaNoWriMo;will this make it in?  Well, I need fifty-thousand word -- I'm just not sure how, right now.

Across this country there are many times more small towns than big cities, and the bigger cities the fewer of them. Small towns are frequently surrounded by farms big and small, even if the they aren't called “farm communities.” In many of these towns, there are houses owned by people who have lived there longer than I have been alive. In some of these towns, the houses show their age less than you'd expect. In one of these towns, my family has lived for years. In one of those houses, my grandmother lived until I was in college. Looking at it, you'd guess it was older – maybe it's the attic windows, maybe it's the porch... My grandmother always kept a plethora of plants growing there. Walking in, the interior of the place would show the age, and some of the furnishings – the light was almost a chandelier, but in other aspects, the house never seemed to grow old – the carpet has been replaced, and didn't seem out of place, the drop ceiling in the kitchen seemed almost modern, and some of the light fixtures were less than five years old. True, the desk which was not a “centerpiece” but a prominent was almost antique, and there was an old, old, old TV – maybe from the '60s (of course it wasn't used, but covered by an old tablecloth and used only as a plant-stand). The couch was ancient, but the La-Z-Boy newer.

Oddly, the bed in the guestroom upstairs was newer than the one in the primary bedroom just off the living room on the main floor, and the basement was as old as the house, and looked it when you went down there.

Of all my memories of the second floor, they can be summed up in one sentence: a small door on the 2^nd level led to the “attic” – the entire top level of the house. The word gives the impression of a small room, under the peak of the roof, or a closet type room – this was not the case at all. Un-insulated, yes, but given that, a place that was not uninviting to visit. If I close my eyes, I can still smell the odor of mildew and sawdust. Lest I give the wrong impression, it was a comforting and not at all unpleasant; strong, almost pungent, but it was – and is – incredibly familiar, welcoming. Pine wood floors and no cloth covering anything. If I said there was stacks of boxes, it would not be quite the right picture; “stores of treasure” would be more accurate – that's how the five year old remembers it, and the teenage version of me always felt younger there. Piles of old magazines – I distinctly remember Reader's Digest (others would have National Geographic, but not my grandma), dresses and clothes I never understood why they were kept, thick, 78 RPM records – nine inch black plastic LPs, and a portable player. Things I can't remember, but if I close my eyes, I can almost “see” stacked against the walls, and wooden beams holding up the exposed wood interior of the roof. In the center of the room was the hole in the floor which the stairs climbed thru, and there were two or three “paths” thru the junk piled here and there, on the east and the south leading to the windows looking out on the lawn. If you asked today, I couldn't tell you what the attraction was; if you asked me then, I would not been able to articulate it, other than it was grandma's.

It was one of my earliest memories of my attraction to windows; if I could've, I would've sat by any of those windows and stared down from a third floor height at the yard below, a big basswood tree and and old swing-set – sit and stare for hours, if I could. My whole life, I've had this fascination with looking out windows. It doesn't matter what I'm looking at – it doesn't matter if I'm looking at anything at all – I can lose myself for a timeless time...

I say I never understood why some of the junk there was kept – if it's possible that this is genetic, I inherited the same trait: it was impossible for my grandmother to throw anything out. For her, it was a learned trait – she grew up in the Depression; why I got it is beyond me.

Table of Contents

This could serve as a "table of contents" for my "book."  Here is the overview of all those people in the Bible who needed to have their head examined.  This is the raw material that God had to work with in order to create the masterpiece of history -- both the Bible and the grand sweep of the human story.
    I already mentioned the original sibling rivalry; then there was Noah's sons, Abraham and Sarah (and Hagar), and Abraham and Lot (I wrote it wrong last time -- not brothers but uncle and nephew), and Jacob (Isaac's son) "and two women," and Esau; Joseph, the 2nd youngest of the twelve sons of Israel (formerly Jacob).  
    Telling the short list to my friends last night (early December -- sorry I haven't written more sooner!), one mentioned Laban.  Jacob -- the name means "he deceives" -- first tricked Esau, then ran to his uncle, part of the story is what Rich Mullins sang about.

Now Jacob got two women and a whole house full of kids
And he schemed his way back to the promised land
And he finds it's one thing to win 'em
And it's another to keep 'em content
When he knows that he is only just one man

But Laban played Jacob, too.  It's hard for me to feel sorry for either one.
    Then there's King David (as I've already written).  Quite a few of the kings, even the good kings, had issues...
    There must be a separate category for Hosea, whom God told to go marry a prostitute; then, when she went back to "the trade," God called told him to go buy her back.  (Even if you don't read the whole book -- and it's short! -- go read the first four chapters!)
But what do you do with Isaiah, whom God made mute for a time?  There must be another chapter for the strange stories -- Ezekiel in the valley of the dry bones, and the Spirit of God picked up a prophet by the hair, or was it more than once? and the angel told two men to eat books (scrolls), and some of the dreams were just weird: pharoah dreaming of seven famine starved cows coming out of the Nile and eating seven fat cows!!
    Then, back to the wackos, the twelve disciples of Jesus: the sons of thunder, John and Peter and a tax-collector and a zealot (think IRS agent, but worse* and a Tea Party activist, but worse*).  And the story of Paul and John-Mark, which I'm sure has other explanations, but seems off and wrong, and I wonder how many more I can find.


What do you think?  Do you have a nomination for the oddest behavior in the Bible? or the strangest 'character'?
Want me to write a particular story?  Leave a comment

King David

So God picks the runt of the litter, and the prophet Samuel might've thought, "well, God does do things differently, so I'll anoint him and let God take care of him."
Saul is jealous of his victories.  So he keeps him close.  Jonathan and his father don't quite see eye to eye on this young upstart.  Saul fears him, then let's him marry his daughter (with a bride price of one hundred Philistine foreskins!!!), then he tries to kill him.  Did I mention the family fued between father and son?  Jonathan helps David escape.
Then there's the episode with Abigail:

David and his men camped near Nabal (one translation describes him simply by saying he "was harsh and behaved badly.") so David sent his men to greet him on a feast day and said, "look, we've been good neighbors, would you share some of your bounty?"  (Not out of character for that time!)  But Nabal rebuffs his request.  Then his servants go to his wife and say, "do you know that your husband is treating these men poorly, but they're good to have around."
David and company were on their way to attack; David said, "so much for being the nice guy.  I'll kill 'em all!"
But Abigail came and brought a peace offering, and said, "Don't mind him, he's a fool just like his name [his name is literally translated "fool"].  Here, let's not fight today."  And David relented.
Although she didn't tell her husband during the party he was throwing, the next morning, when he was sober, Abigail told Nabal all that had gone on, and he fainted dead away.  Ten days later, he died.
So David also married Abigail.  The last verses of chapter 25 of I Samuel records this, matter-of-factly:

And Abigail hurried and rose and mounted a donkey, and her five young women attended her.  She followed the messengers of David and became his wife.  David also took Ahinoam of Jezreel, and both of them became his wives.  Saul had given Michal his daughter, David's wife, to Palti the son of Laish, who was of Gallim.

 (There's a line in a song by Rich Mullins, I quoted once to a friend, "well it's right there in the Bible, so it must not be a sin, but it sure does seem like an awful dirty trick."  I was not serious then, nor was Rich, and it refers to another story, worth writing, too, but there you go -- it's right there in the Bible.)

Then it takes a soap opera to make David king after Saul dies.

The story goes on an on, but what, you may ask, is the point?  The point is that when God wrote the story, He had to work with what He had.  And all He had -- or has -- to work with is flawed, faulty human beings.  Such is the stuff of this life.  More, God is no more surprised by the short-comings of us humans today than He was back then. When I have to deal with whackos -- all too often, I think -- it's good to know that God does understand; He's had to deal with the same insanity, the same craziness, the same disorders as I do.  "Disorders" -- from the prefix "dis," which means separated from (dis-connected, dis-jointed, dis-eased); separated from order.  That is a great definition.

Shocking Stories

So two kings met to go to war; the one suggested they inquire of the seers -- all but one suggested they would be victorious.  He warned one of the others that he would know who was telling the truth when he (the one who said they would win) was hiding in the bathroom.
The second king said, "you go to battle dressed in royal robes, but I'm going in disguise."
But the enemy had said, "don't kill anyone but the evil king."  (That would be the second one).  The soldiers were going to attack the first one until he cried out, and they knew he wasn't the one they were after.  However, one archer shot an arrow at random and it hit and killed the second king.
He rode his chariot home, but died outside the city wall.
What would you think if I said this story was taken straight from the Bible?  See I Kings 22
I even left out some of the interesting aspects of the story.

Tim Hansel writes, in his book Holy Sweat, "Many of us have one of two basic problems with Scripture reading.  One is that many of us are unfamiliar with the Scriptures. [...]  The second problem is much more subtle and dangerous---we can become too familiar with the Bible's stories and characters so that they no longer astound us."  He lists some of the shocking stories

• In the opening pages of Scripture, amidst the stupendous flourish of creation, we are told that the culmination of all God's artistic ecstacy is that he created man---in his image, no less . . . out of dirt.  A moral agent out of mud.  [emphasis mine]

• He chooses a barren, grumpy old couple named Abraham and Sarah to give birth to a nation that would change human history for all time.  Can't you see Sarah laughing in her 90-year-old apron?

I quote at length because I can't say it better myself

• Then he decides to save this unique nation from captivity through an unemployed Egyptian-Israelite prince who tends sheep and stutters.  He reveals himself to the man through a scrub bush.  And later he puts the Red Sea on dry cycle long enough to allow this ungrateful nation to cross.

• He chooses a teenager who doesn't even have his high school diploma yet to nail a nine-foot enemy right between the eyes with a rock.  The boy grows up to become "a man after God's own heart"---even though the man pulls off one of the biggest blunders in the Old Testament.

That list is incredibly short, and it goes on (later):

The New Testament opens with the most flabbergasting incident of all time---that same Author of creation decided to reveal himself by being born . . . in a barn . . . to a virgin.  Later he set about astounding those around him:

• He took a trusting kid's leftover lunch and fed enough people to fill the Hollywood Bowl and still had enough left over for each of the disciples to have his own take-home basket.  Can you imagine what they were thinking and how these men felt on the way home?
  

• He outrageously shocked, surprised, and exasperated the religious community o the time, the Pharisees.  When the brought him a woman caught in adultery, he wrote something in the dirt and asked the sinless to throw the first stone.  When they dared him to break the Sabbath laws, he did so while quoting Scripture.
  

• The went to parties with people of questionable social standing and morality, and threw "respectable" tradesmen from the temple's steps.  He called Herod "that fox," and was himself looked upon as "a wine bibber and a glutton, a friend of outcasts and sinners."
  

• Rather than sharing the news of who he really was the the proper authorities, he revealed who he really is to a . . . Samaritan . . . woman who had had a handful of husbands and lovers.  Doesn't that at least confuse your prayer life?
  

• He chose the number one persecutor of his followers to become his top evangelist.  And then he gave the keys to the kingdom to the disciple who failed him so badly he denied him three times in one night.  [ed.: with cursing]

Does it sound like my book is already written?  Not by a long shot, but I include that full quote -- most of that is direct quote, but for a few lines -- because I want to awaken people to the outlandish aspects of the Bible.  (I recommend the entire book, by the way, or anything else written by Tim Hansel.)

I'll demonstrate with David next...