This weekend marked the first camp meeting weekend in Kamantian. Over the last 4 years outreach has expanded to surrounding villages and to the lowlands. About 150 people from these churches made their way to Kamantian, and worshiped God under the stars, and with the surroundings of palm tree's and mountains.
I was in charge of recording audio, and Danelle and I had special music one night. The meetings started early (5:30 a.m.) and ended late (10:00 p.m.) though they didn't go all day long. There was singing, testimonies, and mini sermons. The testimonies explained how they arrived at the decision for baptism, and sometimes these could be extremely long winded. This surprised me because many of the people speaking seemed really shy, but they warmed up, told some jokes, and then kept going and going. The batteries in my audio recorder couldn't keep up and I had to change them multiple times (they weren't energizers).
However the camp meeting was a huge success. Some people who don't normally attend church attended the camp meetings, and their was in general, a feeling of happiness because of the fellowship. The longevity was ok because I could space off and look at the stars. I saw multiple shooting stars and pointed out some of the more interesting ones to Danelle. We were amazed at the way they would shoot and even curve across the sky...but upon further observation Danelle informed me that these twirling “shooting stars” were actually fire flies*. In my defense I didn't have my glasses on.
The highlight of the weekend was Saturday night. We finished a day of sermons, baptisms, and singing with a communion service. Communion is the example that Jesus gave his disciples on how to be a servant and be in constant communion with God (Jn 13-1-17; Mt 26:26-30).
Jesus washed his disciples feet, exemplifying that He came to serve, not to be served onto (Mt 20:28). In like manner we washed one another's feet. Family's separated into groups, I washed Danelle's feet, she washed mine and then we prayed together. It really was a special night for everyone. There was torches set up in a semi octagon, looking at the scene from a distance gave a really awesome perspective. Perched on the narrow ridge of a mountain side was a circle of fire with about 150 people within it, all of them acknowledging their creator while they worshiped Him under the stars. It is one of the memories that will be etched into my mind from our time here in Kamantian.
The night was completed with the drinking of coconut juice which symbolized Christ dying for us. Jesus, the literal creator of the universe actually went through the birthing process and humbled himself even further to being crucified on a cross. This is hard for me to wrap my mind around, but sometimes, “Truth is stranger than fiction.” We have life because Christ gave His blood. This may be in part why Leviticus 17:11 says, “Life is in the blood.” Typically this is symbolized with grape juice, but in this Philippine jungle coconut juice was a fitting substitute.
Communion represents connection with God. We stay connected through prayer, through reflection, and by following His example of servant hood. Having communion was an excellent way to end the camp meeting weekend. The first of what I hope will become an annual event in Kamantian.
*An interesting side note is the spiritualistic superstition surrounding fire flies. Palawano's believe that firefly's mark the graves of the deceased. Maybe this is why they don't collect them, and put them in jars like kids in the states do.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
The Hiding Place
Here in Kamantian our home is our fortress and place of escape. Returning from a long day of teaching or seeing patients we can enter our home and give a sigh, because we have entered our place of refuge. Lately however our home has been under attack, snakes, spiders, and rats have infiltrated our stronghold and our mosquito net has become the only seemingly safe place remaining. But in the last month even this has been compromised, pesky cockroaches have made there way into our bed, and Danelle likes sleeping with them even less than I do. However some heavy duty cleaning and poisoning has cut down on the perilous pestilence and we are optimistic we can have peace once again. I hope so because although I can sleep with some creepy crawlies crawling on me, Danelle can't...and when she can't, I can't either.
When I was younger I often had a hard time falling asleep. Many times when I couldn't sleep, I would slip quietly out the door, and walk the short distance from my house to the beach. I loved hearing the waves roll in and closing my eyes to better experience the sensation of the cool ocean breeze. This was my time, a secret time, devoid of the cares and concerns of the world. Because of this I didn't mind if I couldn't sleep, I had a place of refuge.
I have always enjoyed the stillness of complete quiet. When I return to my parents home in Port Hardy, this quiet is noticeably profound. Not everyone enjoys this sort of quiet, and some people find it down right eerie. I heard recently of a football player from U.S.C who said, “Nothing scares me, I am not afraid of death, there is only one thing I can't handle...quiet.” I don't know why this bothered him, but the implication may be that in the stillness God speaks, and he didn't like what his conscience was telling him.
When God made Himself known to Elijah He was not in the whirlwind, the fire, or the earthquake...He presented himself to Elijah in a still small voice (1 Kings 19:11-12). The voice that speaks to our conscience is not the adversary, responding to this prompting leads to righteousness. And, “The fruit of righteousness will be peace; the effect of righteousness will be quietness and confidence forever” (Is 32:17).
Forever? What about now, like when a spouse or child dies, is it possible to still have peace then? Quiet, detached of righteousness is not peaceful. There is the dreadful quiet just before a storm, and then there is the suffocating quiet immediately after it. Imagine what it must have been like in Europe during the World Wars. Imagine walking hand in hand with your lover, looking at the stars and then seeing a bomber plane fly overhead. The momentary quiet becomes intense..., and then the sound of sirens and chaos as you run, still hand in hand, to the nearest bomb shelter. Imagine poking your head out of the shelter, listening to the deafening quiet after the bombings and thinking your the only ones left alive.
Death and destruction devoid of hope is prolonged torture, there is no peace from the ashes of this sort of quiet. But having faith in God brings hope, and this hope gives a confidence that can be obtained now. Its forever, and like a marriage covenant, this promise stands in the good times and the bad, in sickness and in health. Even in the quiet, before and after the storm there is a hiding place to which we can turn.
The Hiding Place is also the name of a book and movie that documents the Corrie Ten Boom story and the horrors of being a Jew during World War II. The book describes how Corrie and her sister hid Jews from the Germans, but the deeper meaning of the title is about finding refuge in God in a time of trouble. Psalms 32:7 corresponds, “You are my hiding place; You shall preserve me from trouble; You shall surround me with songs of deliverance.” There is a hymn with this same title, that I have grown to love while here in the Philippines. The piano part to this song is enchanting and the melody fits these words perfectly:
In a time of trouble, in a time forlorn.
There is a hiding place where hope is born.
There is a hiding place, a strong protective space
Where God provides the grace, to persevere;
For nothing can remove us from the Father's love,
Tho' all may change, yet nothing changes here.
In a time of sorrow, in a time of grief.
There is a hiding place to give relief.
When I was younger I often had a hard time falling asleep. Many times when I couldn't sleep, I would slip quietly out the door, and walk the short distance from my house to the beach. I loved hearing the waves roll in and closing my eyes to better experience the sensation of the cool ocean breeze. This was my time, a secret time, devoid of the cares and concerns of the world. Because of this I didn't mind if I couldn't sleep, I had a place of refuge.
I have always enjoyed the stillness of complete quiet. When I return to my parents home in Port Hardy, this quiet is noticeably profound. Not everyone enjoys this sort of quiet, and some people find it down right eerie. I heard recently of a football player from U.S.C who said, “Nothing scares me, I am not afraid of death, there is only one thing I can't handle...quiet.” I don't know why this bothered him, but the implication may be that in the stillness God speaks, and he didn't like what his conscience was telling him.
When God made Himself known to Elijah He was not in the whirlwind, the fire, or the earthquake...He presented himself to Elijah in a still small voice (1 Kings 19:11-12). The voice that speaks to our conscience is not the adversary, responding to this prompting leads to righteousness. And, “The fruit of righteousness will be peace; the effect of righteousness will be quietness and confidence forever” (Is 32:17).
Forever? What about now, like when a spouse or child dies, is it possible to still have peace then? Quiet, detached of righteousness is not peaceful. There is the dreadful quiet just before a storm, and then there is the suffocating quiet immediately after it. Imagine what it must have been like in Europe during the World Wars. Imagine walking hand in hand with your lover, looking at the stars and then seeing a bomber plane fly overhead. The momentary quiet becomes intense..., and then the sound of sirens and chaos as you run, still hand in hand, to the nearest bomb shelter. Imagine poking your head out of the shelter, listening to the deafening quiet after the bombings and thinking your the only ones left alive.
Death and destruction devoid of hope is prolonged torture, there is no peace from the ashes of this sort of quiet. But having faith in God brings hope, and this hope gives a confidence that can be obtained now. Its forever, and like a marriage covenant, this promise stands in the good times and the bad, in sickness and in health. Even in the quiet, before and after the storm there is a hiding place to which we can turn.
The Hiding Place is also the name of a book and movie that documents the Corrie Ten Boom story and the horrors of being a Jew during World War II. The book describes how Corrie and her sister hid Jews from the Germans, but the deeper meaning of the title is about finding refuge in God in a time of trouble. Psalms 32:7 corresponds, “You are my hiding place; You shall preserve me from trouble; You shall surround me with songs of deliverance.” There is a hymn with this same title, that I have grown to love while here in the Philippines. The piano part to this song is enchanting and the melody fits these words perfectly:
In a time of trouble, in a time forlorn.
There is a hiding place where hope is born.
There is a hiding place, a strong protective space
Where God provides the grace, to persevere;
For nothing can remove us from the Father's love,
Tho' all may change, yet nothing changes here.
In a time of sorrow, in a time of grief.
There is a hiding place to give relief.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Nurses Wanted
This year is really flying by. It's funny how time works. Days go by slowly here. Even thought they are cram packed. But weeks! Weeks fly by. Maybe it's because there are always pin points in a week. Sundays are just crazy. Especially for the nurses. Monday there is team meeting in the evening, Tuesday we usually have the evening to ourselves, Wednesday is prayer meeting, Thursday is pretty quiet usually in the evenings, then Friday vespers either in the church or with SM's, then Sabbath. Weeks fly. It makes months between speed. But as of now, we only have about 3 ½ months left. That's crazy. Time has really flown by. I want to thank all of the sponsors that we have, both prayer and also financial. You really have made it possible for many good things to happen. I want to also thank sponsors in general who sponsor missions. How cool to think about how many people you can help reach through that. It's really quite a cool way for God to use people.
Michelle, the nurse I work with is leaving in June. Brian, the other nurse is over in another village called Emrang, about a 2 hour hike away. He is able to come over sometimes, but he's got quite a bit of things to do over there. So in June, I'm hoping I won't be the only nurse here.
This week, Michelle has been on vacation. And I know people have done it before, but being the only nurse is crazy. Especially if you're sick yourself. There's no backup. Last Sunday I saw 53 patients which is normal for a Sunday. Brian came from Emrang and helped too, he was my pharmacist. I pulled Kevin and another SM Ben in for back up as well. My workers weren't there. I don't know how many people a doctor's office schedules in one day, but the nice thing about a doctors office is you have the secretary to check you in, the nurse or medical assistant to get you into the room and do your vitals, then the doctor comes and sees you. There's not even a pharmacy. They just write the prescription and send you to the pharmacy.
Well here, we do everything. We check people in and get them on the list, it's first come first serve, we weigh them, take there temperature and then we pull their chart. Pulling a chart is a process in itself, most of the very locals and regulars are no problem, but in Palawan people have nicknames and they won't remember that they have 2 names. So when they were a patient for the first time they give us a name that goes on the chart, they deny having a nickname, then months or years later, they come with another name and insist that they don't have a nickname. So you go through the route of asking who their mother is, what about their father, do they have siblings, are they married now and finally when you read off a couple of options that could be them, they say “yeah that's me” as if it was a “duh” kind of thing. It can be quite time consuming. Then they wait. Sometimes a worker can do this for us if they come or are there that day. Lately we haven't had them very steadily. Then we see person by person, take the rest of their vitals, assess them, diagnose them, then we go into our med prep room and prepare all of the meds in a way that is easy for people who don't know how to read to understand. We can't just hand them a bottle with a bunch of pills in it, we have a very good knot system with baggies and can put the meds they need to take in the morning in one knot, the ones at noon in the next knot and etc. Or we measure the amount of syrup or whatever and mark a syringe. Or we crush meds and make our own suspension. It works very well, but it's very time consuming to prep meds. So you can see that having even 16 patients is a steady day. So the Sundays when there are usually at least 30 more like 50 most of the time, it is impossible to do it all by yourself.
I was talking with another SM the other day and we were wondering what it would be like for 1 week with absolutley no missionaries here. It's for certain that without the clinic, people would die. Even in 1 week. Mostly young kids with Malaria who don't get treatment right away, but a few years ago, a middle aged lady died too. Or septic babies that are newly born. Just as I read over this blog and am getting ready to send it, there was a very powerful experience that involved a spiritual battle and physical battle with a young 18 year old mother, wife, and fairly new christian. I'm just coming off of a 24 hour shift. But God is good and gives victory through Christ. Hopefully, another blog will be posted soon about this experience.
There's another nurse who was here. Her name is Joha. The people here love her. They are always asking when she is coming back. She is the one who trained us in. She left to go back to the States so that she could raise money for at least a second year here. We were hoping she would beable to come back by January or February, but funds are difficult for her to raise. Now our “faith date” is around May 17. As of now, she still has about $4.000 to raise in a little less than a month. Pray for this.
The thing that I'm really scared of is that she won't be able to pull all of her funds even by the time I leave which is the end of July. During this time the George's will also be gone on furlough. That leaves Kiana, who is a teacher here, maybe Carrine, the accountant/assistant, and Napthali, another teacher/maintanance guy. There would be Brian, who would have to run back and forth from Emrang and Kemantian making the number of people we see in a week very trimmed down.
So, I guess the purpose of this blog is a little bit of a fundraiser for Joha. Also for the sake of the clinic here that sees thousands of people a year and treats thousands of cases of malaria a year plus more. If you would like to help you can do so through AFMs website. You should be able to search for her name and choose to contribute to her. You can also do it by mail, being sure to make the check out to AFM with a separate note saying who you'd like to donate to. Her name is Johanelly Estrella. The link to AFM's website is on our blog to the side. You can find the address there, the phone number there, or, if you have previously sponsored, and receive monthly magazines, you can also find the information there.
It is urgent to see her here before I leave. Even more wonderful if on our “faith date” she could come. Thank you again so much for your support. Lives are changing because of it. Including mine.
Michelle, the nurse I work with is leaving in June. Brian, the other nurse is over in another village called Emrang, about a 2 hour hike away. He is able to come over sometimes, but he's got quite a bit of things to do over there. So in June, I'm hoping I won't be the only nurse here.
This week, Michelle has been on vacation. And I know people have done it before, but being the only nurse is crazy. Especially if you're sick yourself. There's no backup. Last Sunday I saw 53 patients which is normal for a Sunday. Brian came from Emrang and helped too, he was my pharmacist. I pulled Kevin and another SM Ben in for back up as well. My workers weren't there. I don't know how many people a doctor's office schedules in one day, but the nice thing about a doctors office is you have the secretary to check you in, the nurse or medical assistant to get you into the room and do your vitals, then the doctor comes and sees you. There's not even a pharmacy. They just write the prescription and send you to the pharmacy.
Well here, we do everything. We check people in and get them on the list, it's first come first serve, we weigh them, take there temperature and then we pull their chart. Pulling a chart is a process in itself, most of the very locals and regulars are no problem, but in Palawan people have nicknames and they won't remember that they have 2 names. So when they were a patient for the first time they give us a name that goes on the chart, they deny having a nickname, then months or years later, they come with another name and insist that they don't have a nickname. So you go through the route of asking who their mother is, what about their father, do they have siblings, are they married now and finally when you read off a couple of options that could be them, they say “yeah that's me” as if it was a “duh” kind of thing. It can be quite time consuming. Then they wait. Sometimes a worker can do this for us if they come or are there that day. Lately we haven't had them very steadily. Then we see person by person, take the rest of their vitals, assess them, diagnose them, then we go into our med prep room and prepare all of the meds in a way that is easy for people who don't know how to read to understand. We can't just hand them a bottle with a bunch of pills in it, we have a very good knot system with baggies and can put the meds they need to take in the morning in one knot, the ones at noon in the next knot and etc. Or we measure the amount of syrup or whatever and mark a syringe. Or we crush meds and make our own suspension. It works very well, but it's very time consuming to prep meds. So you can see that having even 16 patients is a steady day. So the Sundays when there are usually at least 30 more like 50 most of the time, it is impossible to do it all by yourself.
I was talking with another SM the other day and we were wondering what it would be like for 1 week with absolutley no missionaries here. It's for certain that without the clinic, people would die. Even in 1 week. Mostly young kids with Malaria who don't get treatment right away, but a few years ago, a middle aged lady died too. Or septic babies that are newly born. Just as I read over this blog and am getting ready to send it, there was a very powerful experience that involved a spiritual battle and physical battle with a young 18 year old mother, wife, and fairly new christian. I'm just coming off of a 24 hour shift. But God is good and gives victory through Christ. Hopefully, another blog will be posted soon about this experience.
There's another nurse who was here. Her name is Joha. The people here love her. They are always asking when she is coming back. She is the one who trained us in. She left to go back to the States so that she could raise money for at least a second year here. We were hoping she would beable to come back by January or February, but funds are difficult for her to raise. Now our “faith date” is around May 17. As of now, she still has about $4.000 to raise in a little less than a month. Pray for this.
The thing that I'm really scared of is that she won't be able to pull all of her funds even by the time I leave which is the end of July. During this time the George's will also be gone on furlough. That leaves Kiana, who is a teacher here, maybe Carrine, the accountant/assistant, and Napthali, another teacher/maintanance guy. There would be Brian, who would have to run back and forth from Emrang and Kemantian making the number of people we see in a week very trimmed down.
So, I guess the purpose of this blog is a little bit of a fundraiser for Joha. Also for the sake of the clinic here that sees thousands of people a year and treats thousands of cases of malaria a year plus more. If you would like to help you can do so through AFMs website. You should be able to search for her name and choose to contribute to her. You can also do it by mail, being sure to make the check out to AFM with a separate note saying who you'd like to donate to. Her name is Johanelly Estrella. The link to AFM's website is on our blog to the side. You can find the address there, the phone number there, or, if you have previously sponsored, and receive monthly magazines, you can also find the information there.
It is urgent to see her here before I leave. Even more wonderful if on our “faith date” she could come. Thank you again so much for your support. Lives are changing because of it. Including mine.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Thoughts about Thinking
There was no school this last week so I had more time to read and write. And after writing my last blog about flatulence, I thought something a little more philosophical might be appropriate.
I love going for walks at night and turning of my light to look up at the stars. The overwhelming feeling of my smallness as I look up at the galactic vastness, is strangely comforting to me. This was the feeling that I was contemplating tonight while I looked up at the cosmos, in the dark of the night, from the other side of the world.
C.S. Lewis described this feeling as being drawn to an understanding that there must be something more to life than eventual and inevitable death. In the book The Question of God: it is explained that Lewis credited this drawing and longing for purpose as being the spark that changed him from an atheist to a Christian.
The philosophy of science has gone through some radical changes in the last two centuries. Inspiration of knowledge has transformed from Issac Newton's, “Oh God! I think thy thoughts after thee” To Steven Hawkins, “The human race is just a chemical scum on a moderate sized planet, orbiting around a very average star in the outer suburbs of one among hundreds of billions of galaxies.”1 In either view one can't help but feel small, ironically “Steven Hawking now occupies the same chair at Cambridge that Sir Issac Newton did” 2
In,The Meaning of Life, Steven J Gould explains:
"We are here because one odd group of fishes had a peculiar fin anatomy that could transform into legs for terrestrial creatures. Because comets struck the earth and wiped out dinosaurs thereby giving mammals a chance not otherwise available, so thank your lucky stars in a literal sense. Because the earth never froze completely during an ice age. Because a small and tenuous species arising in Africa a quarter of a million years ago has managed so far to survive by hook and by crook. We may yearn for a higher answer but none exists. This explanation though superficially troubling,if not terrifying,is ultimately liberating and exciting."3
Evolution like Christianity is a philosophy. For me there are only two choices. Either there is no “higher answer” and God does not exist. Or what the bible says is true, there is One God who is the creator and redeemer of the world. Two choices, chance or design. Interestingly either view can be construed as dogmatic.
In this age of postmodern relativism any absolute is politically incorrect. What bothers me is that Christianity seems to be the targeted philosophy. Evolution is recognized as science and fact, but it is philosophical and calling it science turns it into a tautology (something that is true by definition). By definition alone evolution becomes “true”, natural explanations are found because they are the only explanations that can be given because the supernatural is not even allowed into the equation. There either is a higher answer, or as Gould dogmatically asserts, there is not. Both views are philosophical but when it comes to the question of origins they absolutely cannot be united. Doing so is like trying to make a “squircle”4 (making a square circle) its impossible.
Longing for a higher answer is not proof that there is one, but it does offer some evidence. If all we are “is just chemical scum” then why are we appalled at rape, murder, and child abuse. Why are we good at all? Maybe its because humanity isn't “chemical scum” and in our hearts is written a desire for a higher morality (Heb 10:16).Perhaps this desire acts as a moral compass, directing us North, upward to the place where the Almighty dwells (Job 37:22).
Like the psalmist David, when I consider the heavens I can't help but think to God, “What is man that you are mindful of him” (Ps 8:4). Secular cosmologists give a good explanation of this verse with something called the “Anthropic principle”5 that is, it appears the universe had man in mind. As was Lewis, I am drawn to God by a seemingly implanted desire for purpose, and when I look at the Cosmo's its as if I become filled to the brim with it.
Evangelist David Assherick in a lecture called Does God Exist and Does it Matter says:
In the last 50 years the incredible discoveries that are being made about the universe are demonstrating convincingly to many astrophysicists and cosmologists that God is in the mix somewhere. There is no less than 15 major, preeminent figures in the world of cosmology that have converted to Christianity in the last 20 years. Not based on some evangelistic series, but based on their study of the cosmos.6
Many people without actually reading the bible believe what they are told, that it is nothing more than fables. The higher critics pick and choose what parts are conceivable and what parts must, by way of implausibility, be false. But maybe, “Truth is stranger than fiction”7, and the “Good Book” is still good, because it is still true. “We all need to believe in something. Some choose evolution, some choose Jesus. The biggest myth, however, is to think you can choose both.”8
I am not attempting to answer questions in this blog, but I am encouraging all who may be reading to think and to seek answers. Historian Will Durant says, “If you make people think they are thinking they will love you. But if you make people think, they will hate you.”9 Jesus had a tendency to make people think, and he was definitely hated. In Jn 14:6 Jesus says, “I am the way, and the truth and the life, no one comes to the father except through me.” Not exactly a politically correct statement! However what he said is either absolutely true or absolutely false. There are only two choices, on this point the bible, and famous American poet Robert Frost, agree:
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference
1.Quoted in Clifford Goldstein, God, Godel, and Grace (Review and Herald, 2003) pp.25,26
2.Clifford Goldstein, God, Godel, and Grace (Review and Herald, 2003) p.25
3.Quoted in David Asscherick lecture, Evolution and the Emperors New Clothes (www.audioverse.com, 2004)
4.Quoted in David Asscherick lecture, Pascal's Wager (www.audioverse.com, 2004)
5.Quoted in David Asscherick lecture, Does God Exist and Does it Matter (www.audioverse.com, 2004)
6.Quoted in David Asscherick lecture, Does God Exist and Does it Matter (www.audioverse.com, 2004)
7.Murray McGill, Dead Birds Don't Sing but Witching Rods Talk (Remnant Publications, coming soon 2010) Ch 32
8.Clifford Goldstein The Myth of Progressive Faith (Signs of the Times, September, 2001)
9.Quoted in David Asscherick, Evolution and the Emperors New Clothes (www.audioverse.com, 2004)
I love going for walks at night and turning of my light to look up at the stars. The overwhelming feeling of my smallness as I look up at the galactic vastness, is strangely comforting to me. This was the feeling that I was contemplating tonight while I looked up at the cosmos, in the dark of the night, from the other side of the world.
C.S. Lewis described this feeling as being drawn to an understanding that there must be something more to life than eventual and inevitable death. In the book The Question of God: it is explained that Lewis credited this drawing and longing for purpose as being the spark that changed him from an atheist to a Christian.
The philosophy of science has gone through some radical changes in the last two centuries. Inspiration of knowledge has transformed from Issac Newton's, “Oh God! I think thy thoughts after thee” To Steven Hawkins, “The human race is just a chemical scum on a moderate sized planet, orbiting around a very average star in the outer suburbs of one among hundreds of billions of galaxies.”1 In either view one can't help but feel small, ironically “Steven Hawking now occupies the same chair at Cambridge that Sir Issac Newton did” 2
In,The Meaning of Life, Steven J Gould explains:
"We are here because one odd group of fishes had a peculiar fin anatomy that could transform into legs for terrestrial creatures. Because comets struck the earth and wiped out dinosaurs thereby giving mammals a chance not otherwise available, so thank your lucky stars in a literal sense. Because the earth never froze completely during an ice age. Because a small and tenuous species arising in Africa a quarter of a million years ago has managed so far to survive by hook and by crook. We may yearn for a higher answer but none exists. This explanation though superficially troubling,if not terrifying,is ultimately liberating and exciting."3
Evolution like Christianity is a philosophy. For me there are only two choices. Either there is no “higher answer” and God does not exist. Or what the bible says is true, there is One God who is the creator and redeemer of the world. Two choices, chance or design. Interestingly either view can be construed as dogmatic.
In this age of postmodern relativism any absolute is politically incorrect. What bothers me is that Christianity seems to be the targeted philosophy. Evolution is recognized as science and fact, but it is philosophical and calling it science turns it into a tautology (something that is true by definition). By definition alone evolution becomes “true”, natural explanations are found because they are the only explanations that can be given because the supernatural is not even allowed into the equation. There either is a higher answer, or as Gould dogmatically asserts, there is not. Both views are philosophical but when it comes to the question of origins they absolutely cannot be united. Doing so is like trying to make a “squircle”4 (making a square circle) its impossible.
Longing for a higher answer is not proof that there is one, but it does offer some evidence. If all we are “is just chemical scum” then why are we appalled at rape, murder, and child abuse. Why are we good at all? Maybe its because humanity isn't “chemical scum” and in our hearts is written a desire for a higher morality (Heb 10:16).Perhaps this desire acts as a moral compass, directing us North, upward to the place where the Almighty dwells (Job 37:22).
Like the psalmist David, when I consider the heavens I can't help but think to God, “What is man that you are mindful of him” (Ps 8:4). Secular cosmologists give a good explanation of this verse with something called the “Anthropic principle”5 that is, it appears the universe had man in mind. As was Lewis, I am drawn to God by a seemingly implanted desire for purpose, and when I look at the Cosmo's its as if I become filled to the brim with it.
Evangelist David Assherick in a lecture called Does God Exist and Does it Matter says:
In the last 50 years the incredible discoveries that are being made about the universe are demonstrating convincingly to many astrophysicists and cosmologists that God is in the mix somewhere. There is no less than 15 major, preeminent figures in the world of cosmology that have converted to Christianity in the last 20 years. Not based on some evangelistic series, but based on their study of the cosmos.6
Many people without actually reading the bible believe what they are told, that it is nothing more than fables. The higher critics pick and choose what parts are conceivable and what parts must, by way of implausibility, be false. But maybe, “Truth is stranger than fiction”7, and the “Good Book” is still good, because it is still true. “We all need to believe in something. Some choose evolution, some choose Jesus. The biggest myth, however, is to think you can choose both.”8
I am not attempting to answer questions in this blog, but I am encouraging all who may be reading to think and to seek answers. Historian Will Durant says, “If you make people think they are thinking they will love you. But if you make people think, they will hate you.”9 Jesus had a tendency to make people think, and he was definitely hated. In Jn 14:6 Jesus says, “I am the way, and the truth and the life, no one comes to the father except through me.” Not exactly a politically correct statement! However what he said is either absolutely true or absolutely false. There are only two choices, on this point the bible, and famous American poet Robert Frost, agree:
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference
1.Quoted in Clifford Goldstein, God, Godel, and Grace (Review and Herald, 2003) pp.25,26
2.Clifford Goldstein, God, Godel, and Grace (Review and Herald, 2003) p.25
3.Quoted in David Asscherick lecture, Evolution and the Emperors New Clothes (www.audioverse.com, 2004)
4.Quoted in David Asscherick lecture, Pascal's Wager (www.audioverse.com, 2004)
5.Quoted in David Asscherick lecture, Does God Exist and Does it Matter (www.audioverse.com, 2004)
6.Quoted in David Asscherick lecture, Does God Exist and Does it Matter (www.audioverse.com, 2004)
7.Murray McGill, Dead Birds Don't Sing but Witching Rods Talk (Remnant Publications, coming soon 2010) Ch 32
8.Clifford Goldstein The Myth of Progressive Faith (Signs of the Times, September, 2001)
9.Quoted in David Asscherick, Evolution and the Emperors New Clothes (www.audioverse.com, 2004)
Frequently Flatulent
There is a saying that a rich man has a canopy over his bed and a poor man has a can of pee under his bed. Does having the canopy make the rich man more refined. Or does the poor man's can of pee simply point to his practicality? What does it mean to be cultured?And how are the unspoken rules of etiquette determined? As the title indicates this blog is about farting, inspired by the frequency, and unapologetic mater of factness of which it occurs amongst the Palawano people...including the ladies.
Why is flatulence embarrassing, my grandpa would say, “Its just wind”, to which we kids would all chuckle, but grandma would say, “Don't laugh.” In the American culture it is especially awkward when the weight of the evidence convicts the culprit but the individual plays dumb and doesn't even crack a smile to accept the verdict that everyone knows. When my father is the guilty one he blaims it on the dog. But this is not with out some warrant, the dog often scares itself when she farts, then looks behind her as if to say, “Who did that, it obviously wasn't me.”
The one constant cultural norm I have observed is that kids everywhere laugh at flatulence, even if when they do so they are frowned upon. But like the fart, the laughter is natural and sometimes cannot be stifled. As kids when we were accused of farting we'd say, “You smelt it you dealt it” to which there was a ready comeback, “You said the rhyme, you committed the crime.”
Why is it that flatulence is a crime that breaks the unspoken law of etiquette in the American culture, while in the Palawano society everyone is at liberty to fart? My wife unintentionally experienced this liberty one day... Still bound by her National law of etiquette she was embarrassed and the Palawano's laughed not so much at the fart itself but at her obvious embarrassment.
I am also not yet adjusted to the frequent flatulence. I still find it bizarre to witness girls fart while I am teaching them math. They only get embarrassed when I can't help but notice and smile. As for myself I am a silent assassin. No one ever hears me, but that doesn't mean that the deadly gas has not all ready been released. I sometimes joke with my sister that I only fart 3 times a year, to which she laughingly replies, “That's going to make you have issues.”
Maybe flatulence is good for one's health, and the release of a little hot air is ok. Perhaps all the pent up hot air causes some society's to take themselves to seriously. Making it so a fart is classified under the exalted vernacular of flatulence. But a fart is a fart and calling it flatulence doesn't change the fact. Like the poor man's can of pee, simple can mean functional, not necessarily less refined.
Yes the Palawano's do fart frequently. However the fact of the matter is they call flatulence what it is, “atut.” Maybe the issues of self exaltation and pride would vaporize like a fart in the wind if people didn't take themselves so seriously. The prescription for hot heads is simple, release a little hot air once and awhile.
Why is flatulence embarrassing, my grandpa would say, “Its just wind”, to which we kids would all chuckle, but grandma would say, “Don't laugh.” In the American culture it is especially awkward when the weight of the evidence convicts the culprit but the individual plays dumb and doesn't even crack a smile to accept the verdict that everyone knows. When my father is the guilty one he blaims it on the dog. But this is not with out some warrant, the dog often scares itself when she farts, then looks behind her as if to say, “Who did that, it obviously wasn't me.”
The one constant cultural norm I have observed is that kids everywhere laugh at flatulence, even if when they do so they are frowned upon. But like the fart, the laughter is natural and sometimes cannot be stifled. As kids when we were accused of farting we'd say, “You smelt it you dealt it” to which there was a ready comeback, “You said the rhyme, you committed the crime.”
Why is it that flatulence is a crime that breaks the unspoken law of etiquette in the American culture, while in the Palawano society everyone is at liberty to fart? My wife unintentionally experienced this liberty one day... Still bound by her National law of etiquette she was embarrassed and the Palawano's laughed not so much at the fart itself but at her obvious embarrassment.
I am also not yet adjusted to the frequent flatulence. I still find it bizarre to witness girls fart while I am teaching them math. They only get embarrassed when I can't help but notice and smile. As for myself I am a silent assassin. No one ever hears me, but that doesn't mean that the deadly gas has not all ready been released. I sometimes joke with my sister that I only fart 3 times a year, to which she laughingly replies, “That's going to make you have issues.”
Maybe flatulence is good for one's health, and the release of a little hot air is ok. Perhaps all the pent up hot air causes some society's to take themselves to seriously. Making it so a fart is classified under the exalted vernacular of flatulence. But a fart is a fart and calling it flatulence doesn't change the fact. Like the poor man's can of pee, simple can mean functional, not necessarily less refined.
Yes the Palawano's do fart frequently. However the fact of the matter is they call flatulence what it is, “atut.” Maybe the issues of self exaltation and pride would vaporize like a fart in the wind if people didn't take themselves so seriously. The prescription for hot heads is simple, release a little hot air once and awhile.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Soul Medicine
I love music. Music is one of those things that can capture time, and place the moment in a sort of freeze frame capsule. Years later, with the song or the sound, the memory floats back. This morning I was listening to, and thinking of some of the songs that have frozen time in my mind. One such memory brought me back to a night were I was cuddling with Danelle and looking into the mezmorizing brightness of a fire. Danelle has a beautiful voice and she was softly singing a song by Ginny Owens that says, “I don't want to be a flame, I want to be a raging fire. Tired of my will my way, your calling's higher.” In the slide-show of my mind I like it when that song plays because that memory is one of my favorites.
Sadly not all time capsules are as joyful. In my senior year of high school, when I still felt invincible, one of my friends died in a car crash. My feeling of invincibility was shattered on the spot. Some of my best friends were casket bearers, thinking of them walking down that isle, baring the casket, trying to be strong and hold back the tears, still makes me cry to this day. The song that brings that memory back is, “I Can Only Imagine” by Mercy Me. It is a hopeful song but my memory associated with it replays that moment in my mind.
Many of the greatest songs have been written during the most disparaging of circumstances. The story behind the inspiration of the songs, “It is Well with My Soul” and “Tis so Sweet to Trust in Jesus” are examples of this. “It is Well with My Soul” is often played at funerals and the words have a profound ability to bring peace and hope to those who are suffering the intense loss of a loved one. Though the music eventually stops, the hope found in the lyrics continues on like effective medicine.
I enjoy musing about music and reflecting upon the memories that connect my life to it. This morning the music offered me an escape from the perpetual “Cockadoodle-doo” of the roosters. Their cocky flamboyance is unwelcome background noise here, but I am sure that upon returning to America, the rooster call will turn into a pleasant reminder of our time in Kemantian.
Another thing that will bring our memory back to these mountains is a song called, “There is a Redeemer.” Even before I understood the words the melody moved me, and the way the Palawono's sing it is powerful. Music is a language that I enjoy communicating in, and listening to. Words by themselves can be meaningful. But when melody is added it becomes music, and a language that can be translated into medicine for the soul.
Sadly not all time capsules are as joyful. In my senior year of high school, when I still felt invincible, one of my friends died in a car crash. My feeling of invincibility was shattered on the spot. Some of my best friends were casket bearers, thinking of them walking down that isle, baring the casket, trying to be strong and hold back the tears, still makes me cry to this day. The song that brings that memory back is, “I Can Only Imagine” by Mercy Me. It is a hopeful song but my memory associated with it replays that moment in my mind.
Many of the greatest songs have been written during the most disparaging of circumstances. The story behind the inspiration of the songs, “It is Well with My Soul” and “Tis so Sweet to Trust in Jesus” are examples of this. “It is Well with My Soul” is often played at funerals and the words have a profound ability to bring peace and hope to those who are suffering the intense loss of a loved one. Though the music eventually stops, the hope found in the lyrics continues on like effective medicine.
I enjoy musing about music and reflecting upon the memories that connect my life to it. This morning the music offered me an escape from the perpetual “Cockadoodle-doo” of the roosters. Their cocky flamboyance is unwelcome background noise here, but I am sure that upon returning to America, the rooster call will turn into a pleasant reminder of our time in Kemantian.
Another thing that will bring our memory back to these mountains is a song called, “There is a Redeemer.” Even before I understood the words the melody moved me, and the way the Palawono's sing it is powerful. Music is a language that I enjoy communicating in, and listening to. Words by themselves can be meaningful. But when melody is added it becomes music, and a language that can be translated into medicine for the soul.
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