As we all know, Christians' views on Halloween cover a wide spectrum, from the "no way; it's evil" variety to the "don't be goofy; let's go trick-or-treating" breed. Most of us probably fall somewhere in the middle.
I'm not about to post about this should-we/shouldn't-we debate. But for those of you who might be interested in thinking through it a little more, there's some good history and thoughts on Halloween posted online, courtesy of Grace to You. You can find it here: http://www.gty.org/Resources/Articles/1126. (Tim Challies also has some good thoughts on his blog: http://www.challies.com/.)
Anyway, the main reason I'm posting this is that one snippet from this GTY article caught my notice:
Christians should use Halloween and all that it brings to the imagination--death imagery, superstition, expressions of debauched revelry--as an opportunity to engage the unbelieving world with the gospel of Jesus Christ. God has given everyone a conscience that responds to His truth (Romans 2:14-16), and the conscience is the Christian's ally in the evangelistic enterprise. Christians should take time to inform the consciences of friends and family with biblical truth regarding God, the Bible, sin, Christ, future judgment, and the hope of eternal life in Jesus Christ for the repentant sinner.
What a great reminder! Halloween is a wonderful evangelism opportunity. Talk about fear, death, spirits, etc., are pretty easy to bring up this time of year, thanks to the holiday (and the ubiquitous slew of witches, black cats, and jack-o-lanterns adorning everything). And these provide awesome, very natural springboards for spiritual/gospel conversations. Just something to keep in mind.
10.24.2007
10.22.2007
Comic Relief
In a slight deviation from the norm, here's something very short and very un-serious (but very funny!). In Generations of Grace, the Sunday-school curriculum I'm editing at work (www.generationsofgrace.com), this review question came up for the children. (And may I add that I sincerely, sincerely hope that our Sunday-school kids are able to answer this correctly.)
God told Israel that the Canaanites would be __________.
a. thorns in their side
b. corn on the side
Gotta love it. (Yes, I exercised some editorial "authority" on this one.)
God told Israel that the Canaanites would be __________.
a. thorns in their side
b. corn on the side
Gotta love it. (Yes, I exercised some editorial "authority" on this one.)
10.12.2007
The Glory of Christ, Part 2
All right, time for a continuation of my thoughts from the first chapter of John Owen's book The Glory of Christ. Here we go:
Owen asks, What does beholding Christ actually accomplish in us? (This is really an amazing question, if you think about it.) He lists several things.
First: It makes us fit for heaven.
“All men, indeed, think themselves fit enough for glory...if they could attain it; but it is because they know not what it is” (51). Music brings no joy to a man who can’t hear. Beautiful colors mean nothing to someone who can’t see. The rays of the sun would bring no pleasure to a senseless fish pulled up from the cold bottom of the ocean. And so the glory of heaven—the glory of Christ seen face to face—would mean nothing to those without the ability to take pleasure in it. But God has given us a way whereby we can be made “receptive subjects of the glory to be communicated to [us]” (52). And that way is through beholding the glory of Christ through faith now. “All our present glory consists in our preparation for future glory” (52).
Second: It produces sanctification as we view Christ. This is the primary, if not the only means, of sanctification for the believer. Isn't that an incredible thought? The apostle Paul said that we’re transformed “from glory to glory” as we behold Christ: “But we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as from the Lord, the Spirit” (2 Cor. 3:18).
Third: It brings us rest and contentment. By lifting our eyes from the cares, problems, and lusts of this world, to gaze on the glorious perfections of Christ, we lose our regard for these worthless things. I’m reminded of an old hymn:
Turn your eyes upon Jesus
Look full in His wonderful face
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim
In the light of His glory and grace.
Paul said something similar in Philippians: “I count all things to be loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them but rubbish so that I may gain Christ” (3:8).
Fourth: It brings us everlasting blessedness. “We shall ever be with the Lord” (1 Thess. 4:17). And “we will be like Him, because we will see Him just as He is” (1 John 3:2). No one can see God, who alone dwells in inapproachable light. The Father is invisible and incomprehensible. And yet we see Him perfectly revealed in the person of Christ. He is the manifestation of the glory of God—“the image of the invisible God” (Col. 1:15), “the radiance of His glory and the exact representation of His nature” (Heb. 1:3).
Honestly, these things are too high for us to grasp. It's exciting to think about. “We know not well what we say when we speak of them; yet there is in true believers a foresight and foretaste of this glorious condition” (53)—in the face of Christ!
This is seriously good stuff. I can't wait to keep reading this book!
Owen asks, What does beholding Christ actually accomplish in us? (This is really an amazing question, if you think about it.) He lists several things.
First: It makes us fit for heaven.
“All men, indeed, think themselves fit enough for glory...if they could attain it; but it is because they know not what it is” (51). Music brings no joy to a man who can’t hear. Beautiful colors mean nothing to someone who can’t see. The rays of the sun would bring no pleasure to a senseless fish pulled up from the cold bottom of the ocean. And so the glory of heaven—the glory of Christ seen face to face—would mean nothing to those without the ability to take pleasure in it. But God has given us a way whereby we can be made “receptive subjects of the glory to be communicated to [us]” (52). And that way is through beholding the glory of Christ through faith now. “All our present glory consists in our preparation for future glory” (52).
Second: It produces sanctification as we view Christ. This is the primary, if not the only means, of sanctification for the believer. Isn't that an incredible thought? The apostle Paul said that we’re transformed “from glory to glory” as we behold Christ: “But we all, with unveiled face, beholding as in a mirror the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from glory to glory, just as from the Lord, the Spirit” (2 Cor. 3:18).
Third: It brings us rest and contentment. By lifting our eyes from the cares, problems, and lusts of this world, to gaze on the glorious perfections of Christ, we lose our regard for these worthless things. I’m reminded of an old hymn:
Turn your eyes upon Jesus
Look full in His wonderful face
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim
In the light of His glory and grace.
Paul said something similar in Philippians: “I count all things to be loss in view of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them but rubbish so that I may gain Christ” (3:8).
Fourth: It brings us everlasting blessedness. “We shall ever be with the Lord” (1 Thess. 4:17). And “we will be like Him, because we will see Him just as He is” (1 John 3:2). No one can see God, who alone dwells in inapproachable light. The Father is invisible and incomprehensible. And yet we see Him perfectly revealed in the person of Christ. He is the manifestation of the glory of God—“the image of the invisible God” (Col. 1:15), “the radiance of His glory and the exact representation of His nature” (Heb. 1:3).
Honestly, these things are too high for us to grasp. It's exciting to think about. “We know not well what we say when we speak of them; yet there is in true believers a foresight and foretaste of this glorious condition” (53)—in the face of Christ!
This is seriously good stuff. I can't wait to keep reading this book!
10.11.2007
The Accountability Index
For two years now, I've been a member of Grace Community Church in Los Angeles. As a result, I've been blessed to sit under some of the most gifted expositors in this country (maybe in the world). It would be interesting to add up the number of five-star sermons I've heard--three every Sunday, one every Friday, plus the plethora I listen to through Internet streaming, on CD, and at conferences and special events.
Dan Philips at Pyromaniacs recently posted some challenging thoughts about hearing good sermons. You can read it here: http://teampyro.blogspot.com/2007/10/wasted-sermons-not-rant.html.
He notes, "The preaching of the word does not produce holiness and wisdom ex opere operato, as it were. That is, while the Word preached is powerful, it is not magical. The Word preached must fall on good soil."
He points out that hearing a good sermon doesn't magically make us holier, with no effort on our part. But it does do something: it changes our status before God--not in the salvific sense, but in an accountability sense. Greater privilege equals greater responsibility. In John 15:22 Jesus said, "If I had not come and spoken to them, they would not have been guilty of sin, but now they have no excuse for their sin."
So, listening to good sermons makes us more aware of what God's Word says, and thus more responsible in light of that knowledge. I think that keeping this in mind has to change how we view sermon-listening. It changes our attitude in listening to them, and also in thinking through and applying them--actively and intentionally, with an awareness of the responsibility to do so. Anyway, Dan gives some more good thoughts about this in his post. I definitely recommend reading it.
Dan Philips at Pyromaniacs recently posted some challenging thoughts about hearing good sermons. You can read it here: http://teampyro.blogspot.com/2007/10/wasted-sermons-not-rant.html.
He notes, "The preaching of the word does not produce holiness and wisdom ex opere operato, as it were. That is, while the Word preached is powerful, it is not magical. The Word preached must fall on good soil."
He points out that hearing a good sermon doesn't magically make us holier, with no effort on our part. But it does do something: it changes our status before God--not in the salvific sense, but in an accountability sense. Greater privilege equals greater responsibility. In John 15:22 Jesus said, "If I had not come and spoken to them, they would not have been guilty of sin, but now they have no excuse for their sin."
So, listening to good sermons makes us more aware of what God's Word says, and thus more responsible in light of that knowledge. I think that keeping this in mind has to change how we view sermon-listening. It changes our attitude in listening to them, and also in thinking through and applying them--actively and intentionally, with an awareness of the responsibility to do so. Anyway, Dan gives some more good thoughts about this in his post. I definitely recommend reading it.
10.09.2007
The Glory of Christ, Part 1
I just started reading John Owen’s book “The Glory of Christ”—partly because my pastor is doing a series on the person of Christ from Philippians 2:5-11. I’ve made it through the introductory pages and chapter one. It was so incredibly rich that I couldn’t resist doing a recap here. (Can anyone say “book report”? Ha.)
Part 1, Chapter 1 is entitled “Meditations and Discourses on the Glory of Christ: The Explanation of the Text.” A dazzling title, no? But don’t judge a book by its cover (um, a chapter by its title). This is heady stuff.
In John 17:24 Jesus prayed, “Father, I desire that they also, whom You have given Me, be with Me where I am, so that they may see My glory which You have given Me, for You loved Me before the foundation of the world” (emphasis mine).
Owen’s main idea, which he states with surprising perspicuity (you know why I say “surprising” if you’ve ever read Owen), is this: Christ’s desire for His church is that they behold His glory. Simple enough. His foundational point is this: that “one of the greatest privileges and advancements of believers, both in this world and unto eternity, consists in their beholding the glory of Christ” (45).
He begins by pointing out that unbelievers—all unbelievers—denigrate the glory of Christ, whether they do it by actively despising Him, or by simply conceiving “slight thoughts of Him” (46). Now, there will come a day when Christ will vindicate His own honor and glory in this world. But, "in the meantime, it is the duty of all those who 'love the Lord Jesus in sincerity' (Eph. 6:24) to give testimony in a peculiar manner to His divine person and glory, according to their several capacities" (46).
So to behold the glory of Christ is the special duty of believers. And, what’s more is that it is also our greatest privilege and joy. “On this our present comforts and future blessedness depend. This is the life and reward of our souls” (46).
There are two ways, Owen says, in which believers behold the glory of Christ: (1) “by faith, in this world” and (2) “by sight, or immediate vision, in eternity” (47).
[A side note: He does say that in the verse he’s using (John 17:24), Jesus is primarily referring to the second of these two (seeing His glory in heaven). This is pretty clear from the context, since Jesus is talking about His followers being with Him where He is. But Owen also points out that Jesus did not “exclude from His desire that sight of His glory which we have by faith in this world, but pray[ed] for the perfection of it in heaven” (47)—the idea being that what we now “see in a mirror dimly” we will there see “face to face” (1 Cor. 13:12).]
Owen launches into a powerful discussion at this point. He makes it clear that viewing Christ’s glory “by sight” in eternity must be preceded by viewing it here “by faith.” “No man,” he says, “shall ever behold the glory of Christ by sight hereafter who does not in some measure behold it here by faith” (47). He adds: “Grace is a necessary preparation for glory, and faith for sight.”
The reason for this necessity for faith before sight, at least in part, is that beholding the glory of Christ “face to face” is a thing that we simply aren’t capable of now, in our present state. We don’t have the spiritual faculty for it, just as we don’t have the physical faculty to stare directly at the sun. We can’t see it; it darkens our sight immediately. It is the same spiritually. So, “only by a view of the glory of Christ by faith here may we attain such blessed conceptions of our beholding His glory above by immediate vision that our hearts shall be drawn to admire it and desire its full enjoyment” (50).
Here’s a question: Do we truly desire to behold the glory of Christ in eternity?
"Most men will say with confidence, living and dying, that they desire to be with Christ and to behold His glory; but they can give no reason why they should desire any such thing....If man pretends to be enamored of, or to greatly desire, what he never saw nor was ever represented to him, he but dotes on his own imaginations. The pretended desires of many to behold the glory of Christ in heaven, who have no view of it by faith while they are here in this world, are nothing but self-deceiving imaginations" (48).
He concludes: “It is not to our edification to discourse on beholding the glory of Christ in heaven by vision until we go through a trial whether we see anything of it in this world by faith or not” (49). If we are to behold Christ’s glory for eternity, we must behold it now.
And, on that note, I think I'll stop. This is becoming an incredibly long post...so I’ll make it another two-part series and will post the rest in the next day or two!
10.08.2007
A New Look at an Old Story
Recently at Bible study we discussed personal testimonies—their purpose, what they should include, etc. I can’t tell you how I needed this!
I cringe a little when I realize that because my testimony most often is told to believers, I’ve gotten used to presenting it in a way that’s very matter-of-fact, Christian vocabulary-laden, and...well...just sort of dry—more of a soteriology lecture than a personal narrative.
Why in the world would I ever tell it that way, whether to an unbeliever or a believer? My life has been radically changed. And so I thought I'd tell the story here—maybe it will be interesting and/or encouraging for those of you who haven’t heard it before.
I’ll start at the beginning: I was born into a Christian family and grew up in the “church culture.” From as early as I can remember, my worldview was decidedly Christian; I accepted what the Bible said as true, and it was the lens through which I naturally viewed all of life.
When I was six years old, I attended a Vacation Bible School and was told things I’d heard numerous times: that God is the Creator; that I was his creation, made in His image and accountable to Him; that my sin had separated me from God, who is perfectly holy; that because God is holy and just, He must punish sin—and that the penalty for sin is eternal separation from Him in hell; that God, out of His great love, chose to send His Son to take the punishment that I deserved; that Jesus died, was buried, and rose again, showing His power over sin and death; and that I had to turn away from my sin and trust solely in Jesus and His merciful work in order to be made right with God.
I was young, but I followed this logic and believed it was the truth. So my teacher led me to pray, telling God that I understood these things and asking Him to forgive my sins through Christ and make me right with Him. I did.
I was excited to be “saved,” but not much in my life seemed different then, or over the next few years. My worldview was the same, and my outward actions were the same. I still believed the same things, and I still lived a “Christian” life, reading the Bible and trying to follow its standards, praying, attending church, etc.
During my early teenage years, I started to question whether I really was a Christian. I was aware of the danger of merely piggybacking on my parents’ faith, and I knew it wasn’t acceptable—to God, or to me. But was I piggybacking? No. I didn’t think so. The Bible’s truths rang as true to me as ever. I still believed fully that the Bible was the Word of God and the source of truth—the truth.
But was I really right with God? I loved Him, believed His Word, and had a growing desire to live in a way that pleased Him. But I wondered...what if I had prayed my childhood prayer naively? Six years old is very young. Looking back, I wasn’t sure whether I had been sincere or had really understood. I did believe the Bible, and I loved God and was counting on His Son’s sacrifice to pay for my sins. And yet, because I couldn’t with certainty name the time/place when I first believed, I was afraid that I might be deceiving myself. I don’t think my parents or friends had any idea of my internal struggle, but I spent a lot of time in uncertainty and fear.
But during that time I began to study the Bible intently. And the more I read, the more I understood.
Something that I hadn’t grasped very well before was that being a follower of Christ isn’t so much about being able to name a point in time when you prayed a fervent prayer. Following Christ is about a life exchange—trading your old sinful life for a new life in Christ. It means turning away from sin and to Jesus, throwing your entire life on His mercy and grace because you realize that there’s no other source of salvation. It’s realizing that you can’t be counted righteous before God unless His righteousness is counted on your behalf.
The Bible makes this superabundantly clear...and discovering it brought so much comfort and joy to my heart.
Of course, God does His saving work in a person’s heart at one specific moment in time. And for many people, this is marked by a very memorable occasion, usually involving a prayer. But a prayer is not the proof of salvation. A changed life is.
Did God save me when I was six years old? Or did He change my heart sometime during those teenage years? I honestly don’t know. But I have no doubt that there was a point when He did save me from my sin. I know this because I see that my life is completely His; He’s taken hold of my heart and changed it completely. The ability to follow Christ, to love Him, to hunger for and understand His Word, to be convicted of my sin, to desire to please Him, and to be gradually be made like Him—those are all things that I could never do on my own. They’re gifts from God.
Jesus once told the Pharisee Nicodemus, “The wind blows where it wishes and you hear the sound of it, but do not know where it comes from and where it is going; so is everyone who is born of the Spirit” (John 3:6–8).
The point is that salvation is God’s work. No attitude or action on my part could have rescued me from my sin. Only God could. The apostle Paul said it this way: “It [salvation] does not depend on the man who wills or the man who runs, but on God who has mercy” (Romans 9:16). My salvation didn’t hinge on a prayer I prayed, but on God’s mercy and His power to change my sinful heart. And He did.
I’ve been able to share this story several times now, since we talked about it at Bible study...and I hope to be able to share it many, many times. It is a good one! How wonderful to dwell on the things that God has done through the power of His gospel.
I’m reminded of the words of an old hymn we used to sing when I was that little six-year-old in church on Sundays:
I love to tell the story of unseen things above,
Of Jesus and His glory, of Jesus and His love.
I love to tell the story, because I know ’tis true;
It satisfies my longings as nothing else can do.
I love to tell the story; more wonderful it seems
Than all the golden fancies of all our golden dreams.
I love to tell the story, it did so much for me;
And that is just the reason I tell it now to thee.
I love to tell the story; ’tis pleasant to repeat
What seems, each time I tell it, more wonderfully sweet.
I love to tell the story, for some have never heard
The message of salvation from God’s own holy Word.
I love to tell the story, for those who know it best
Seem hungering and thirsting to hear it like the rest.
And when, in scenes of glory, I sing the new, new song,
’Twill be the old, old story that I have loved so long.
I cringe a little when I realize that because my testimony most often is told to believers, I’ve gotten used to presenting it in a way that’s very matter-of-fact, Christian vocabulary-laden, and...well...just sort of dry—more of a soteriology lecture than a personal narrative.
Why in the world would I ever tell it that way, whether to an unbeliever or a believer? My life has been radically changed. And so I thought I'd tell the story here—maybe it will be interesting and/or encouraging for those of you who haven’t heard it before.
I’ll start at the beginning: I was born into a Christian family and grew up in the “church culture.” From as early as I can remember, my worldview was decidedly Christian; I accepted what the Bible said as true, and it was the lens through which I naturally viewed all of life.
When I was six years old, I attended a Vacation Bible School and was told things I’d heard numerous times: that God is the Creator; that I was his creation, made in His image and accountable to Him; that my sin had separated me from God, who is perfectly holy; that because God is holy and just, He must punish sin—and that the penalty for sin is eternal separation from Him in hell; that God, out of His great love, chose to send His Son to take the punishment that I deserved; that Jesus died, was buried, and rose again, showing His power over sin and death; and that I had to turn away from my sin and trust solely in Jesus and His merciful work in order to be made right with God.
I was young, but I followed this logic and believed it was the truth. So my teacher led me to pray, telling God that I understood these things and asking Him to forgive my sins through Christ and make me right with Him. I did.
I was excited to be “saved,” but not much in my life seemed different then, or over the next few years. My worldview was the same, and my outward actions were the same. I still believed the same things, and I still lived a “Christian” life, reading the Bible and trying to follow its standards, praying, attending church, etc.
During my early teenage years, I started to question whether I really was a Christian. I was aware of the danger of merely piggybacking on my parents’ faith, and I knew it wasn’t acceptable—to God, or to me. But was I piggybacking? No. I didn’t think so. The Bible’s truths rang as true to me as ever. I still believed fully that the Bible was the Word of God and the source of truth—the truth.
But was I really right with God? I loved Him, believed His Word, and had a growing desire to live in a way that pleased Him. But I wondered...what if I had prayed my childhood prayer naively? Six years old is very young. Looking back, I wasn’t sure whether I had been sincere or had really understood. I did believe the Bible, and I loved God and was counting on His Son’s sacrifice to pay for my sins. And yet, because I couldn’t with certainty name the time/place when I first believed, I was afraid that I might be deceiving myself. I don’t think my parents or friends had any idea of my internal struggle, but I spent a lot of time in uncertainty and fear.
But during that time I began to study the Bible intently. And the more I read, the more I understood.
Something that I hadn’t grasped very well before was that being a follower of Christ isn’t so much about being able to name a point in time when you prayed a fervent prayer. Following Christ is about a life exchange—trading your old sinful life for a new life in Christ. It means turning away from sin and to Jesus, throwing your entire life on His mercy and grace because you realize that there’s no other source of salvation. It’s realizing that you can’t be counted righteous before God unless His righteousness is counted on your behalf.
The Bible makes this superabundantly clear...and discovering it brought so much comfort and joy to my heart.
Of course, God does His saving work in a person’s heart at one specific moment in time. And for many people, this is marked by a very memorable occasion, usually involving a prayer. But a prayer is not the proof of salvation. A changed life is.
Did God save me when I was six years old? Or did He change my heart sometime during those teenage years? I honestly don’t know. But I have no doubt that there was a point when He did save me from my sin. I know this because I see that my life is completely His; He’s taken hold of my heart and changed it completely. The ability to follow Christ, to love Him, to hunger for and understand His Word, to be convicted of my sin, to desire to please Him, and to be gradually be made like Him—those are all things that I could never do on my own. They’re gifts from God.
Jesus once told the Pharisee Nicodemus, “The wind blows where it wishes and you hear the sound of it, but do not know where it comes from and where it is going; so is everyone who is born of the Spirit” (John 3:6–8).
The point is that salvation is God’s work. No attitude or action on my part could have rescued me from my sin. Only God could. The apostle Paul said it this way: “It [salvation] does not depend on the man who wills or the man who runs, but on God who has mercy” (Romans 9:16). My salvation didn’t hinge on a prayer I prayed, but on God’s mercy and His power to change my sinful heart. And He did.
I’ve been able to share this story several times now, since we talked about it at Bible study...and I hope to be able to share it many, many times. It is a good one! How wonderful to dwell on the things that God has done through the power of His gospel.
I’m reminded of the words of an old hymn we used to sing when I was that little six-year-old in church on Sundays:
I love to tell the story of unseen things above,
Of Jesus and His glory, of Jesus and His love.
I love to tell the story, because I know ’tis true;
It satisfies my longings as nothing else can do.
I love to tell the story; more wonderful it seems
Than all the golden fancies of all our golden dreams.
I love to tell the story, it did so much for me;
And that is just the reason I tell it now to thee.
I love to tell the story; ’tis pleasant to repeat
What seems, each time I tell it, more wonderfully sweet.
I love to tell the story, for some have never heard
The message of salvation from God’s own holy Word.
I love to tell the story, for those who know it best
Seem hungering and thirsting to hear it like the rest.
And when, in scenes of glory, I sing the new, new song,
’Twill be the old, old story that I have loved so long.
10.01.2007
Politics, Poetry, and Powerful Grace
I've been reading William Wilberforce's A Practical View of Christianity--a book I already highly recommend, despite the fact that I'm only in the fourth chapter. Wilberforce was a politician in the British Parliament in the late-eighteenth/early-nineteenth century and is known for his indefatigueable campaign against the slave trade. (If you've seen the movie "Amazing Grace" that came out recently, you know his story.) He's also known for being a strong believer. His book is a wake-up call to nominal Christians, a sort of revival call and explanation of significant biblical doctrines. Anyway, like I said, I'm only on the fourth chapter, but it's been phenomenal thus far.
Something that stood out to me was Wilberforce's treatment and explanation of the doctrine of man's depravity. Here's an excerpt from the book:
Left to the consequences of our own folly, the understanding has grown darker, and the heart more obdurate: reason has at length altogether betrayed her trust, and even conscience herself has aided the delusion, till, instead of deploring our miserable slavery, we have too often hugged, and even gloried in our chains....None are altogether free; all without exception, in a greater or less degree, bear about them, more visible or more concealed, the ignominious marks of their captivity.
When I read this, I immediately thought of a poem by John Donne, also an Englishman, though he lived in the late-sixteenth/early-seventeenth century and was a poet, not a politician. (Note the bold section; it's rich with the flavor of Wilberforce's statement: "Reason has at length altogether betrayed her trust, and even consience herself has aided the delusion.")
Here's the text of Donne's poem (typed from memory; forgive any errors!):
Batter my heart, three-Person'd God, for You
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend.
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Thy force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like a usurped town to another due,
Labor to admit You, but--oh--to no end.
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend
But is captiv'd and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I'll love you and would be lov'd fain,
But am betrothed unto your enemy.
Divorce me--untie, or break that knot again;
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Unless you enslave me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
This poem is one of my favorites. It shows, in beautifully graphic language, the doctrines of divine sovereignty and human inability--the fact that man is desparately enslaved by sin, with no hope for salvation unless God acts to save.
Donne uses imperative language throughout the poem, showing his desperation; he's not demanding God, but he is pleading God to take over his heart, since he knows that he isn't capable of giving it. Gentle wooing ("knock, breathe, shine...seek to mend") is not enough to overcome the dark bondage of sin; God will have to completely and forcefully overtake/overthrow the heart. Donne uses violent language to describe this--"batter...o'erthrow...bend thy force...break, blow, burn...imprison...enslave...ravish."
He metaphorically speaks of the soul as a town that is under unrightful foreign rule and is unable to let God in. He also notes that reason (the intellect), God's viceroy (agent) in man should be able to defend him but is unable, being captive itself. The mind is enslaved by sin.
Donne gives various paradoxes. That he "may rise and stand," he begs God to "o'erthrow" (overthrow) him. Also, he says that unless God "ravishes" his heart, it can never be "chaste." "Ravish" means to seize or carry away violently, and it's often used particularly of a woman who is taken and violated against her will. Yet Donne notes that unless the heart is "ravished" by God, it can never be "chaste" (pure). Also paradoxical is the fact that unless it is imprisoned by God, the heart can never be free.
Both the politician and the poet had it right, though they were very different men using very different means of communication. Man is a slave to sin, unable to save himself.
Ephesians 2:1: "And you were dead in your trespasses and sins."
Ephesians 4:18: "...being darkened in their understanding, excluded from the life of God because of the ignorance that is in them, because of the hardness of their heart."
Romans 8:7: "The mind set on the flesh is hostile toward God; for it does not subject itself to the law of God, for it is not even able to do so."
Praise God for His great grace--His powerful, sovereign, overthrowing, irresistible, saving grace. I was thankful for this reminder.
Something that stood out to me was Wilberforce's treatment and explanation of the doctrine of man's depravity. Here's an excerpt from the book:
Left to the consequences of our own folly, the understanding has grown darker, and the heart more obdurate: reason has at length altogether betrayed her trust, and even conscience herself has aided the delusion, till, instead of deploring our miserable slavery, we have too often hugged, and even gloried in our chains....None are altogether free; all without exception, in a greater or less degree, bear about them, more visible or more concealed, the ignominious marks of their captivity.
When I read this, I immediately thought of a poem by John Donne, also an Englishman, though he lived in the late-sixteenth/early-seventeenth century and was a poet, not a politician. (Note the bold section; it's rich with the flavor of Wilberforce's statement: "Reason has at length altogether betrayed her trust, and even consience herself has aided the delusion.")
Here's the text of Donne's poem (typed from memory; forgive any errors!):
Batter my heart, three-Person'd God, for You
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend.
That I may rise and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Thy force to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like a usurped town to another due,
Labor to admit You, but--oh--to no end.
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend
But is captiv'd and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I'll love you and would be lov'd fain,
But am betrothed unto your enemy.
Divorce me--untie, or break that knot again;
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Unless you enslave me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
This poem is one of my favorites. It shows, in beautifully graphic language, the doctrines of divine sovereignty and human inability--the fact that man is desparately enslaved by sin, with no hope for salvation unless God acts to save.
Donne uses imperative language throughout the poem, showing his desperation; he's not demanding God, but he is pleading God to take over his heart, since he knows that he isn't capable of giving it. Gentle wooing ("knock, breathe, shine...seek to mend") is not enough to overcome the dark bondage of sin; God will have to completely and forcefully overtake/overthrow the heart. Donne uses violent language to describe this--"batter...o'erthrow...bend thy force...break, blow, burn...imprison...enslave...ravish."
He metaphorically speaks of the soul as a town that is under unrightful foreign rule and is unable to let God in. He also notes that reason (the intellect), God's viceroy (agent) in man should be able to defend him but is unable, being captive itself. The mind is enslaved by sin.
Donne gives various paradoxes. That he "may rise and stand," he begs God to "o'erthrow" (overthrow) him. Also, he says that unless God "ravishes" his heart, it can never be "chaste." "Ravish" means to seize or carry away violently, and it's often used particularly of a woman who is taken and violated against her will. Yet Donne notes that unless the heart is "ravished" by God, it can never be "chaste" (pure). Also paradoxical is the fact that unless it is imprisoned by God, the heart can never be free.
Both the politician and the poet had it right, though they were very different men using very different means of communication. Man is a slave to sin, unable to save himself.
Ephesians 2:1: "And you were dead in your trespasses and sins."
Ephesians 4:18: "...being darkened in their understanding, excluded from the life of God because of the ignorance that is in them, because of the hardness of their heart."
Romans 8:7: "The mind set on the flesh is hostile toward God; for it does not subject itself to the law of God, for it is not even able to do so."
Praise God for His great grace--His powerful, sovereign, overthrowing, irresistible, saving grace. I was thankful for this reminder.
9.30.2007
Some More History...
Sorry it's taken so long to get this up. I haven't had Internet access at home and keep forgetting to stick my notes on my thumb drive. Oh, well.
So, I'm going to jump right back in:
Not too long after this (see the previous post) came the notorious Antiochus IV. He was a prideful ruler who called himself Epiphanes, meaning “manifest god,” and he enforced the Hellenization of the Jews with ruthless cruelty. The Jews called him Epipmanes (“madman”). In December of 168 B.C., Antiochus IV captured Jerusalem and seized the temple, converting it into a temple for Zeus and sacrificing a pig on the altar. The Jews fled, scattering from Jerusalem. This act was horrendous, but it did provide impetus for the Maccabean revolt and the Jews’ short period of autonomous rule.
In 176 B.C. an ambassador of Antiochus IV came to a little town called Modin to force the villagers to make sacrifices to the Greek gods. Under this coercion, one villager ventured forward to make a sacrifice, and the priest of Modin, Mattathias, was outraged. He killed the villager and then fled to the hills to hide with his sons. This began the Maccabean revolt.
Mattathias’s son Judas was the first leader of the resistance. Known as Judas Maccabeus (“the hammer”) because of his military and tactical skills, he defeated armies much larger than his own. His brother Jonathan became leader when he was killed in an ambush. Jonathan was not nearly so skilled in military maneuvers, but he was an excellent diplomat and managed to negotiate several treaties that helped advance the eventual independence of the Jewish people. Simon was the last of Mattathias’s sons to become a leader. He became high priest when the Jews finally gained their independence and began a leadership that combined both religious and civil authority.
The Jewish rule that began with the Maccabees lasted from 143 to 63 B.C. and entailed a succession of mostly weak rulers. Eventually, two brothers, Hyrcanus II and Aristobulus II, fought for control of the nation, and Rome, seeing the opportunity, stepped in to seize control. Once again, the Jews had lost their independence. But however short, the Hashmonean period had several effects worthy of attention: Jewish nationalism was greatly stirred, expectation of the Messiah was running at a high, and the Pharisees and Sadducees had developed.
The Roman governorship of Palestine began with the Herodian dynasty, under Antipater, then Herod the Great, who ruled from 47 to 4 B.C. Herod the Great was an astonishing architect, and he oversaw the rebuilding of the temple at Jerusalem in 20 B.C. The Jews experienced little political or religious interference from the Romans at this time, though the underlying Roman hatred of the idea of a Jewish Messiah (which, to the Roman mind, represented a threat to Roman authority) would later become evident when Herod the Great issued a decree to have all the children under two years old murdered when he heard that the Messiah had been born. The Roman rulers of Palestine who followed were Herod the Great’s sons, Archelaus, Herod Philip II, and Herod Antipas (who had John the Baptist killed and was involved in the later trial of Jesus). There were many other Roman governors of Palestine as well, but only three are mentioned in the New Testament—Pontius Pilate, Felix, and Festus.
The Roman rule had much effect on the Jewish people in preparation for entrance of the Messiah. The Roman system of roads provided an easy connection between nearly all places, and the Roman law made for a time of relative peace. This would tremendously facilitate the spread of the gospel. Also, Roman law officially recognized Judaism as a legitimate religion, which would protect the growth of Christianity (originally considered a branch of Judaism) during its early years.
The religion of the time was also an important factor in preparing the world for Jesus’ coming. Many religions existed in Rome—pantheism, emperor worship, mystery religions, Gnosticism, and philosophy. Judaism itself was changing in many ways. With the dispersion of the Jews during the Babylonian exile and the persecution of Antiochus IV, the Jews had been spread throughout the Roman Empire. They no longer spoke solely Hebrew; Greek and Aramaic were known by most. The Septuagint had been translated under Ptolemy Philadelphius. The temple had been destroyed and rebuilt, and synagogues had been established in many places for teaching and preserving the Jewish culture and religion. Pharisees and Sadducees had emerged, as well as the scribes, zealots, Herodians, and Essenes (Jewish isolationists). The Jews had a renewed sense of nationalism, and expectation of the Messiah was running high.
Now God, through these radical movements in politics, religion, culture, and philosophy, had all the pieces perfectly in place; the world was ready for Jesus to come. The Roman roads and common Greek language, the expectation of the Messiah, the fierce nationality that the Jews were feeling—none had come about by accident, but all were by divine design.
And what happened next? We know the story because it is recorded. The “400 Years of Silence” were broken with the proclamation of angels. The four Gospels record the unbelievable new history that began to unfold, beginning in Bethlehem, with the birth of Jesus.
And THIS is why I've loved my little historical "rabbit trail" so much.
So, I'm going to jump right back in:
Not too long after this (see the previous post) came the notorious Antiochus IV. He was a prideful ruler who called himself Epiphanes, meaning “manifest god,” and he enforced the Hellenization of the Jews with ruthless cruelty. The Jews called him Epipmanes (“madman”). In December of 168 B.C., Antiochus IV captured Jerusalem and seized the temple, converting it into a temple for Zeus and sacrificing a pig on the altar. The Jews fled, scattering from Jerusalem. This act was horrendous, but it did provide impetus for the Maccabean revolt and the Jews’ short period of autonomous rule.
In 176 B.C. an ambassador of Antiochus IV came to a little town called Modin to force the villagers to make sacrifices to the Greek gods. Under this coercion, one villager ventured forward to make a sacrifice, and the priest of Modin, Mattathias, was outraged. He killed the villager and then fled to the hills to hide with his sons. This began the Maccabean revolt.
Mattathias’s son Judas was the first leader of the resistance. Known as Judas Maccabeus (“the hammer”) because of his military and tactical skills, he defeated armies much larger than his own. His brother Jonathan became leader when he was killed in an ambush. Jonathan was not nearly so skilled in military maneuvers, but he was an excellent diplomat and managed to negotiate several treaties that helped advance the eventual independence of the Jewish people. Simon was the last of Mattathias’s sons to become a leader. He became high priest when the Jews finally gained their independence and began a leadership that combined both religious and civil authority.
The Jewish rule that began with the Maccabees lasted from 143 to 63 B.C. and entailed a succession of mostly weak rulers. Eventually, two brothers, Hyrcanus II and Aristobulus II, fought for control of the nation, and Rome, seeing the opportunity, stepped in to seize control. Once again, the Jews had lost their independence. But however short, the Hashmonean period had several effects worthy of attention: Jewish nationalism was greatly stirred, expectation of the Messiah was running at a high, and the Pharisees and Sadducees had developed.
The Roman governorship of Palestine began with the Herodian dynasty, under Antipater, then Herod the Great, who ruled from 47 to 4 B.C. Herod the Great was an astonishing architect, and he oversaw the rebuilding of the temple at Jerusalem in 20 B.C. The Jews experienced little political or religious interference from the Romans at this time, though the underlying Roman hatred of the idea of a Jewish Messiah (which, to the Roman mind, represented a threat to Roman authority) would later become evident when Herod the Great issued a decree to have all the children under two years old murdered when he heard that the Messiah had been born. The Roman rulers of Palestine who followed were Herod the Great’s sons, Archelaus, Herod Philip II, and Herod Antipas (who had John the Baptist killed and was involved in the later trial of Jesus). There were many other Roman governors of Palestine as well, but only three are mentioned in the New Testament—Pontius Pilate, Felix, and Festus.
The Roman rule had much effect on the Jewish people in preparation for entrance of the Messiah. The Roman system of roads provided an easy connection between nearly all places, and the Roman law made for a time of relative peace. This would tremendously facilitate the spread of the gospel. Also, Roman law officially recognized Judaism as a legitimate religion, which would protect the growth of Christianity (originally considered a branch of Judaism) during its early years.
The religion of the time was also an important factor in preparing the world for Jesus’ coming. Many religions existed in Rome—pantheism, emperor worship, mystery religions, Gnosticism, and philosophy. Judaism itself was changing in many ways. With the dispersion of the Jews during the Babylonian exile and the persecution of Antiochus IV, the Jews had been spread throughout the Roman Empire. They no longer spoke solely Hebrew; Greek and Aramaic were known by most. The Septuagint had been translated under Ptolemy Philadelphius. The temple had been destroyed and rebuilt, and synagogues had been established in many places for teaching and preserving the Jewish culture and religion. Pharisees and Sadducees had emerged, as well as the scribes, zealots, Herodians, and Essenes (Jewish isolationists). The Jews had a renewed sense of nationalism, and expectation of the Messiah was running high.
Now God, through these radical movements in politics, religion, culture, and philosophy, had all the pieces perfectly in place; the world was ready for Jesus to come. The Roman roads and common Greek language, the expectation of the Messiah, the fierce nationality that the Jews were feeling—none had come about by accident, but all were by divine design.
And what happened next? We know the story because it is recorded. The “400 Years of Silence” were broken with the proclamation of angels. The four Gospels record the unbelievable new history that began to unfold, beginning in Bethlehem, with the birth of Jesus.
And THIS is why I've loved my little historical "rabbit trail" so much.
9.26.2007
A Little History Lesson
I’ve been in Daniel this past week, and I’ve been particularly interested in the account of Nebuchadnezzar’s dream in chapter 2—a dream of a great statue representing four powerful Gentile kingdoms (Babylon, Medo-Persia, Greece, and Rome). You remember: the gold head, the silver arms/chest, etc. Anyway, this somehow catapulted me into a study of the “Intertestamental Period,” the time when a lot of the action involving Israel and the Gentile kingdoms took place.
I know, I’m a nerd.
And yes. You’re about to have a history lesson. Put on your “nerd” hats, everyone.
Here’s the motivation to hear this, though: it’s an incredible lesson in God’s power and transcendence, yet also startling immanence, in His dealings with earthly kingdoms. He’s sovereign over them (as Nebuchadnezzar learned) and orchestrates every detail along the lines of redemptive history. So this “dusty old history” actually is incredibly significant. For those of you who are still reading at this point, here’s a “brief” summary of my studies:
Scripture doesn’t record the 400 years of the Intertestamental Period—the span from the closing of the Old Testament to the opening of the New Testament. These years (424 B.C. to 4 or 5 B.C., I think) are called the “Silent Years” or the “400 Years of Silence” because there was no new word from God during this time. Prophecy ceased, and God’s work with His people shifted to a solely providential/historical platform (until the coming of Christ). The term “silent” shouldn’t give the impression of dormancy, though; this was a time of dynamic change in the political and societal powers of Israel and the surrounding nations—climactic developments that prepared the way for the advent of the Messiah and the spread of the gospel throughout the known world. From an earthly viewpoint, the nations probably seemed to be changing haphazardly, by chance, but God actually was very much at work, ordering everything to accommodate His redemptive plan.
Anyway, the Intertestamental Period began after Malachi, the last Old Testament prophetic book, was written. Persia had overthrown Babylon (as recorded in Daniel) and declared that the Jews could start returning to Judea, regrouping and rebuilding (as recorded in Ezra and Nehemiah). During this time, the Persian government appointed the high priest as civil leader in Judah. Also, synagogues were built to preserve Jewish culture and religion. It was a time of relative peace...but not for long.
In 331 B.C., Alexander the Great overthrew Persia, with his grandiose vision to unite the world under the Greek empire and culture. To facilitate this, he established learning centers in various cities. This actually was very significant for the yet-to-come-Christianity, because it created widespread commonality of culture, philosophy, and language—something that would be a tremendous help in the rapid spread of the gospel.
When Alexander died without an heir, his empire was divided among his four generals. The first to reign over Palestine was Ptolemy I, and during his rule, the Jewish scribes (who copied and interpreted the written Law) and the Sanhedrin (the Jewish ruling body, composed of seventy members and a high priest) developed. Then, during the reign of Ptolemy II Philadelphius, the Hebrew Old Testament was translated into Greek—producing what we know as the Septuagint.
Annnddd...this will have to be continued in a day or two. (It's getting way too long.) Stay tuned!
I know, I’m a nerd.
And yes. You’re about to have a history lesson. Put on your “nerd” hats, everyone.
Here’s the motivation to hear this, though: it’s an incredible lesson in God’s power and transcendence, yet also startling immanence, in His dealings with earthly kingdoms. He’s sovereign over them (as Nebuchadnezzar learned) and orchestrates every detail along the lines of redemptive history. So this “dusty old history” actually is incredibly significant. For those of you who are still reading at this point, here’s a “brief” summary of my studies:
Scripture doesn’t record the 400 years of the Intertestamental Period—the span from the closing of the Old Testament to the opening of the New Testament. These years (424 B.C. to 4 or 5 B.C., I think) are called the “Silent Years” or the “400 Years of Silence” because there was no new word from God during this time. Prophecy ceased, and God’s work with His people shifted to a solely providential/historical platform (until the coming of Christ). The term “silent” shouldn’t give the impression of dormancy, though; this was a time of dynamic change in the political and societal powers of Israel and the surrounding nations—climactic developments that prepared the way for the advent of the Messiah and the spread of the gospel throughout the known world. From an earthly viewpoint, the nations probably seemed to be changing haphazardly, by chance, but God actually was very much at work, ordering everything to accommodate His redemptive plan.
Anyway, the Intertestamental Period began after Malachi, the last Old Testament prophetic book, was written. Persia had overthrown Babylon (as recorded in Daniel) and declared that the Jews could start returning to Judea, regrouping and rebuilding (as recorded in Ezra and Nehemiah). During this time, the Persian government appointed the high priest as civil leader in Judah. Also, synagogues were built to preserve Jewish culture and religion. It was a time of relative peace...but not for long.
In 331 B.C., Alexander the Great overthrew Persia, with his grandiose vision to unite the world under the Greek empire and culture. To facilitate this, he established learning centers in various cities. This actually was very significant for the yet-to-come-Christianity, because it created widespread commonality of culture, philosophy, and language—something that would be a tremendous help in the rapid spread of the gospel.
When Alexander died without an heir, his empire was divided among his four generals. The first to reign over Palestine was Ptolemy I, and during his rule, the Jewish scribes (who copied and interpreted the written Law) and the Sanhedrin (the Jewish ruling body, composed of seventy members and a high priest) developed. Then, during the reign of Ptolemy II Philadelphius, the Hebrew Old Testament was translated into Greek—producing what we know as the Septuagint.
Annnddd...this will have to be continued in a day or two. (It's getting way too long.) Stay tuned!
9.25.2007
The Youth-anizing of America
Remember Peter Pan’s sing-song caw—“I'll never grow up!”? It seems that this inadvertently has become the slogan of America’s young adults.
On his blog, Dr. Al Mohler recently reviewed Diana West’s book The Death of the Grown-up, which gives interesting insights into the trend of “prolonged adolescence.” This is something academics have noted for a while now: American youth are simply taking a lot longer to mature than they used to. (Dr. Mohler’s review is here.)
In a September 30, 2004, article on USAToday.com (entitled “It’s Time to Grow Up—Later”) Sharon Jayson wrote, “Recent findings published by the American Sociological Association and based on U.S. Census data show a sharp decline in the percentage of young adults who have finished school, left home, gotten married, had a child and reached financial independence, considered typical standards of adulthood. In 2000, 46% of women and 31% of men had reached those markers by age 30, vs. 77% of women and 65% of men at the same age in 1960.”
I find this intriguing, principally because I myself am a 20-something post-undergraduate. The statistics are compelling, and I have to admit that, statistics or no, I would concede that young adults do have a bit of that Peter Pan mentality these days; we just aren’t in that much of a hurry to grow up. And our baby-boomer parents are scratching their heads, bemused at how this contrasts where they were in life at our age
Now, there is some uncertainty as to whether this trend should be blamed solely on young people’s stubborn refusal to “grow up.” Other factors are posited: longer life spans, relaxed sexual/marital standards, and, maybe most significant, the fact that preparing for a decent job takes a lot longer than it used to—the bachelor’s degree being the new high-school diploma, they say.
Jayson commented, “In the 1970s, a bachelor’s degree could launch a career and support a family. Not anymore. Now, graduate school is almost a necessity and that means greater expenses, often when students are still saddled with college loans. More years of schooling also mean a delay entering the workforce. In this down economy, there's also stiffer competition for jobs. Financial independence is but a dream for many.”
Which is why many 20-somethings are moving back in with their parents, studies have found.
So, there is some ostensible credence to the idea that prolonged adolescence (or “arrested development”) isn’t entirely the fault of the—well, the prolonged adolescents.
But I hesitate to attribute this growth problem fully to outside factors, either. My generation is admittedly the self-esteem generation. Honestly, I think it likely that we have been coddled and “self-actualized” into a veritable Neverland of self-centeredness—and I have to wonder whether this disproportionate focus on self hasn't deadened our sense of commitment and responsibility (both personally and societally). That might help explain why so many college graduates these days forego entering the educated workforce in favor of backpacking Europe or living at home indefinitely, while trying to figure out “what I really want to do.”
What is equally interesting to ponder is whether this problem truly is just with America’s 20-somethings, or if it reaches beyond. Actually, this is what makes West’s book a bit unique, according to Mohler. She explores American culture and the interaction/participation of adults in the adolescent culture. Mohler quotes her as saying, “More adults, ages eighteen to forty-nine, watch the Cartoon Network than watch CNN. Readers as old as twenty-five are buying ‘young adult’ fiction written expressly for teens. The average video gamester was eighteen in 1990; now he's going on thirty.” And he comments, “Teenagers of an older generation tried to identify with adult culture. Now, the tables are turned.” He then quotes West as saying, “These days, of course, father and son dress more or less alike, from message-emblazoned t-shirts to chunky athletic shoes, both equally at ease in the baggy rumple of eternal summer camp. In the mature male, these trappings of adolescence have become more than a matter of comfort or style; they reveal a state of mind, a reflection of a personality that hasn't fully developed, and doesn't want to—or worse, doesn't know how.”
What are the implications? Mohler summarizes this chillingly well: “This kind of pattern is far more likely to bring down a civilization than to build a new one in its place. Civilizations require adults. The second part of West's book argues that this pattern of ‘arrested development’ leaves America unprepared to confront challenges like Islam and terrorism.” This is frightening indeed. We sit watching Sponge Bob and playing Wii while the rest of the “grown up” world carries on with...what?
Anyway, this obviously isn't something new. But I do think it's worth taking a few minutes to read through and mull over.
On his blog, Dr. Al Mohler recently reviewed Diana West’s book The Death of the Grown-up, which gives interesting insights into the trend of “prolonged adolescence.” This is something academics have noted for a while now: American youth are simply taking a lot longer to mature than they used to. (Dr. Mohler’s review is here.)
In a September 30, 2004, article on USAToday.com (entitled “It’s Time to Grow Up—Later”) Sharon Jayson wrote, “Recent findings published by the American Sociological Association and based on U.S. Census data show a sharp decline in the percentage of young adults who have finished school, left home, gotten married, had a child and reached financial independence, considered typical standards of adulthood. In 2000, 46% of women and 31% of men had reached those markers by age 30, vs. 77% of women and 65% of men at the same age in 1960.”
I find this intriguing, principally because I myself am a 20-something post-undergraduate. The statistics are compelling, and I have to admit that, statistics or no, I would concede that young adults do have a bit of that Peter Pan mentality these days; we just aren’t in that much of a hurry to grow up. And our baby-boomer parents are scratching their heads, bemused at how this contrasts where they were in life at our age
Now, there is some uncertainty as to whether this trend should be blamed solely on young people’s stubborn refusal to “grow up.” Other factors are posited: longer life spans, relaxed sexual/marital standards, and, maybe most significant, the fact that preparing for a decent job takes a lot longer than it used to—the bachelor’s degree being the new high-school diploma, they say.
Jayson commented, “In the 1970s, a bachelor’s degree could launch a career and support a family. Not anymore. Now, graduate school is almost a necessity and that means greater expenses, often when students are still saddled with college loans. More years of schooling also mean a delay entering the workforce. In this down economy, there's also stiffer competition for jobs. Financial independence is but a dream for many.”
Which is why many 20-somethings are moving back in with their parents, studies have found.
So, there is some ostensible credence to the idea that prolonged adolescence (or “arrested development”) isn’t entirely the fault of the—well, the prolonged adolescents.
But I hesitate to attribute this growth problem fully to outside factors, either. My generation is admittedly the self-esteem generation. Honestly, I think it likely that we have been coddled and “self-actualized” into a veritable Neverland of self-centeredness—and I have to wonder whether this disproportionate focus on self hasn't deadened our sense of commitment and responsibility (both personally and societally). That might help explain why so many college graduates these days forego entering the educated workforce in favor of backpacking Europe or living at home indefinitely, while trying to figure out “what I really want to do.”
What is equally interesting to ponder is whether this problem truly is just with America’s 20-somethings, or if it reaches beyond. Actually, this is what makes West’s book a bit unique, according to Mohler. She explores American culture and the interaction/participation of adults in the adolescent culture. Mohler quotes her as saying, “More adults, ages eighteen to forty-nine, watch the Cartoon Network than watch CNN. Readers as old as twenty-five are buying ‘young adult’ fiction written expressly for teens. The average video gamester was eighteen in 1990; now he's going on thirty.” And he comments, “Teenagers of an older generation tried to identify with adult culture. Now, the tables are turned.” He then quotes West as saying, “These days, of course, father and son dress more or less alike, from message-emblazoned t-shirts to chunky athletic shoes, both equally at ease in the baggy rumple of eternal summer camp. In the mature male, these trappings of adolescence have become more than a matter of comfort or style; they reveal a state of mind, a reflection of a personality that hasn't fully developed, and doesn't want to—or worse, doesn't know how.”
What are the implications? Mohler summarizes this chillingly well: “This kind of pattern is far more likely to bring down a civilization than to build a new one in its place. Civilizations require adults. The second part of West's book argues that this pattern of ‘arrested development’ leaves America unprepared to confront challenges like Islam and terrorism.” This is frightening indeed. We sit watching Sponge Bob and playing Wii while the rest of the “grown up” world carries on with...what?
Anyway, this obviously isn't something new. But I do think it's worth taking a few minutes to read through and mull over.
9.24.2007
A Resurrection
I've recently discovered something about blogs: if you don't update them, no one reads them. (I know; this is shocking.) Over the last few months, my posting frequency on Xanga has plummeted from the "sporadic" level to somewhere near "nonexistent." This, understandably, has resulted in the site becoming something of a wasteland. (You could almost see the tumbleweeds rolling across the screen and hear the coyotes howling.) I thought about trying to breathe some new life into that site, renovating what I had, but then decided that an all-around fresh start might be better (and easier). So, this is my attempt to shake off the "blog reticence" and stake my claim on a little corner of the Web.
Why the sudden reinterest in blogging? Well, a lack of writing would seem to indicate: (1) that nothing's happening in my life, and/or (2) that I have nothing to say about anything (and thus am not thinking very much--or very critically--about anything). Well, the first definitely is not true. There's a lot going on in my life these days, and I know there are at least a few people who like to know about these things. And the second...well, as much as I hate to admit it, it does ring truer. It's easy to fall prey to monotony and exchange reason for rote. But I don't like to see it happen.
Anyway, the point I'm oh-so-slowly arriving at is that, if for no other reasons than (1) to keep the few interested people updated on what I'm up to and (2) to keep myself engaged in some form of mental activity, I'm going to be updated this blog MUCH more often than I did the other one--starting now. Check back very soon!
Why the sudden reinterest in blogging? Well, a lack of writing would seem to indicate: (1) that nothing's happening in my life, and/or (2) that I have nothing to say about anything (and thus am not thinking very much--or very critically--about anything). Well, the first definitely is not true. There's a lot going on in my life these days, and I know there are at least a few people who like to know about these things. And the second...well, as much as I hate to admit it, it does ring truer. It's easy to fall prey to monotony and exchange reason for rote. But I don't like to see it happen.
Anyway, the point I'm oh-so-slowly arriving at is that, if for no other reasons than (1) to keep the few interested people updated on what I'm up to and (2) to keep myself engaged in some form of mental activity, I'm going to be updated this blog MUCH more often than I did the other one--starting now. Check back very soon!
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