The Challenges of Gift Giving

Another Christmas has come and gone, and with it the pressures of Christmas shopping and gift giving. It's not that I'm a stingy person--I love to be generous and give gifts to the people I love. But I don't like feeling like Christmas gift giving has evolved into a duty, the challenge of buying things for people who have everything that they need--as well as a lot of stuff that they don't need. It's the tension of avoiding Christmas becoming all about the physical things we can buy for each other while focusing on the reality that the Word became flesh--our God took on a physical body to attain for us the spiritual blessings that none of us could ever buy.


I wouldn't want to do away with gift giving, I suppose. Gift giving motivated by love can be meaningful and joyful. But I yearn, like blogger Amy Julia Becker, for a time when gifts meant more because they were something beyond the everyday. Amy Julia explains:


My idealized version of Christmas comes from “Little House on the Prairie,” where Christmas involved treats and presents that weren’t a part of every day life. Laura and Mary couldn’t imagine anything better than a stocking with a tin cup, a peppermint stick and a shiny new penny. I would love for our Christmas celebration to approximate their sense of delight. But I can only imagine one way for Christmas morning to become a time of celebrating the material world and humbly receiving from one another. We would have to live more simply for the other 364 days of the year.

In the world of the Little House family, when an orange and peppermint stick were once-in-a-year events, it was relatively easy to find gifts that would delight the receivers.  Those peppermint sticks and oranges didn't have to compete with smart phones, flat-screen TVs, game systems, and e-readers. And the relationships among family members satisfied then what many of us try to satisfy today with things that drive us away from meaningful human relationships. What could possibly provide this level of delight in our fast-food, Facebook, texting, smart-phone world, where our problem is finding space for all of the stuff we already have, never mind room for all the new stuff we don't need--or even want? 


This year, I think my daughter Katie had the right idea. A college student, she is operating on a limited budget. We encourage her to use whatever money she earns from babysitting jobs, photography clients, and her on-campus job in the library for the things she needs: tuition, books, day to day expenses. She wanted to give gifts to her family, but she didn't have much to work with. She adopted a chapter from the Little House books and bought each of us small treats that she knew we would enjoy. For Henry and me, a small box of Belgium chocolates. For her brother, some kind of Japanese soda with a marble in it that is released when you open the bottle. She gave similar treats to her grandparents. I loved watching her hand out her well-thought-out treats and the delight she obviously felt as we received them with gratitude. Things that aren't part of the every day, things carefully thought out and lovingly given. Things that didn't cost much in dollars.


And then there was Jonathan, whose face lit up when he opened up the package with the Answers in Genesis book that he asked for. The truth is, he would have been thrilled to have found a laptop or expensive game system under the tree. But if he had, I'm not sure he would have found the book so exciting, and I'd rather he learn, for now, the value of the gift of learning.


So while I still haven't entirely figured this gift-giving thing out, some good things happened this year at Christmas. Next Christmas, I'm sure, will be the one where I figure it all out.

An Exciting Evening at Our House

It's been really crazy lately--one of those stretches when we barely have time to breathe, when one event barely ends and the next is beginning, when Henry and I found ourselves asking the dreaded question, "Will we ever have a date night again?" and truly thinking that it's possible that we may not. And that question was followed by "Why does everything happen all at once?"

So tonight, I left work a little late because I have a project with a looming deadline that I probably won't make, ran a few errands, and arrived home around 6:00. Jonathan was at his grandparents' house, and Katie doesn't come home for Christmas break until tomorrow night. Just Henry and me. And nothing we had to do, no place we had to go, no one to transport anywhere.

We didn't get any meat out of the freezer for dinner, so Henry suggested we just clean up some leftovers, which made dinner--and clean-up--quick and easy. In one of those this-almost-never-happens moments, we realized that it was 7:00--and really didn't have anything we had to do. And this is how the conversation went:

Annette: I feel like I should be doing something.
Henry: We should go for a walk.
Annette: It's 24 degrees outside.
Henry: People mall walk. We should mall walk.
Annette: Where do you want to go?
Henry: Meijer?
Annette: I don't think we'd be able to get much exercise there. I should just go to the mall and go Christmas shopping.
Henry: What are you going to get?
Annette: I don't know.
Henry: Then don't go.
Annette: What are you going to do? Do you need to work?
Henry: We could . . . relax.
Annette: Well, what are you going to do to relax?
Henry: We could read . . . watch Doc Martin, Monk, or Cranford.
Annette: Hmmm . . . read . . . I could blog! And we could listen to music.

And so it's official. We've turned into those people who don't know how to relax.We even have to work hard to figure out how we're going to relax. And even as I type this, I'm thinking that there must be something that I should be doing. But I'm just going to breathe and dream of that great Christmas tradition--the one with Mama in her kerchief and Papa in his cap, just settling down for a long winter's nap. And maybe I'll read.

Communication and Culture

My doom-and-gloom perspective on contemporary means of communication stems, at least in part, from the history minor in me. Just a few examples from history demonstrate well how our means of communication and our use of language shape us culturally—for good or bad. An early example of communication misused occurs in Genesis 11, where the “whole earth was of one language, and of one speech.” The people used their language to work together to build a tower whose top would reach to heaven so that they would not be scattered over the earth. And because that was not God’s plan for humanity, he addressed this misuse of communication to confuse the people’s tongues, so that they were forced to scatter over the earth. This misuse is corrected by God in Acts 2, where the people gather and hear the gospel proclaimed in their own languages. In this incident we see the greatest use of language—the proclamation of the good news of the gospel—and we see language being used for its highest purpose.


If we skip ahead a few centuries we see the abuse of communication again as the Roman church conducted religious instruction in Latin, so that there was no need or opportunity for most people to learn to read. Only the highly educated clergy had the opportunity to learn to read, and even when they did, the options of what to read were limited. And that is what is so amazing about the Reformation and the invention of the printing press. Now there were books to read, and the Reformers, starting with Luther, saw the need to translate the Scriptures into the common tongue. Once again, communication was used positively to shape culture, as there was now opportunity, incentive, and the ability to communicate more widely the truths of God’s Word. Theology, education, the sciences, politics—all were developed more fully because of the ability to communicate more deeply and more widely than ever before.

And now we have Facebook, texting, e-mail, Twitter—a whole new world of communicative tools that allow us to communicate more widely, but not more deeply. And so I wonder how this communication will shape us—is shaping us. The saddest thing I’ve recently heard is a situation where a young woman has moved away from home. There is a rift between her and her parents, who love her very much. A couple of weeks ago, she e-mailed them to tell them that she is pregnant. Her e-mail announcement to them was followed by a proud Facebook announcement to the world. The parents are devastated. The young woman should be.

I’ve read a couple of articles in the last week that are noteworthy. One is an article that looks at how teens are using Facebook and texting and how it is affecting their ability to think and learn. I’ve often wondered why people are so drawn in by Facebook, which seems to serve to let people know what near strangers ate for breakfast or what chores they've accomplished this morning. One teen in the article gave the most insightful answer to that question that I’ve read, explaining why he has a hard time getting his homework done: "I know I can read a book, but then I'm up and checking Facebook," he says, adding: "Facebook is amazing because it feels like you are doing something and you are not doing anything. It is the absence of doing something, but you feel gratified anyway." I don’t think there’s anything I could add to that. Read the rest of the article—especially if you have children—here: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/21/technology/21brain.html

The second article (http://www.latimes.com/news/opinion/commentary/la-oe-gabler-zuckerberg-20101128,0,7889675.story) talks about communication in history, and contrasts the changes between the invention of Gutenberg (the printing press) and Zuckerberg (Facebook):

"Gutenberg's Revolution transformed the world by broadening it, by proliferating ideas. Zuckerberg's Revolution also may change consciousness, only this time by razing what Gutenberg had helped erect. The more we text and Twitter and 'friend,' abiding by the haiku-like demands of social networking, the less likely we are to have the habit of mind or the means of expressing ourselves in interesting and complex ways.

"That makes Zuckerberg the anti-Gutenberg. He has facilitated a typography in which complexity is all but impossible and meaninglessness reigns supreme. To the extent that ideas matter, we are no longer amusing ourselves to death. We are texting ourselves to death."

So what happens to a culture that misuses communication, that doesn’t even have the lofty goal of building a tower to heaven, that seeks only instant gratification? Perhaps a historical analysis of the culture of Rome can answer that.

John’s Thesis

"But these are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name."
                                ~John 20:31


I began to learn to write in Mrs. Grosh's freshman composition class. As in most freshman composition classes, we began writing paragraphs: description, persuasion, comparison/contrast. The paragraph was to begin, of course, with a thesis statement—an assertion of something that had to be proven. And then came the hard part: Mrs. Grosh insisted that every sentence in the paragraph had to support the thesis. If it didn't, it didn't belong in the paragraph. It doesn't sound that hard, but finding a thesis statement that was neither too broad nor too narrow and then shaping sentences so that they somehow tied back to the thesis could be a challenge. And Mrs. Grosh was one of those tough but amazing teachers who had high expectations for her students. I think I finally started getting it when I took advanced composition with her my sophomore year in college.

The apostle John would have done well in Mrs. Grosh's composition classes. He establishes his thesis in his first chapter, writes most of the rest of his gospel to demonstrate his thesis, and then wraps it up with the conclusion of John 20:31. And with every word that he writes, every incident that he details for us, every character that we meet along the way, John is masterfully demonstrating his thesis: that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God.

The Bible study I attend started studying the gospel of John this fall, and after three meetings, we're still on the first chapter. It's a fascinating book, and there are seemingly endless things that have been written about it and that I could write about here.

So how does John make his case that this Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God in the famous first eighteen verses—his prologue? He begins by telling us that in the beginning (reminding his readers of the book of Genesis) was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. His Greek readers would have said, "Right—we know about the Word, the logos. It's the ordering principle behind all things. It's the source of reason and wisdom in the universe. Nothing new here, John."

His Jewish readers would also have responded positively to the idea that there was a Word in the beginning. This concept had rich meaning for them as well. For them, "Word" was always attached to deed, so that God spoke a word and brought creation into being. The Old Testament prophets would speak the Word, and something would happen. Because they wanted to avoid using the name of God for fear of blaspheming, Jews adopted other words that were a kind of code for God. One of those was "the Word." John had nothing new for them, either.

John tells us that the Word existed from the beginning—before all things. He also says the Word was "with God," subtly informing us that Jesus is a distinct person in the Trinity. Finally, he says the Word was God, and since we understand that the Word is Jesus, we see that Jesus is fully divine; all that can be said about God the Father can be said about God the Son. He goes on use words like light and life, again reminding us of Genesis 1, to tell us more about this Word.

But then, in verse 14, John writes the shocking thing that would have made both Jew and Greek—and us today—sit up and take notice: "And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth."

For thirteen verses, John has been telling us that this Word was divine, with all of the qualities that both Jews and Greeks would expect a divine being to have. And now, all of a sudden, John tells his readers that the "Word became flesh and dwelt among us." And that's the surprise—that God would come down, take on human flesh, and dwell among men.

Why would God do that? That's what John will be explaining for the rest of his gospel.

Jonathan 1-2-3

Interesting fact about Jonathan: he was born at 1:23 am on November 3, 1993, which makes him seventeen years old yesterday. Is Jonathan as easy as 1-2-3? Sometimes yes, sometimes no. When we go to parent-teacher conferences and we hear things like this: (1) Jonathan is a great Christian kid, (2)Jonathan will be a great success someday, (3) Jonathan is a joy to have in class, we think yes, he is as easy as 1-2-3. When he needs new clothes and I ask him if he wants to come with me to the mall to pick them out, he tells me to just get what I think is good--and that is pretty easy. If the Republicans, Red Wings, or Tigers win, he's happy; if they don't, he's not. Easy. On his pizza--pepperoni only. It doesn't get much easier than that.

But when you hear Jonathan talk apologetics or politics, you know there's more to him than a simple 1-2-3. When he's listening to a sermon in church or answering questions during family devotions and I wonder how he could ever have possibly known that answer, I realize that there's more than 1, 2, and 3 multiplied many times over there.

There are a few other ways that Jonathan isn't as easy as 1-2-3 at times, but I won't mention them here. I'm just very thankful that on November 3, 1993, Jonathan was born at 1:23 am. Happy birthday!

Samuel Rutherford,or When the Past Comes Back to Haunt You But It Turns Out to Be a Friendly Ghost

I groaned a little inside when I was handed the next Profiles in Spiritualty project to edit a couple of months ago. Each title in the Profiles in Spirituality series briefly introduces a significant theologian, like John Calvin or Jonathan Edwards, and then provides some brief excerpts from their writings in somewhat updated language to make them accessible to lay readers. This one was to be on Samuel Rutherford, a Scottish theologian who lived during the seventeenth century.

Rutherford is no stranger to me. In fact, back in the eighties when my first husband was writing his master's thesis on Samuel Rutherford, our small apartment was filled with books and notecards devoted to him. Most conversations with Jon somehow involved this Scottish Covenanter, who was invading my space, as only someone else's master's thesis subject can. I hoped that I might not hear his name again during my lifetime, but here was Mr. Rutherford again, this time for some one on one with me.

And I have to say that he and I have become friends. He lived during a time of great political and theological turmoil, when the Scottish Reformed (Covenanters) were being thrown into prison and even executed for being faithful to God's Word. Rutherford, a pastor, was banished from his congregation in Anwoth to Aberdeen for writing and speaking against Arminianism. But this brought about his most famous writings, as he left behind over three hundred letters, most of them during this time of banishment, written to provide pastoral counsel to his beloved congregation.

Rutherford wrote many sermons and treatises, and he was in attendance when the Westminster Assembly wrote its famous Confession. But he is best known for his letters. And in a day and age when most communication is electronic--often in 140 characters or fewer--Rutherford's letters show the value of well-executed, carefully written communication that remains instructive for us today. I wonder how many tweets we'll still be reading five hundred years from now.

This is one of my favorite excerpts from Rutherford's letters, written to comfort a woman who had suffered the deaths of several children:

If your Ladyship is not changed (as I hope you are not), I believe you esteem yourself to be of those whom God has tried these many years and refined as silver. But, Madam, I will show your Ladyship a privilege that others want and you have, in this case. Such as are in prosperity and are fatted with earthly joys and increased with children and friends, though the Word of God is indeed written to such for their instruction, yet to you who are in trouble (spare me, Madam, to say this), from whom the Lord hath taken many children and whom He hath exercised otherwise, there are some chapters, some particular promises in the Word of God, made in a most special manner, which should never have been yours, as they now are, if you had your portion in this life as others. And, therefore, all the comforts, promises, and mercies God offers to the afflicted are as so many love letters written to you. Take them to you, Madam, and claim your right, and do not be robbed. It is no small comfort that God has written some scriptures to you that He has not written to others. You seem in this to be envied rather than pitied; and you are indeed in this, like people of another world and those that are above the ordinary rank of mankind, whom our King and Lord, our Bridegroom Jesus, in His love letter to His well-beloved spouse, has named beside all the rest. He has written comforts and His hearty commendations in Isaiah 54:4–5 and Psalm 147:2–3 to you. Read these and the like, and think your God is like a friend that sends a letter to a whole house and family but speaks in His letter to some by name that are dearest to Him in the house. You are, then, Madam, of the dearest friends of the Bridegroom. If it were lawful, I would envy you, that God honored you so above many of His dear children. Therefore, Madam, your part is, in this case (seeing God takes nothing from you but that which He is to supply with His own presence), to desire your Lord to know His own room and take it even upon Him to come in, in the room of dead children. “Jehovah, know Thy own place and take it to Thee,” is all you have to say.


Madam, I persuade myself that this world is to you a strange inn, and you are like a traveler who has his bundle upon his back and his staff in his hand and his feet upon the door-threshold. Go forward, honorable and elect lady, in the strength of your Lord (let the world bide at home and keep the house), with your face toward Him who longs more for a sight of you than you can do for Him. Before long, He will see us. I hope to see you laugh as cheerfully after noon as you have mourned before noon. The hand of the Lord, the hand of the Lord be with you in your journey. What have you to do here? This is not your mountain of rest. Arise, then, and set your foot up the mountain; go up out of the wilderness, leaning upon the shoulder of your Beloved (Song 8:5). If you knew the welcome that waits for you when you come home, you would hasten your pace; for you shall see your Lord put up His own holy hand to your face and wipe all tears from your eyes; and I believe, then you shall have some joy of heart.

  

It's Pretty Simple

The midterm elections we've been anticipating will finally be here next Tuesday. For those who still aren't sure how they're going to cast their vote, columnist Peggy Noonan brings clarity to the issues in her October 22, 2010 column:

"This election is about one man, Barack Obama, who fairly or not represents the following: the status quo, Washington, leftism, Nancy Pelosi, Fannie and Freddie, and deficits in trillions, not billions.
Everyone who votes is going to be pretty much voting yay or nay on all of that. And nothing can change that story line now."


So there. It's as simple as that.

10 Great Things about Fall

Katie Selden Photography Making Grandma's pumpkin muffin recipe and filling the house with the fragrance of cinnamon. Gray skies accented with gold, red, and black. Geese announcing that they are flying over our house every evening about 6:30. Feeling just a little bit chilly when I go out to my car in the morning and evening. Pumpkins and mums on my front porch. Needing the covers when I crawl into bed. Leaf dances in the woods behind the building where I work. Candy corn. The faint smell of smoke in the night air. Re-acquainting myself with my sweaters. Isn't this photo great? My daughter with hair the color of autumn leaves took it. You can see more of her photography here.

They’re Here!

I'm always very excited when books that I've edited actually become real, live books. And there are two that have just arrived that I really loved working on because they were great books to begin with, and the authors, in both cases, were a true joy to work with.

The first, Meeting Jesus at the Feast, is a publication of Reformed Fellowship, an organization very dear to me because its president is my own Henry. I fell in love with the book the first time I looked at the manuscript. The author, John Sittema, truly is a craftsman with words, and his insights about how the Old Testament feasts are fulfilled in Jesus Christ are often profound. He masterfully shows readers how the "New is in the Old concealed; the Old is in the New revealed" by taking a close look at the Old Testament feasts and showing how the Passover, the Sabbath, and the firstfruits (and the other feasts as well) are fulfilled in Christ and His ministry. If you're looking for a well-written Old Testament study that will enlighten your understanding of Scripture from start to finish, consider Meeting Jesus at the Feast, which you can purchase here.

The second title that I'm privileged to have worked on is Portrait of Paul, by Jeremy Walker and Rob Ventura. Jeremy has now become my favorite UK author to work with, with his clear communication of biblical truth, his great sense of humor, his way with words, and his attention to the details. Here's the publisher's description for the book, which is cleverly written to both pastors and laypeople:

What does a true pastor look like, and what constitutes a faithful ministry? How can we identify the life and labors of one called by God to serve in the church of Jesus Christ? To address these questions, Rob Ventura and Jeremy Walker examine how the apostle Paul describes his pastoral relation to the people of God in Colossians 1:24–2:5. By discussing these essential attitudes, qualities, and characteristics of a faithful minister of Christ, A Portrait of Paul provides gospel ministers an example of what they should be, and demonstrates for churches the kind of pastors they will seek if they desire men after God's own heart.

October is pastor appreciation month, and you still have time to let your pastor know how much you appreciate him. Portrait of Paul would make an excellent gift, and you can purchase it here. And for the next forty-eight hours, you can get this book, regularly priced at $18, for $5.

Mean, Naughty Pharaoh and the Plague of Owies

It's been a while since I spent some quality time with four-year-olds, so when I was asked to substitute teach for the preschool Sunday school class for a few weeks, I wasn't quite sure what to expect. I wasn't even quite sure any more what four-year-olds could do and understand. But I found the four-year-olds to be lots of fun, and Moses has never been more interesting to me than when I was telling his story to them.

The first week was a little disconcerting for the students. It was only the second week of Sunday school for the season, and already they had a different teacher from the one they had had the previous week. So I explained that their teacher had just had a new baby, and she needed to rest up for a few weeks before she came back to be their teacher. We went on with our lesson about Moses and the burning bush, and everything went pretty well. I was trying to explain to them that it was a miraculous thing that the bush never burned up. I picked up a paper and asked them, "What would happen if I lit this paper on fire? What would it look like after it burned for awhile?" Daniel wanted me to demonstrate what it would look like right then and there. I suggested we should just use our imaginations. I also learned in week 1 how quickly class time is over when we got the five-minute warning and we hadn't even started our crafts yet.

Week 2 had the kids asking me when "Mrs. Ybema" would be back. It didn't feel like a great start to the lesson, especially because Mrs. Ybema had been their teacher last year when they were three. I told them that Mrs. Tripp would be back as soon as she had rested up some more from having her baby. While the kids were coloring a picture of some children, Kristina suddenly spoke up and said, "Boys are brownish." She was, in fact, coloring the boy in her picture brown. I said, "Look at Jacob (the lone boy in the class). He isn't brownish." But Kristina insisted, "Boys are brownish." Good to know, Kristina.

Finally, last week, the kids seemed to be comfortable with me. During song time, they turned their little faces to watch me as we sang songs and did the motions, wanting to get it right. Nobody asked when the teacher would be back. In fact, Morgan, who is finally learning that I'm the one who is supposed to talk and she is the one who is supposed to listen, called me teacher. We learned about the first nine plagues that God sent to judge mean, naughty pharaoh (Kristina's apt description—he was mean and naughty). We also decided to change the name of the plague of boils to the plague of owies. And if you're four, a plague of owies is much more terrible than a plague of boils.

So now my time of service is over. Mrs. Tripp has rested up from having her baby and will be taking the class back. And even though I've been with them for only three weeks, I will miss the four-year-olds: Jacob's beautiful brown eyes and blond curls; Morgan's chatter; Emily's answer to every question (God—which, in fact, is the answer, and I hope she never forgets it); Kristina's four-year-old sense of humor; and Grace and Daniel and their cuteness. We've learned a lot of important things about Moses, God's power, and God's love for His people. And that boys are brownish.

An Open Letter

To Fashion Designers, Clothing Buyers, and Any Others Who Are Responsible for the Pathetic Selection of Women's Clothing in Department Stores Today:

I've just wasted three hours of my life in another futile attempt to buy clothes. And you would think that after so many such futile attempts, I would give up—except for one thing. My personal code of ethics—and the law—require me to wear clothes when I'm in public. The only thing that keeps me coming back is this: my desire not to be naked.

So here's a question for those of you who are making, designing, and selling clothes for women: do you have any idea what most women look like, what sizes they are, and what they want to wear? Life has taken its toll. Age, babies, the occasional order of French fries and desserts, and too little time and money to spare to spend it at the gym have left us wanting to dress in more than a piece of thin knit material that becomes translucent when stretched across a body that admittedly weighs 10 to 20 pounds more than it should. And while some of us have just given in and purchased the paper-thin garments you offer, others of us would prefer not to go around looking like one of those Pillbury biscuit cans that has just popped open, with the dough hanging out the edges. And even though we may be a little pudgy, we would still like to look nice and feel attractive. And I would be very happy to buy clothing that would achieve that—if only you would make it.

Another thing—why do you make twenty varieties of the same three styles for years on end? I have enough of the one-piece- that-looks-like-two shirt and vest sets. I'm still wearing the same ones that I bought several years ago when the style became popular, and I don't want any more. It's time to move on. And what's the deal with all of the cardigans again? I'm sick to death of layering—either because everything I buy is cut so low that modesty demands I wear something underneath or simply because the style requires it. And I WILL NOT wear leggings. And most of you out there past the age of 25 shouldn't be wearing them either. Give it up with the leggings!

And while I realize that this is a world gone crazy casual, there are still a few of us out there who are expected to wear something a little nicer than jeans and a hoodie to the office. I'm good with that; in fact, I prefer it. And if you were to pull out some of your old catalogs from a few years ago you would find an article called a skirt. I like wearing those too on occasion. Perhaps you could spend some of the energy directed toward coming up with another pattern for one-piece shirt and vest sets toward revisiting the skirt.

Clothing manufacturing industry, you are a disappointment to me. And yet I need you. And, believe it or not, you need me. Have you ever gone into a store at the close of a season and seen the racks and racks of leftover clothing that is now marked 75 percent off? Think about why that may be for a couple of minutes. While I don't think a government takeover of the fashion industry would solve the problem, something must be done. Soon. My clothes are wearing out.












 

Ten Things I Want My Kids to Know about Facebook

1. Facebook is only a tool. By itself it is neither evil nor good. What you do with it is evil or good.
2. Think of Facebook as a room full of people—some of them you don't know at all, some you know a little bit, and some you are very close to, like family and friends. Only say things on Facebook that you would say in that room full of people. For instance, if you walked into that room and started telling everyone how mad you were at someone, you'd get some strange looks at the least. You'd probably get some stares if you shared intimate details about your health or your feelings for someone else in the room as well.
3. When you post something on Facebook, whether words or images, ask yourself if what you're putting there will bring shame to Christ, to whom you belong.
4. Friends come very cheaply on Facebook. It takes little effort to post a word of sympathy in a time of difficulty or a word of congratulations in good times. Real friends will sit and cry with you when you are sad, and they will hug you and smile when they are happy for you. There are no hugs and tears on Facebook.
5. You can't be a real friend to someone on Facebook. Don't ever think that when you've written a note of sadness or encouragement on someone's wall that you've done your part and been a true friend.
6. Is what you're looking at on Facebook causing you to sin? Are you envious? Lusting? Angry? Better to pluck out your Facebook account than to sin.
7. Are you wasting time to visit Facebook? Are you visiting on an employer's time? Are you spending time on Facebook rather than doing something else you should be doing—like homework, spending time with a friend or family member, reading your Bible and praying?
8. Remember that by what you post you can be a stumbling block to others, causing them to sin.
9. Many people use Facebook much like a manufacturer of a product uses advertising--to create an identity for a product, and in this case, for themselves. You know about that person only what he or she wants you to know. So these people use Facebook to show you that they are popular, sexy, successful, or have a perfect family life. They create a false identity and find value in the affirmations of others. Don't use Facebook for that. Remember that your identity and value are in Christ, not in what you say about yourself or what others say about you. Don't seek affirmation on Facebook because the responses you get will be shallow and leave you craving more.
10. It might not be possible for people to identify you as a Christian by everything you post on Facebook—and that's okay—but don't post something that would cast doubt on the fact that you are a Christian.

Seeing Jesus

In John 12, some Greeks have come to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover. They approach Philip and tell him, "Sir, we would like to see Jesus." And ever since, God's people come together to hear the Word proclaimed, desiring to see Jesus. Sometimes we do. The bearer of the good news preaches mightily, beautifully, truthfully, passionately, so that we recognize our own unworthiness and our Savior's great worth. And we cry at the wonder of it all—that this perfect One—before time ever began—chose us to be His and established an elaborate plan to make us His own. We cry at our own unworthiness and His supreme worth, and we wonder how it could be that He could ever have an interest in us, never mind love us. And then our tears recede and we're filled with joy as we believe—again—that the good news is true: He does love us, has died for our sins, and has risen so that one day we can live with Him. We know in that moment that this is reality. The rest—from the bad economy and high taxes, to the failed carpool that leaves us wondering how our child will get to school, all the way down to the fact that we're cold in August in the out-of-control air conditioning and we have no sweater—fades away, and all we see is Jesus. And we think that this must be what heaven is like, in some way, the truth capturing our hearts and minds so that we focus on the one reality that truly matters—the beauty and glory of our Savior, Jesus Christ. And we wish that we could stay there and listen forever and marvel at it all—as we will in heaven.


At Puritan Reformed Theological Seminary's annual conference last weekend—The Beauty and Glory of Christ—the preachers showed us Jesus, again and again. It was beautiful. Get a sample of it here, with Iain D. Campbell's "He Is Altogether Lovely."  Your response will be "hallelujah" (meaning "praise God"), which speaker Dr. James Grier explained to us on Saturday morning is the one word in the Bible that is a command that we fulfill just by saying it (think about that). I noticed that the rest of the addresses were available on SermonAudio.com as well. None will disappoint.

OJ, D&W, and the Sabbath

It was a small victory, but it's one worth sharing. Besides, I told the cashier that I'd tell people about what happened. So here it is . . .

Last Friday, I went to one of my favorite local grocers, the Knapp's Corner D&W Fresh Market on the northeast side of Grand Rapids, to pick up some lunch and a couple of other items I needed. D&W is one of those rare grocery stores that is a pleasure to be in. You can forget that grocery shopping is a chore at D&W, with its clean new cutting-edge look, gourmet food items that you don't buy but that are fun to look at, and excellent wine selection. It also features a Starbucks that, without fail, offers samples every time I'm there. It costs more to buy groceries at D&W, but you're not just getting groceries, you're getting a shopping experience.

As I was walking in, I noticed a banner hanging from the ceiling, advertising a number of specials. The one that caught my eye was the carton of Tropicana orange juice for 99 cents a carton, limit three. Normally I get excited when it's on sale for two for five dollars, so you can imagine my thrill as I realized the great savings I would experience.

A young guy was bringing in some carts, and he watched as I viewed the banner and turned to grab a cart since I would now be adding three cartons of OJ to the couple of small items I planned to purchase. He said, "It's chicken today," and I simultaneously wondered what he was talking about and realized as I looked—again—at the sign that D&W was offering a super sale on one particular item per day, and the OJ sale was for Sunday.

I looked at the cart guy and said, despairingly, "I don't shop on Sunday." And I don't. This is one of the ways our family observes the Sabbath. We don't, among other things, make purchases at stores on Sunday. He nearly said, "Oh . . . you're [one of those, he started to say] (here in Grand Rapids, home of the Dutch Reformed, there are still a few of us old-fashioned Sabbath observers) . . . maybe if you ask at the front desk they'll give you a rain check.

I picked up the items I needed and headed for the deli to pick up a sandwich. I had already decided that the Sabbath OJ sale would just be one of those minor disappointments that I'd rally from pretty quickly, and I was going to just let it go. But as my friendly cashier was ringing up my items, I had a sudden burst of something, and I explained my situation: "I shop here often, we drink only Tropicana OJ (it's true—we don't like others), and I'd love to take advantage of the sale, but I don't shop on Sunday."

"Let me mention it to my manager," she said. When she returned a minute later, she told me that the manager said I could have the sale price—today. The next thing I knew, I was the happy owner of three cartons of Tropicana OJ with vitamin C and lots of pulp, promising to tell everyone I knew about the gracious management of D&W.

And so I'm keeping my promise. And knowing that I got Sabbath OJ on Friday for 99 cents will make it taste that much sweeter.

Underlining

I'm an underliner. There are people out there (my husband among them) who wouldn't dream of putting a mark in a book. But I learned way back in my college English major days that underlining—with its accompanying notes in the margin in pencil—was much more effective than trying to take notes. It's a record of what made that book good, of what I was thinking of when I was reading it, of what I learned. One of my favorites is an old, beat-up copy of Huckleberry Finn that I bought as a college freshman. I loaned it to friend after I used it, so it has her notes alongside of mine. It's one of my greatest book treasures.

Here are some of the passages I've underlined from books I pulled off the shelf:

From Till We Have Faces by C. S. Lewis:

"The gods have been accused by you. Now's their turn."
"I cannot hope for mercy."
"Infinite hopes—and fears—may both be yours. Be sure that, whatever else you get, you will not get justice."
"Are the gods not just?"
"Oh no, child. What would become of us if they were?"

From Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain, as Huck reflects on the tarring and feathering of the duke and the king:

"Well, it made me sick to see it; and I was sorry for them poor pitiful rascals, it seemed like I couldn't ever feel any hardness against them any more in the world. It was a dreadful thing to see. Human beings can be awful cruel to one another."

From Calvin's Institutes:

"Those for whom prophetic doctrine is tasteless ought to be thought of as lacking taste buds."

From Too Good to Be True by Michael Horton:

"The good news is never that one has died, but that death has been ultimately conquered by the Lord of life. At the graveside, neither optimism nor pessimism; sentimentalism or stoicism, tell us what is happening here. Only Jesus' cross and resurrection define the event for us."

Why did I underline these passages? What made them stand out? I underline passages that are full of meaning—that help me see old truths in a new way. I also underline passages that are integral to the message of the book. I also like to underline beautifully written passages. I underline things that I want to remember. I remember being shocked as I read Lewis and realized that God, in fact, does not serve us justice because we would be destroyed. And Twain, via Huck, reminds us of the depravity of man. Calvin's turn of phrase is both clever and truthful. And Horton expounds a profound and comforting truth for anyone who has ever faced death.

So when I learned that the folks at Amazon are keeping an online list of the most highlighted passages in Kindle books, I had to take a peek. If you make the assumption that book readers are thinking people, people who like to learn and who enjoy interacting with ideas, you can form some impressions about our current culture by seeing which books are most read and which ideas in those books are noteworthy to readers.
Which books are people reading? Some that come up often are Outliers (Malcolm Gladwell); The Last Lecture (Randy Pausch); The Shack (William Young); Cutting for Stone (Abraham Verghese); Eat, Pray, Love (Elizabeth Gilbert).

What are the profound thoughts that people are highlighting in these books, the thoughts that have gripped them as they read? Here's a sampling, and I'll leave you to draw your own conclusions about the quality of the thought life of both today's writers and readers:

"Practice isn't the thing you do once you're good. It's the thing you do that makes you good."—Malcolm Gladwell

"Life, too, is like that. You live it forward, but understand it backward."—Abraham Verghese

 "'Pain has a way of clipping our wings and keeping us from being able to fly.' She waited a moment, allowing her words to settle. 'And if left unresolved for very long, you can almost forget that you were ever created to fly in the first place.'" –William Young

"If you work hard enough and assert yourself, and use your mind and imagination, you can shape the world to your desires." –Malcolm Gladwell

"You were given life; it is your duty (and also your entitlement as a human being) to find something beautiful within life, no matter how slight."—Elizabeth Gilbert



So what do you underline? 

Great Stuff: On Gays, Gay "Marriage," and Why Young People Are Leaving the Church

I found lots of interesting things to read this week, all them fairly brief. Right now, because of all the commotion regarding the overturning of Proposition 8 in California, writers have some interesting things to say about that subject. Carl Trueman, at Reformation 21has an interesting piece on what we, as Christians, need to be thinking about as culture overwhelmingly comes to accept homosexuality and gay "marriage" as legitimate lifestyle choices.

And you may note that I've been putting quotation marks around the word marriage when I write gay "marriage." That's because of an intriguing piece at American Thinker that makes the case that our argument against gay marriage should be that it doesn't exist. I've never heard this line of reasoning before, and it's compelling, especially among those who wouldn't accept biblical arguments against homosexuality and gay marriage.

And finally, we hear that young people are leaving the church in droves, despite the current focus on relevancy and the efforts to be authentic. In this Wall Street Journal column, Brett McCracken, whose book on this subject recently released, offers some interesting insights.

The Idol of Me

Blogger Tim Challies has some interesting insights in his post today entitled "The Idol of Communication." He makes the point that with the astronomic number of blogs, books published, text messages, e-mails, and letters sent, communication dominates our world. He observes:

By all appearances we have made communication into a kind of cultural idol. In most cases it is not Facebook or the cell phone that is the idol. Instead, they serve as enablers, as enhancers, of the greater idol of communication. Christians have proven to be far from immune to this idol, from following along as the culture around us becomes obsessed with communication and dedicates vast amounts of time and resources to it. Christians will do well to remember that in God’s economy communication is but a means to the far greater, far more noble end of enjoying God so we can bring glory to him. Communication can detract from this purpose just as easily as it can serve this purpose.

Challies offers up some interesting points, noting how communication, via media like cell phones and Facebook, consumes users' lives. In fact, he points out, communication itself has become an idol.

I wouldn't disagree with him, but I think I'd take it one step further. Today, we often point to money as an idol, and so it often is. And while some people hoard money and worship it, more often it is a means to obtain the material possessions that people ultimately want and then worship as idols--houses, boats, cars, expensive vacations, clothes, technology. In a similar sense, communication becomes the tool for obtaining the ultimate idol.

We've always had the ability to communicate, but, as Challies points out, "the scope of [communication], the speed of it and the reach of it" have changed. "It is now the dominant paradigm through which we live our lives."

So as I observe teens (and even not teens) devoting their energies to texting, I note that one of the things they're accomplishing is reminding someone who isn't with them that they're there. That absent person's response implies significance, importance: "You're so important to me that even though I'm not physically with you, I'm still communicating with you as much as I want. If I'm important to you, you'll text back." So you do, because if you fail to acknowledge the sender's significance, she might someday fail to acknowledge yours.

And on Facebook, a young wife and mother broadcasts her anger at her church for all the world to see, never mind the appropriate channels for expressing an offense given to us in Matthew 18. A businessman, husband, and father known as a leader in his church posts lewd, locker-room humor--again, for all the world to see. Young women post pictures of themselves scantily clothed in provocative poses, as though they were modeling for lingerie ads or escort services. A young man, rebelling against his parents, proudly announces his latest immoral activity, using language that is coarse, offensive, R-rated at best.

Communication serves only as the vehicle to bring these people who are sacrificing their principles, integrity, and reputation to the actual idol: self, affirmation, attention--the spotlight.

This becomes clear in a sad situation that occurred over the weekend. A young man who was headed for his freshman year in college in a few weeks died suddenly, accidentally, tragically last Friday. He was an athlete, a musician, an excellent student who would make any parent proud. He was full of promise. He was my daughter's close friend. And as soon as word got out that Joel had died, his Facebook was filled with the sentiments of seemingly anyone, whether they had truly been his friend or not. While many of the messages were sincere in their sorrow, one message that made me cringe especially was a young woman's expression of her excitement that Joel was now with Jesus, and, unfortunately, she wasn't the only one leaving such odd thoughts. (Young lady who posted this: if you see this boy's parents or sisters, please do not tell them that you are excited that he is with Jesus. You will leave them with yet another ugly memory on top of all the other ugly memories this incident will leave them with.) And I've digressed. But my point is this: Who were these people leaving sentiments for? Joel is dead--yes, with Jesus. He can no longer access his Facebook account or read the kind sentiments that people are leaving for . . . him? Is it possible that these messages serve another purpose?

So yes, in the sense that money is an idol that leads to other idols, communication has become an idol that leads to other idols. Instead of striving to have things, though, the communication-driven idol has more to do with being--being noticed, being affirmed, being in the spotlight. And it probably brings us closer to what any idol obviously leads us to worship: ourselves.

Annette 300: Gratitude

Katie Selden Photography

We celebrated Calvin 500 last year in honor of the great theologian's five hundredth birthday. Reformation Heritage Books, the publishing house where I work, is already gearing up for Reformation 500 in 2017 to celebrate Martin Luther's nailing the Ninety-Five Theses to the Wittenburg church door.


Annette 300 really doesn't have anything to do with reforming the church, and it won't be celebrated in special book publications or conferences. It is, however, a milestone for me: this is my three hundredth post since I started this little blog in January 2007. And there have been so many life changes since then!


This post I published back in 2007 best captures what I hope will be the theme not only of this blog, but of my life:

As an editor, I work in an environment of thought. If I'm not reading something someone else has written, I'm writing something myself, and lately I've been finding that even my out-of-work time is spent reading about theological debates that I didn't even know were being argued (more on this another time). I always find it interesting when the same concept recurs within a relatively short period of time, because I know that even the ideas that I'm confronted with come not from chance, but from God's fatherly hand.

The theme for this week seems to be gratitude as a response to cynicism. This came up for the first time Monday morning during our departmental Bible study, when the study leader asked how we combat the dangers of cynicism. The point that was being made in the book we are reading together was that it is very easy to become cynical when we work in a culture of Christians (such as Discovery House Publishers and RBC Ministries). I thought that it was an interesting question, but it never seemed to be answered, and I put the question behind me as soon as Bible study ended and I returned to my desk to consider the work ahead of me for the week.

And then my last posting addressed the issue of gratitude, that our beliefs organically express themselves in our actions. We express gratitude for all that Christ has done for us by obedience to God's law, because He tells us that if we love Him, we will keep His commandments.

And it all came together during Wednesday's chapel service. The speaker, Don Denyes, pointed us to 1 Chronicles 29:10ff., where David rejoices that the people have given so generously for the building of the temple. In his prayer is the foundation for gratitude. Interestingly, Denyes pointed out that the first layer of the foundation of gratitude is knowing who God is (what we believe), as David lists many of God's attributes (greatness, power, glory, victory, majesty). When we truly know Him, we will be grateful.

We also need to understand that God is sovereign, that He controls all things (v. 11). When we understand that all belongs to God and that He controls all the circumstances of our lives, we can be thankful for whatever happens in our lives.

Finally, we need to understand who we are and what we deserve. David says, "Who am I, and who are my people, that we should be able to offer so willingly as this?" When we understand that what we actually deserve is not nothing, but rather eternal condemnation, we must be thankful when we realize the great blessings of salvation.

Gratitude is a good theme, and it's definitely an antidote for the cynicism that can so easily take over when we read the news or simply interact with other human beings. Gratitude forces our focus away from ourselves and onto the One who has never been motivated by selfishness. And for that I am thankful.

Vacation 2010

Vacation 2010: Katie, Jonathan, and cousin Elizabeth at Hartwick Pines State Park

Vacations can be tricky things, I've learned. We plan and we wait and wait and wait--with great anticipation--for those few luxurious days when the only agenda is no agenda, when the only things we do are the things we want to do when we're doing what we have to do--reading a book in the sun, swimming in the lake, hiking, canoeing, golfing, biking, shopping. How could this be anything less than bliss?

We waited and waited and waited--with great anticipation--for vacation 2010: a week at a cottage on Higgins Lake. And we certainly were not disappointed. We slept in and some of us didn't get dressed till noon, read books in the sun, swam at the lake, hiked, canoed, played games, laughed a lot, and just plain made lots of wonderful memories. We even added our Elizabeth to the mix, the sweetest and funniest fourteen-year-old niece and cousin you could have, making our week that much more fun.

But it's a myth to think that vacation isn't work, that we're living heaven on earth for a few days. A power outage that lasts for eight hours forces us into town for food and water and finds us amusing ourselves at Super Walmart.  We discover that the woods aren't just filled with the sounds of rustling leaves, melodious birds, and rays of sunlight--they're filled with mosquitoes too. And how long it takes three teenagers traveling in a canoe to reach the landing at four miles an hour becomes more than just an algebra problem--it eventually becomes a funny story after everyone finds their place in the canoe. And you also learn that space is a good thing when teenagers and adults are living in the same place.

But in the end, the imperfections blend together with the squirt gun fights at the lake, the cute puppy up the street, the time when Jonathan nearly got left behind at the pizza place, our family watching a movie together or playing UNO, and Katie and Elizabeth's numerous hours devoted to . . . coloring. And you put it all together, and you have the lovely memory of vacation 2010.

(This post is dedicated to LRHG, who is tired of the kissing picture. Go figure . . .)

Two Years

Photo by LVL Photography

It's hard to believe that we'll be celebrating our second anniversary on Sunday, July 11. And two years later, we love to kiss, much to Katie and Jonathan's chagrin!

I heard this quote from the church father Tertullian at a family conference I attended last spring. I'm happy to say that it fittingly describes my life with Henry. Happy anniversary, my dear husband.

How beautiful, then, the marriage of two Christians, two who are one in hope, one in desire, one in the way of life they follow, one in the religion they practice.

They are as brother and sister, both servants of the same Master. Nothing divides them, either in flesh or in Spirit. They are in very truth, two in one flesh; and where there is but one flesh there is also but one spirit.

They pray together, they worship together, they fast together; instructing one another, encouraging one another, strengthening one another.

Side by side they face difficulties and persecution, share their consolations. They have no secrets from one another, they never shun each other's company; they never bring sorrow to each other's hearts . . .  Psalms and hymns they sing to one another.

Hearing and seeing this, Christ rejoices. To such as these He gives His peace. Where there are two together, there also He is present, and where He is, there evil is not.

Toy Story 3

I'm sure many families, like ours, have watched their children grow up with Andy, the child character in the Toy Story movies. When the first Toy Story movie came to theaters in 1995, Katie was 4 and Jonathan was 2. Katie remembers seeing it in the theater (she said she thinks it's the first movie she can remember seeing in a theater), and, of course, Jonathan does not. We did come to own the video, though, so we watched it many times together as a family. By the time Toy Story 2 came out in 1999, Katie and Jonathan were a little older and we were great fans of Woody, Buzz, and the family that looked a little like ours at the time: a single mom and Andy and his little sister. 

So it was a poignant experience today, watching the grown-up Andy now heading off for college. I won't give away the plot for anyone out there who still plans to see it, but the movie has a lot to say about the importance of belonging, of loving and being loved, and of what we're willing to endure at times to be there for someone we love. But it's also about growing up--the things that we let go as we grow and the memories that are there to stay. So there I sat next to my nearly 19-year-old Katie and my 16-year-old Jonathan, and I sniffled a little bit at the end as we collectively said goodbye to Andy, Buzz, Woody, Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head, and all of Andy's special toy friends who have become our toy friends. And I thought about the lonely American Girl dolls packed away in the basement and the Brio trains and track that make an appearance only when little boys come to visit, and I hoped that someday there would be children who would welcome the chance to play with them.

And then we went to our longtime favorite pizza place and reminisced about the times we spent there in the past and the toys we once loved. And for old time's sake, Katie and Jonathan even bickered a little over cleaning the bathroom, and we threatened to make them walk home. But it was a wonderful way to spend a hot summer holiday afternoon, celebrating childhood, family, and happy memories.  So do go see Toy Story 3. You'll be glad you did.

Great Stuff: True Woman | Shedding some Light on Twilight

Since my own daughter hasn't had much interest in the Twilight series/movies, I really haven't followed this popular cultural trend very closely, other than to know that in some Christian circles, there is some debate about whether these books and movies are appropriate for young women. Writer Mary Kassian has some interesting things to say not just about the movies, but about how young women ought to be conducting themselves in relationships with men in general. It's a great post!

True Woman Shedding some Light on Twilight

Another Birthday

With June coming to a close, another birthday has come and gone. For some reason, birthdays these days just aren't as exciting as they were earlier in my life. I used to look forward to being the center of attention, the object of celebration for a day. I was always excited about getting presents, and that still is one of the nice things about birthdays, even though my fascination with things isn't what it once was.

But one thing I loved about my birthday back then, about growing older, was that being older meant doing more things, having more privileges. It meant getting to go to school, being old enough to babysit, joining the high school youth group, getting a driver's license, graduating from high school, going to college. I don't think I'm unique in this.You felt that way about getting older at one time too. I guess my question these days is when do we start associating more birthdays with things we can't do? Why do we lose that sense that being older means doing more things, having more to contribute? Why do we start to think that being older means doing fewer things, contributing less, having fewer responsibilities? Do we start going backwards at some point?

The older I get, the more I understand what the psalmist meant when he said that our days are like grass, like flowers that flourish briefly, until the wind blows them down. Life happens fast, and it doesn't last very long. I used to look at my parents or other people when they were the age that I am now and think how old they were. At that age now, I feel like I'm just getting started, and I certainly don't feel old. There's definitely been a physical decline--it's much harder to lose weight now than it was in the past, and there's more that needs to be lost. I just got my first pair of progressive lens glasses because I'm finding it difficult to see things far away and close up. But mentally and emotionally, I feel like I'm better than I've ever been. I have knowledge, work experience, parenting experience--just plain life experience--that makes me a better, more productive, more useful, more confident person than I was back in my twenties. I have more to contribute to family, church, and work.

And that makes it all the more difficult for me to understand why people quit at sixty-five, when they still have so much to offer and so little time to waste. Social security allows them to retire from their jobs, but so many seem to quit everything at that point. And there are still so many needs, so much to do.  My parents "retired," but they moved from Ohio up to Michigan to help me raise Katie and Jonathan when I was a young widow. Henry's eighty-something mom, who still drives and serves as meal coordinator at her church, often goes to nursing homes to visit the old people.

Friends of ours recently told us they've bought a condo in Florida, and they'll be going there this winter, like so many of the other mature couples in our church. They've raised their children, their grandchildren are now grown, and, she told us, they don't feel like they have anything to do. And while we're having this conversation, our VBS coordinators are running around, begging people to sign up to help. The average age of our elders is getting lower and lower because the men with maturity who have finished raising their families and actually now have the time to take up such a demanding office are in Florida six months of the year, not long enough to serve here, and not long enough to serve there. These are the people who, because they aren't working regular jobs, should have time to teach Sunday school, lead Bible studies, visit sick people, and take up any number of services in the church.

On the positive side, though, it's wonderful to see the retired school teacher, now in her eighties, teaching VBS faithfully. I've also been told that, as an "experienced" widow, she shepherds the new widows through dark days, encouraging and sharing with them in their sorrow. She may not be putting in forty-plus hours a week anymore, but she's using her time well.

And that's what God calls us to do, as author David Roper (a mature person who has not retired his wisdom and abilities) reminds us: "As long as we have the light of day, we must work--not to conquer, acquire, accumulate, and retire, but to make visible the invisible Christ, and to touch men and women, boys and girls with His love. If we have done all these things, we will have done all we can do, and we can rest easy" (Teach Us to Number Our Days, Discovery House Publishers).

Stuff I Read This Week: Not using snopes.com or google

I haven't been putting up any "great stuff I read this week" posts for awhile because I've been occupied with editing some great stuff (see Monday's post). But  this post from Stuff Christians Like.net is amusing and thought provoking. It addresses one of Henry's pet peeves, and something we've all done--forward e-mails without verifying that the information is accurate. So this one is for Henry.


Not using snopes.com or google.

Meeting Jesus at the Feasts

"The New is in the Old concealed, the Old is in the New revealed." This little rhyme may be familiar to you (at least the concept should be) if you grew up in a Reformed church and attended catechism. It's reminding us that all of Scripture is one; there is not a huge division between the Old and New Testaments, with the New Testament suddenly being a radical departure from what has preceded it in the Old Testament. Rather, we understand that everything in the Old Testament points to Jesus (hence, it is concealed), and with the coming of Jesus and the fulfillment of prophecies, the meaning of the Old Testament is revealed in the New.

This is the premise for a wonderful new book that will be coming later this summer/early fall from Reformed Fellowship: Meeting Jesus at the Feasts by Dr. John Sittema. I've been spending my evenings since January editing this book for Reformed Fellowship, and it's been one of those great experiences where I learn something new every time I sit down to edit.

Dr. Sittema examines each of the seven Old Testament feasts--Passover, Feast of Unleavened Bread, Feast of Firstfruits, Pentecost, Feast of Trumpets, Day of Atonement, Feast of Tabernacles--as well as the Sabbath and the Year of Jubilee. He shows how each element of the celebration pointed the Old Testament people to Christ, revealing the gospel, and then shows how Jesus, in the New Testament, fulfills each of these celebrations, which served as types of him and the gospel. One fascinating concept I learned is that through the centuries, the Jews continued to celebrate the feasts that God had established, but they added in their own traditions and ceremonies.When Jesus comes, he condescends and observes and fulfills the feasts as they've come to be celebrated rather than as his Father originally instituted them.

That's just one of the intriguing concepts that struck me as I worked on this book. Here's an example of one of my favorites from the chapter on Passover. Sittema explains that one of the customs that developed through the centuries was the tradition of a lamb for the people. This was an actual lamb without blemish that was tied to a stake so that the people could come by and examine it, ensuring that this was, in fact, an animal without blemish. And how does this reflect Jesus' being our perfect Lamb?

That [Jesus] died, and that his death was physically, psychologically, and spiritually horrific tells only part of the story. When he died completes the tale.

          The timing of the day was rich with meaning. As noted earlier, the lamb for the people had been staked out at 9:00 a.m. At the same time that the high priest was tying off the frisky four-footed beast, Jesus was nailed to the cross on the other side of the wall before the eyes of the watching world. Later in the afternoon, at the traditional time for the slaughter of the “lamb for the people,” the high priest cut its throat, concluding the peace offering with the standard liturgical proclamation, “It is finished.” But, at the very same time, on the other side of the wall, Jesus, the priest presiding over his own sacrifice, also cried out, “It is finished!” and breathed his last (Mark 15:37; Matthew 27:45–50). Jesus did not merely keep the Feast of Passover. He took it over.

Sittema's content is compelling, and his skillful writing style, passion for his topic, and knowledge of the feasts enhance the reading experience. Meeting Jesus at the Feasts will give you a better understanding of the gospel and the relationship between the Old and New Testaments. If you're looking for something that will be thought provoking and edifying for a Bible study (each chapter ends with discussion questions), you'll enjoy this book. You can read the introduction to the book here. And I'll let you know when it's available!

The Next Chapter

I've just completed the first week of the next chapter of my life--at least the next chapter in the part devoted to work and career. Tuesday was my first day as an editor at Reformation Heritage Books, here in Grand Rapids.

I honestly wasn't looking to move on to a new chapter. I was perfectly happy with the Discovery House Publishers chapter. I love the people I worked with, I was working with some amazing authors that I had come to consider friends, and I enjoyed my work. I had just celebrated my fifth anniversary there, and I was looking forward to more. There was probably no one more surprised than I was that I would be moving on.

But even though we don't know anything about it, God has decided long ago the number of pages in each chapter in our lives, and as we turn a page, we're often caught off guard to find that we're at the end of one chapter and heading for the next.

I got my first hint that I was headed for something new back in March when I attended the Philadelphia Conference on Reformed Theology here in Grand Rapids. Henry's organization, Reformed Fellowship, had an exhibit at the conference, and he was representing the organization there. I wandered around, looking at the other publishers' tables, and found myself having a conversation with Dr. Joel Beeke, the founder and president of Puritan Reformed Theological Seminary and Reformation Heritage Books. By the time I left his exhibit, he had my business card and had asked me to do an editing sample for him the following week. I walked back to my husband, laughed, and said, "I think he's offering me a job." But then I said quickly, "He's a busy man. He'll forget all about this by Monday."

But he didn't forget. On Monday morning, there was an unedited manuscript, with a request from him to edit the first three brief chapters. After that, I had about a month to think about leaving DHP and moving on to RHB. And every time I thought of a reason to stay put in my nice, comfortable DHP chapter, situations and people (usually Dr. Beeke) kept giving me better reasons to move on to the next one.

And so I did. And I feel a little bit like Huck Finn,who at the end of his trip down the Mississippi, decides to  strike out for the frontier. It was sad to leave behind so many dear coworkers and authors at DHP, and yet I have a calm sense of God's calling. And when God has turned the page, you just know that what's next might be crazy, unsettling, confusing, and wild--like the frontier--but it will be good.



 

Then and Now

When the Watergate scandal captured America's attention in the early nineteen seventies, I was in fifth grade. I remember hearing "Watergate" everywhere and knowing that it was something bad, but not understanding anything about it. Someone asked our teacher, Miss Bender, what Watergate was, and she told us it had something to do with phones. That explanation didn't really clarify things for me then, although now I realize that she was talking about the phones in the DNC office being bugged. Last week Henry and I watched All the President's Men, the Robert Redford/Dustin Hoffman 1976 movie that told the story of Woodward and Bernstein, the two young Washington Post journalists who blew the Watergate story wide open, and I have a little better grasp of the events.

It was fascinating to see how much technology has changed things since the nineteen seventies: the way we gather information, the way we communicate, the whole purpose of news reporting. Early in the investigation, after several men had been arrested for burglary in the DNC office, Woodward and Bernstein were collecting names, trying to figure out who people were, what they did, how they might be connected to each other. While I watched them make phone calls, frantically trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together, I thought how much easier their task would have been if they had Google search. If they could have done searches on the names they had, they would have found out quickly the relationships these people had to Nixon administration personnel like John Dean and Chuck Colson.

In another scene, Dustin Hoffman had flown to Florida to speak with an attorney. Even though he had called ahead and made arrangements to meet with the attorney, he was left sitting in the waiting room all day while the receptionist made excuses about why the attorney couldn't see him. Finally, at the end of the day, the receptionist told him he'd have to come back tomorrow. Frustrated, Hoffman left the office. Seconds later, the phone rang, and the audience could hear what was clearly Hoffman's voice instructing the receptionist to come to another office to pick something up. When she left, Hoffman snuck in to meet with the attorney. And how much easier would all of that have been if Hoffman had had a cell phone and hadn't had to track down a phone booth?

The newsroom scenes themselves were fascinating. There were no computers on desks--only typewriters. And while there were a few women reporters in the newsroom, a meeting showing the newspaper's editors hashing out which stories would be told on what page included no women at all. I'm wondering if there are any major newspaper editorial staffs today that have no women among their editors.

It struck me how journalism itself has changed in my lifetime. Woodward and Bernstein were committed to exposing the truth--for the benefit of the nation. As they worked together, they frequently reminded each other to make sure that the conclusions they were drawing were based on the facts. They were constantly verifying their sources, making sure that what they reported was fair. But they were committed to telling the story, even when their lives were threatened and no one else even believed they had a story worth telling.

Today, journalists (with a few exceptions) aren't interested in exposing the truth; rather, they want to create the truth. There's an agenda, and only those facts that support the agenda are told. Sometimes the facts are twisted a little if they don't further the agenda. If a story doesn't promote the truth that journalists are creating, they don't tell it. An interesting example: The media ridicules the "birthers," those who are taking the issue of the president's citizenship to court, demanding to see a valid birth certificate. How ridiculous! Of course the president is a legal citizen, they say. And yet, where's the valid birth certificate? If only there were a Woodward and Bernstein team out there on this story now.

In her column last week, Peggy Noonan wrote about how, as a culture, we are losing our privacy, largely because of all the new technologies that make information about anyone available to anyone.  She points out that unlike the past, today there is no place to hide:

If you, complicated little pirate that you are, find yourself caught in the middle of a big messy scandal in America right now, you can't go to another continent to hide out or ride out the storm. Earlier generations did exactly that, but you can't, because you've been on the front page of every website, the lead on every newscast. You'll be spotted in South Africa and Googled in Gdansk. Two hundred years ago, or even 100, when you got yourself in a big fat bit of trouble in Paris, you could run to the docks and take the first ship to America, arrive unknown, and start over. You changed your name, or didn't even bother. It would be years before anyone caught up with you.


She's right. And in theory, it should be much harder to commit a Watergate crime--or to engage in scandalous behavior for that matter-- today than it was back in 1972. And yet how long did it take journalists--and even then it was the National Inquirer-- to reveal that John Edwards was having an affair that resulted in the birth of his illegitimate child? It may be impossible to hide in the twenty-first century, but I get the feeling that today's journalists just aren't looking.

I Hate to Do This

To the friends who read and sometimes comment on my blog: You will notice that while I'm still accepting comments (and do leave them, please), they will no longer be published until I approve them. Unfortunately I've had some unwelcome commenters who for reasons unknown to me have selected my blog as a place to leave links to porn sites in some Asian language (Japanese, perhaps?) At any rate, I'm hoping that adding that extra step for commenters will put a stop to this grossness, and maybe soon I can remove the restriction. I do welcome comments from most of you, though, so please continue to leave them.

My Sister's Keeper

For the second time, I'm reading Jodi Picoult's My Sister's Keeper. The first time I read it for pleasure--one of those bestsellers I picked up to read on vacation. This time, I'm reading it for my book group. It isn't classic fiction, by any means. Some of the story elements seem unnecessary and a little silly (the relationship between Campbell and Julia; the fact that Julia has a lesbian sister who plays no real role in the story but meets the obligatory " at least one homosexual character per novel" requirement for fiction writers today), and the teenage characters in the story, Anna especially, seem to think far too deeply to be believable. The novel definitely has the qualities that make it fit among today's popular bestsellers--which can be a good or bad thing, depending on your perspective. But it's a compelling story, addressing some important ethical issues. And it's interesting to me personally because the story revolves around a character with leukemia, which is the disease that my first husband died from.

At the beginning of the novel, Anna, age 13, has filed a lawsuit against her parents, seeking medical emancipation. Although she has never really been sick herself she has spent a lot of time in hospitals undergoing tests and enduring surgeries, shots, and transfusions. Anna, a product of preimplantation genetic diagnosis, was conceived to be a donor for her sister Kate, who has suffered from leukemia since she was a toddler. As the story begins, Kate is facing renal failure and death, and Anna, tired of being used for "spare parts," decides she doesn't want to give Kate the kidney that will save her life. The novel traces the events surrounding the crisis through the eyes of several characters: Sara and Brian, the parents; Jesse, the oldest of the three children; Kate; and Anna.

All kinds of questions arise: Is it ethical to "bioengineer" a child to be a donor for another? Should a person of any age be forced to provide blood, marrow, organs to keep someone else alive? Is it justifiable for a mother to neglect her other children for the sake of one who is seriously--perhaps terminally--ill? How hard should we fight to stave off the inevitable--death?

It was an interesting juxtaposition the morning that I began reading this novel. I was reading while eating breakfast, and I decided to read Spurgeon's selection in Morning and Evening for that day before I began reading the novel. He was discussing the sin of idolatry, pointing out that today's golden calf is often children, and having favorites can be a source of great sin. The Lord is grieved when parents dote on their children "beyond measure." And here is a story of what happens when a parent makes an idol of a child--probably not what Picoult had in mind, and yet this is clearly the case in this novel.

This is a story of idolatry and its results: Sara, the mother and wife, has sacrificed her marriage and her other two children's well-being to the idol of Kate and keeping Kate alive at any cost. And in that quest, Sara, like many today, has no notion of children as a gift from God, something to be received with gratitude. Anna is a product of geneticists who have combined sperm and egg so that she hasn't been born a child with a unique personality and set of gifts; rather, she is a simply a donor, and her value lies in her ability to keep Kate alive with the spare parts she can provide. Anna worships the idol of identity and personal value, so much so that she is willing to let her sister die rather than provide a healthy kidney that will  keep her alive.

I can't help but think of an incident from my own life when my own family was fighting this terrible enemy of leukemia. Jon had been in an all-out battle for over a year. He had endured one of the harshest chemotherapy treatments available for about six months, only to relapse. He underwent a bone marrow transplant; his donor was his sister. It was one of the most horrible days I can remember when we sat in the doctor's office in Ann Arbor, learning that the transplant had failed, and the leukemia was back. What were our options at this point? The doctor looked at Jon and said that he could try further chemo treatments, but it was doubtful they would work. And then he said, "I know you're a Christian, and I just want to remind you that for us Christians, there are worse things than dying." And we understood what he was saying, and we had to agree.

This is a novel where the worst thing is dying. There is no hope in this situation, and the characters can see only bad and worse in their efforts to stave off the worst. And that's why there can be no happy ending (it's certainly a surprise ending--but by no means happy) for My Sister's Keeper, which depicts a world without God and ethical choices that fall into only three categories: bad, worse, and worst.