Seven score and seven years ago (November 19, 1863)

Does the name Edward Everett ring a bell? In the mid-1800s, he was a Massachusetts Congressman and Senator, also governor of that state, served briefly as Secretary of State under President Millard Fillmore, and was a gifted and noted orator of his day. He was well-known—so well-known that in November of 1863, he was invited to be the keynote speaker at the dedication ceremony for the Gettysburg National Cemetery. Just four months before, a brutal three-day battle had taken place on the otherwise peaceful fields of this sleepy southern Pennsylvania town, a battle that would go a long way in determining the future of the war, and the future of our country.

Well, most of you know the story. As sort of an afterthought, President Abraham Lincoln was invited to also share a few words at this event. Everett spoke eloquently for about two hours. After this, Lincoln stood up and spoke for about two minutes. And in that brief period of time, he gave perhaps the most stirring speech in our nation’s history, the Gettysburg Address. Everett himself is said to have lamented that he had not expressed in two hours what Lincoln had conveyed in two minutes.

Lincoln delivered the Gettysburg Address on November 19, 1863—one hundred and forty-seven years ago today. Most of us readily recognize the first and last lines of the address. It begins with the iconic line “Four score and seven years ago” (although, in my history class lecture yesterday, several of my students were not aware of what a ‘score’ is in this context), and ends with the equally memorable “that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.” However, I am afraid that most people are not familiar with the large “middle section” of the address, and are equally unfamiliar with its overall purpose and meaning.

In short, the Gettysburg Address is a masterpiece. It is one of those works of art that gives me goose bumps regardless of how many times I have read it. I could probably write for hours commenting on its contents, and Lincoln’s brilliance, but instead I will try to keep my comments short and let the address, printed below, speak for itself.

Of all the salient points in the address, two jump out at me more than any of the others. The first is that Lincoln cited the proper foundation for his remarks: “Four score and seven years ago.” A score is twenty years. That means that Lincoln was referring to 1776, specifically the Declaration of Independence. Our county had been ripped apart by several sectional issues, the most prominent of which was slavery. It was THE hot-button issue of the day. You think health care, abortion, and border control are controversial today . . . well, slavery was worse. Compromises worked for a little while, but over the years, states and citizens became increasingly polarized and hostile. By the 1850s, Kansas had exploded into violence in what would be a precursor to the Civil War (known as “Bleeding Kansas”). In Washington, a southern senator beat a northern senator with his cane (many southerners responded by mailing this senator more canes!). In 1859, John Brown invaded Harper’s Ferry, hoping to incite a spontaneous slave revolt throughout the South. Then, of course, in 1861, the Civil War started. And it was, in a word, a bloodbath.

But in all this time, no president had forcefully enunciated that slavery was incompatible with the ideals upon which this country was founded. But in this speech, Lincoln begins by reminding us all that our country is based on the idea that “all men are created equal.” His ensuing appeal for a “new birth of freedom” in our land could only be achieved if it was placed solidly on this foundational idea. Compromises and half-measures would no longer work. Things after the Civil War could not, and would not, be the same as they were before the conflict.

The second point is that Lincoln makes it very clear that this address is not for the dead, but the living. In stirring fashion, he exhorted his audience—those who were still alive—to be dedicated to the task that the fallen soldiers had started. That task, in short, was for them to live lives that embodied the ideals upon which our country was founded, and to help ensure that all people could realize their inalienable rights. If everyone would do their part, our form of government would not “perish from the earth.”

Well, enough of my verbosity. But let me just ask this in closing: Is this “task” of which Lincoln spoke finished in 2010? You see, I believe that the Gettysburg Address applies to us as American citizens today just as much as it applied to Lincoln’s original audience. In my view, there are laws, Supreme Court rulings, and various practices that take place today that are not in keeping with the ideals upon which our country was founded. It is therefore up to me (and, I would suggest, all of us) to be dedicated to the (still) unfinished task that those soldiers at Gettysburg had “thus far so nobly advanced.” Lincoln was talking to a large crowd in 1863, but he was also talking to us.

I hope you enjoy reading and reflecting on the words of Abraham Lincoln:

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great Civil War, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated can long endure.

We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract.

The world will little note nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced.

It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us, that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion,

that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

June 4th: From Bible trivia to bathrooms

June 4th was the final day of our five-day swing through northern Israel. We weaved our way from the Galilee region through the Jezreel Valley, and by the end of the day we were back in Jerusalem. The day was exciting as they all were, but the sad feeling was starting to sink in that this was it. Once we got back to Jerusalem, it was time to take our final exam, do some last-minute shopping and sight-seeing, then pack up to go home. The picture you see here is of Beth-Shean National Park, our last stop of the day. Beth-Shean probably had the most intricate Roman remains of any place that we visited, but more on that later.


I think I have mentioned this before, or at least alluded to it, but this trip had a lot of “Bible trivia” associated with it. Like the famous Rorschach ink blot tests, you might look at this photo and see a simple clump of trees in the foreground. But it is actually the biblical site of Endor, where Israel's first king, King Saul, visited a witch who called the prophet Samuel back from the dead (1 Samuel 28—things weren’t going so well for Saul at the time). Okay, if you insist that it is merely a clump of trees, you are right. But it is so much more!


Likewise, this is a drive-by photo of the town of Nain (you can tell that I took it from the bus). This town is prominent in Luke 7, where Jesus raised a person from the dead there--the only son of a widow. It consistently amazed me that so many places where biblical miracles took place are today just normal old towns with houses, apartments, shopping centers and automobiles.


These are the ruins of the fortress of Megiddo. This is where King Josiah was killed when he went out to fight against the Egyptian pharaoh and his army (2 Kings 23:29). Josiah was a God-fearing king, and he was sort of the “last best hope” for the kingdom of Judah. After his death, Judah took its last downward spiral into disobedience and was conquered and exiled by King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon. I have a memory aid for this historical episode based on Elvis Presley’s “In the Ghetto” (my version is “In Megiddo”), but I won’t go into that now.


This is a photo of the Jezreel Valley, which is a large area mentioned many times in the Bible, particularly during the time of rulers such as Ahab and Jezebel. The thing I remember most about the Jezreel Valley is that it is about the only place in Israel that was very flat. Unfortunately we did not do much walking there.


As I said, we ended the day at Beth-Shean National Park. This picture is an overview of the remains of the Roman city. Notice the very steep mountain in the background. This would be the last major climb of the trip!


And a tough climb it was. Click on this photo to get a closer view of this steep mountain. Notice the size of the steps compared to the mountain. I would add that what you can't see in this picture is that it took many steps, maybe about 100, just to get to the area of the palm trees in the foreground. This was indeed one of the steepest climbs we did! And when I got to the top, I was rewarded by getting to see . . . you guessed it, more Roman remains! (And a wonderful view of Beth-Shean)


This is a Roman stadium at Beth-Shean, with my seminary Hebrew professor signaling victory at the top.


My final photos from Beth-Shean are ones that I just couldn’t resist sharing with you. During this trip we spent a lot of time talking about the events, culture, and lifestyles of ancient peoples. This included famous folks like King Herod as well as the everyday people. One thing we never talked about—up until now, that is—is, how did all of these people go to the bathroom? Well, at Beth-Shean, we got a glimpse into this piercing question, at least from the Roman perspective. If you click on this picture, you will see a close-up of a sign that explains the remains of a Roman-era public lavatory.


So here it is, an ancient public bathroom. Now, without getting into too much detail, you can see the “toilet seats” against the wall. Notice that they were not separated. Everyone got to sit right next to their fellow-citizen out in the open air, one seat per customer (actually, they would sit straddled on two consecutive seats, and that’s all I’m going to say about that). When finished, they would lean forward and make use of fresh water running through a narrow trough to clean up (you can see the trough in the picture), using some sort of sponge or leaf contraption.

Admit it, don’t you feel blessed now that you know this little tidbit about ancient history?

The return of Stupid Song Lyrics

Well, it has been a few months since I have forayed into the realm of the bizarre and sometimes illogical world of pop song lyrics. So today I continue the second-Wednesday-of-the-month tradition with three song lyrics that have oft left me vexed and perplexed.

1. “Mama always told me not to look into the eyes of the sun” -- You remember this line from the 70s hit “Blinded by the Light,” don’t you? (sung by Manfred Mann’s Earth Band, written by Bruce Springsteen).

Since when does the sun have eyes? Hurricanes have eyes. Needles have eyes. The sun has earth-sized flames of molten heat measuring to about a million degrees Fahrenheit. This song is the only place that I have ever heard of the sun having eyes, and since neither the performers nor the songwriter are scientists, I am left skeptical. The other thing about this lyric that makes me chuckle is the folksy appeal to motherly advice . . . “Mama always said to brush your teeth before you go to bed, pack an extra pair of underwear, never kiss on the first date, life is like a box of chocolates, and, oh yeah, NEVER, EVER look into the ‘eyes’ of the sun.”


2. Speaking of chuckling, how about Steve Miller’s “Abracadabra” from the early 80s? “Abra-abra-cadabra, I wanna reach out and grab ya.”

“I wanna reach out and grab ya”??? In the infamous words of John McEnroe, “You can’t be serious!” I can picture Steve Miller being stymied for weeks, asking everyone he knew, “Hey, what rhymes with Abracadabra?” Finally, it dawns on him . . . “-dabra . . . grab ya . . . yeah, it just might work!”


3. “Girls become lovers who turn into mothers, so mothers be good to your daughters, too.” -- John Mayer, “Daughters” (2005)

Yeah, yeah, I know. This is a heartfelt song about a young man who realizes that his girlfriend’s emotional distance is not his fault, but rather a result of the lack of love and even maltreatment from her parents, particularly her father. Fathers and mothers must be good to their daughters. I get it. But, whenever I hear this particular line, I envision the following scene. A mother and her six-year old daughter are at the kitchen table, as mom helps li’l schnookems with her homework:

“Mommy, I love you so much. You are just sooooo good to me.”

“Oh, thank you. I love you sooooo much too, darling. But do you know why I am sooooo good to you?”

“Well, I think it’s on account a that you have an instinctual maternal bond with me that desires to provide for me and protect me and because I have intrinsic worth and human value as a child created in the image of God and on account a that you take seriously your God-ordained role to bring me up in the training and admonition of the Lord.”

“No, sweety, don’t be silly. It’s because some day you are going to be somebody’s lover. And soon after that, you will turn into a mother. That’s why all mothers should be good to their daughters.”

[Pause.]

“Mommy?”

“Yes, sweety?”

“Can I go outside and play now?”

My two sons (part 2)

Matthew’s surgery was a bit of a curveball thrown into our lives last week, and as we brought him home from the hospital last Thursday, we were not sure if we would be able to proceed with our plans to visit my older son at college over the weekend. As it turns out, Matthew felt fine by Friday morning, so we took off that afternoon for Lynchburg, Virginia, to visit Chad at Liberty University for Parent’s Weekend.

First of all, it was a terrific getaway weekend, even though we still had not quite recovered from being awake for forty straight hours during the appendectomy episode, or from falling further behind on all of our work. Nevertheless, it was a perfect fall weekend, which in the mountains of western Virginia means beautiful scenery of the leaves changing all sorts of wonderful colors.

We did the standard stuff on Parent’s Weekend. We walked around the campus, looked at a few of my son’s classrooms, visited his church, and of course, ate a lot of food. We also took a drive up some narrow, steep trails on a mountain right near campus, which I thought was fun, though it freaked out a few others in the car. All in all, it was terrific to see Chad, chat about how he is doing, meet a few of his friends, and talk about his plans for the spring and summer. On this last subject, he is planning to go on a mission trip after the spring semester to North Africa and France.

And, by the way, he has been having the time of his life at college since day one, meeting lots of new friends, leading a prayer group in his dorm, and basically soaking in all of his new-found freedom and independence. In a lot of ways, his experience reminds me a lot of my first semester at college. Even his appearance reminds me of me back then. The only big difference is—and don’t tell him this—is that his grades are a lot better than mine were.

On our drive home from Lynchburg on Sunday I got to thinking. You know, two years ago Chad went on a mission trip to Ecuador. He had a great time (which included eating roasted guinea pig), and when he came home he told us that he felt God might be calling him to be a missionary when he “grew up.” This was exciting news, but at the same time, Barbara and I cautioned him to continue to pray about it and see where the Lord leads. After all, this could have been more of an emotional reaction to the Ecuador trip.

But, in the past two years, he has continued to earnestly grow in his faith. He led a Bible study for the youth group at his church, volunteered to be a prayer group leader when he arrived at college, volunteered to speak to his old youth group a few weeks ago (they were on a retreat up near Lynchburg), and has his eye set on doing another significant mission trip next spring. Looking to the future, his plans right now are to attend seminary after college in order to prepare for the mission field.

As I began to ponder the broad trajectory of his life, it dawned on me that God is really “up to something” in this young man’s life. It has been one of the extreme joys of my life to see Chad grow and develop into an excellent young man, particularly in the way that he lives out his Christian beliefs. And, it will be incredibly exciting to see how God continues to mold him and work in his life in the future.

I suspect by now that you realize what “part 1” and “part 2” of this blog entry have in common. As my family and friends are aware, my life has been busier in the last few years than it has ever been before. The reason is that I have embarked on an “extended career transition” after my twenty years in the Navy, and this has necessitated a very demanding schedule. It is very exhilarating, though, and I wouldn’t change it for the world. However, sometimes I get so caught up in my day-to-day busyness that I don’t take time to appreciate what God is doing in the lives of my sons, nor take the time to thank Him for just how good He is to me. I honestly believe that God is “up to something” significant in the lives of both of my sons. I am as proud as a parent could be of both of them. At the same time, I realize that I don’t deserve such goodness from God, but give Him thanks for what He is doing in the lives of Chad and Matthew, and that I have the privilege of being a part of it.

My two sons (part 1)

Last Wednesday, as my nine-year old son lay on a hospital bed about to go into surgery to remove his appendix, our church’s children’s minister stood at his bedside. She was chatting with him and comforting him in the moments before he would be carted off to that mysterious and unknown place known as the O.R. Before she left, she asked if there was anything she could do for him. Pausing for only a second, Matthew said, “Can you pray for me?”

Having an appendectomy is an unpleasant and scary thing for a young child. First there is the physical pain in the lower right area of the stomach. Then there are the tests in the hospital, including the dreaded contrast dye that must be drunk prior to a CAT scan—not exactly a chocolate milkshake. The child must also endure various shots with needles—again, not a favorite activity. But on top of all this is the fear of having surgery. It became apparent to Matthew early on that he was going to require an operation, and he could not help but overhear some of the conversations between the doctors and his parents regarding incisions, the process of removing the appendix, being put to sleep during the procedure, etc. He was scared.

Throughout our long evening and even longer day at the hospital (two hospitals, as a matter of fact—he had to be transferred to the local children’s hospital for the surgery), one thing that I noticed is that prayer was at the forefront of Matthew’s thoughts. Before asking the children’s minister to pray for him, he had asked his mother and me the same thing throughout our time at the hospitals. To me, Matthew’s initiative in taking his fears to the Lord in prayer indicates a spiritual awareness and sincerity beyond that of a typical nine-year old.

Let me put it this way. We all face crises in life. It’s sort of where “the rubber meets the road,” in our Christian walk, so to speak. It is during these times when, if you are a Christian, you must ask yourself, “Is all this stuff I believe about God really true? Or do I simply pay lip service to it?” You see, it’s possible—and sometimes even easy—to go to church every week, study the Bible, memorize Scripture, give to the poor, sing in the choir, and do a hundred other “Christian” things, but not really believe in Him at the very core of your soul. Is there really a God who made this whole universe? Was there really a man named Jesus who lived, and died, and rose from the dead about two thousand years ago? Is there really such a thing as a “Holy Spirit” who lives inside of me? When things are going well, it is easy to answer “Yes, of course.” But when crises arise, we are given the opportunity to put into practice our stated beliefs. It’s like the difference between, on the one hand, understanding how a parachute works, and, on the other hand, jumping out of a plane with one strapped to your back. Jumping out of the plane shows that you really believe it.

Matthew made it through this routine surgery fine, and bounced back rather quickly, as most children do. And as I have reflected on this episode over the past few days, I have felt excitement, encouragement, and exhilaration over what I witnessed in my young son. Matthew is a Christian, and does a whole bunch of appropriate “Christian stuff”: Sunday School, Bible Drill, prayer before meals and bedtime, etc. But, in the face of fear, he realized that all this “stuff” points to what is really true. It’s not just a bunch of good works that he is obligated to do.

In addition, I wholeheartedly believe that God is “up to something” very significant in this young boy’s life. Since his birth (details in “My Story” portion of this blog), I have seen God’s hand on him at many times and in many ways. Seeing his childlike faith-in-action during his appendectomy is just one more incident where I see a very special, God-honoring life taking shape. It will be one of the immense joys of my life to see what is in store.