Was it all just a dream?

This past Monday—June 7th—at 9:00 A.M., I was seated in an auditorium at a conference in Virginia Beach. I have been to work-related meetings like this a hundred times before, dutifully dressed in my slacks, button-down shirt, and tie. I was taking notes and listening attentively. But at about nine o’clock, one hour into the conference, my mind began to wander, and I asked myself, “Was it all just a dream?”

You see, just thirty-six hours before, on Saturday night, I stood on the roof of the Gloria Hotel in Old Jerusalem, just inside the city wall, taking the picture of the Tower of David that you see above.

On Saturday night, I was completing a three-week study trip in Israel. I took a course entitled “Historical Geography of the Bible” through the University of the Holy Land in Jerusalem. And, I’m having a hard time finding the right superlatives to describe the trip, which covered just about every square mile of the country of Israel. To say it was informative does not even scratch the surface in relation to what I learned. To say it was exhilarating doesn’t do it justice. To say it was fascinating or unbelievable or incredible . . . these adjectives don’t provide the needed depth of expression.

While in Israel, I walked around the top of the wall in Jerusalem. I crouched and waddled through an Old Testament era, one-thousand yard, underground water tunnel, with water ranging from ankle high to knee deep. I read Psalm 22 aloud inside the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, the probable location of Jesus’ death on the cross (that’s the Psalm that begins, “My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?"). I swam in the Mediterranean Sea. I floated in the Dead Sea. I took a boat ride across the Sea of Galilee, where Jesus walked on the water. I stood on the steps of the Temple, the same exact steps where my Savior walked about two-thousand years ago. And I snooped around in a desert cave where some of the Dead Sea Scrolls were found—a cool respite during days of steep climbs in 110+ degree heat. But all of this is just a sliver of the entirety of my Israel experience between May 17th and June 5th.

So, if I had to give one word now that comes to my mind regarding the trip, I think it would be privilege. It was a real privilege to go on this trip, to receive teaching from a renowned expert in the field of biblical geography, to see the sites that I saw, and to do the things I was able to do. Most people don’t get the chance to do what I did. Going to Israel in no way makes me a better Christian than any other believer, but I do feel that I learned things that will allow me to teach the Bible better for the rest of my life. It truly was a privilege.

But all good things must come to an end, I suppose—at least down here on earth. Sunday morning I boarded a plane in Tel Aviv, and a seeming eternity later, I landed at Raleigh-Durham airport at 10 P.M. Barbara drove me back to Chesapeake. We arrived at two in the morning and I got to sleep at three. Then it was up at six, and back to the standard work routine. I couldn’t afford to take another day off from work after I had so generously been allowed to take three weeks of vacation time for this trip. So you probably can understand that on Monday morning, after the whirlwind, I would find myself thinking, “Wait, did that really happen, or was it all just a dream?”

In the next couple of weeks, I will be writing a number of blog entries with some reflections (and photos) from my Israel trip. I hope you enjoy them.

Pet peeve #83: “It ain’t braggin’ if you can do it”

Here’s one that’s been a pet peeve of mine for a long time. I’m sure you’ve been in a situation where someone is talking to you, or to a group, and is engaged in self-adulation of some sort. And then, perhaps he catches a disapproving eye, or merely wants to maintain the appearance of modesty, and says, “Hey, it ain’t braggin’ if you can do it!” or “It ain’t braggin’ if you can back it up!” or some such.

For a long time, I thought nothing of this little phrase. But at some point, I began to break it down and ponder it. Then, after a while, I began a mental protest against it. And now, when I hear it said, it usually takes every ounce of my being to hold my tongue, for I want to scream out, “Yes it is bragging! In fact, that’s exactly what the definition of ‘bragging’ is! It’s when you do something, have something, etc., and then talk about it in an effort to aggrandize yourself.”

This is in contradistinction to three other possible situations:

1) If you do something, or have something, yet choose not to boast about it, it’s called humility.

2) If you boast about something, and can’t back it up, it’s called lying.

3) But, perhaps a person sincerely needs to point out some great accomplishment, as a matter of fact, with no intention of bragging. That could happen. But in my experience, people in this situation don’t say, “Hey, it ain’t braggin’ if you can do it.” They tend to stutter, in an awkward and humble way, something like, “I don’t mean to say this to brag, I’m just pointing out what happened . . .” And this kind of gets to the crux of the matter. Most of the time, people use the “It ain’t braggin’” line to cover up the fact that they are indeed bragging. It’s like if I finished my fifth piece of cheesecake for dessert and I looked around the table and said, “Hey, it ain’t being a pig if you can eat it all.”

If you consider what I have said here, and agree with my sentiments, perhaps you would consider joining me in a grass roots movement to rid the world of this silly saying. I propose that whenever we hear someone say “It ain’t braggin’ if you can do it,” we stand up and loudly declare, “Yes, it is bragging. You are mistaken”—whether we are in line at the supermarket, at church, or in the stands at the baseball game.

What do you say? Will you join me?

Stupid song lyrics: Rogue theology in pop music

Whereas, it is the second Wednesday of the month, AND,

Whereas, I have listened to a lot of music in my life, AND,

Being that I now write a blog,

BE IT RESOLVED THAT,

On this Twelfth day of May, Two Thousand Ten,

I will now give you another installment of STUPID SONG LYRICS.

1. On the drive home from work a few weeks ago, I heard a countdown of the top five songs from April, 1985. Of course you remember the monster hit “We Are the World,” written by Michael Jackson and Lionel Richie, and performed by a host of well-known American singers (and I use that term loosely with regard to Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen). Here is a verse from the song:

Send them your heart,
So they'll know that someone cares,
And their lives will be stronger and free.
As God has shown us, by turning stone to bread,
So we all must lend a helping hand.

As I heard this, I thought, “Whoa, hold on. When exactly did God turn stone to bread?” I remember that in Moses’ day, God caused a stone to produce water for the Israelites in the desert. And later, in the New Testament, when Jesus was being tempted in the wilderness, Satan challenged Him to turn a stone into bread, but Jesus refused (Matthew 4:3-4). But unless I am sadly mistaken, there is no biblical account of God turning stone to bread. Of course, to be fair, Jackson and Richie don’t claim that God showed us this in the Bible. Perhaps this event happened in the Himalayan Mountains in the 14th century, and has been revealed only to the song’s writers. But I doubt it.

Anyway, this episode got me to thinking of other unbiblical, theologically deviant, or erstwhile unholy verbiage that has made its way into popular music. Such as . . .


2. In 1991, Sting scored a hit with “All This Time,” a catchy tune with the following lines:

Blessed are the poor, for they shall inherit the earth,
Better to be poor than a fat man in the eye of a needle.

Sting, Sting, Sting. First of all, it’s the meek who shall inherit the earth, not the poor (see Matthew 5:5). Regarding the poor (or “poor in spirit”), “theirs will be the Kingdom of Heaven” (Matthew 5:3, Luke 6:20). What I find disappointing about Sting’s Beatitudinal confusion is that several years before this, while with the Police, he performed a song called “Walking in Your Footsteps” (the album was Synchronicity, released in 1983), in which he got it right when he sang, “They say the meek shall inherit the earth.” Just goes to show you, you gotta keep up with studying the Bible and learning good theology or you’ll forget it.

Second, Matthew 19:24 says that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter heaven. Just my opinion, but I think it would be better to say “Better to be poor than a rich man in the eye of a needle,” but perhaps I’m splitting camel’s hairs.


3. Billy Joel’s River of Dreams:

I don’t know about a life after this,
God knows I’ve never been a spiritual man.
Baptized by fire, I wade
into the river that is running through the promised land.

You’ve never been a spiritual man? Not exactly a news flash. We all sort of knew that after “Only the Good Die Young” came out back in 1977. All I’ll say here is, if you’re aware that a river is running through the promised land, why would you be wading and not swimming with all your might to get there?


4. In the 80s, the Philadelphia-based band The Hooters scored a hit with the song “All You Zombies,” which said,

Only Noah saw it coming,
Forty days and forty nights.
Took his sons and daughters with him,
Yeah, they were the Israelites.

Well, to be exact, Noah took three sons (Shem, Ham, and Japheth) and three daughters-in-law on the ark with him (along with his own wife, for a total of eight human passengers), but that is a minor lyrical quibble. More to the point, his sons and daughters-in-law were not Israelites, because the nation of Israel was not founded for at least a few hundred years after the flood. However, it would be accurate to say that Noah and his sons were the direct ancestors of the Israelites, since Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob (Israel) came from the direct line of Noah. I’m sure, like me, you often find yourself hashing through Old Testament history while listening to the radio on the way to work . . . What? You don’t?


5. Finally, most people have heard the Byrd’s hit from 1966, “Turn! Turn! Turn!” It is a near verbatim recitation of Ecclesiastes 3, “to everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.” That is, until the last line of the song, which states,

A time for love, a time for hate,
A time for peace, I swear it’s not too late.

This last line is not in Ecclesiastes. Earlier in the song, they sing about “a time for war,” “a time to gather stones,” and “a time to kill,” which all appear in the biblical passage. The last sentence is in line with the prevailing sentiment in popular culture of the 60s emphasizing peace, protest against the Vietnam War and war in general, etc. I’m not saying this line is bad or wrong in and of itself. It’s just not in the Bible, and that can be confusing given that the rest of the song is. Lyrics like this remind me to be careful—what may sound biblical, true, or theologically correct in popular music sometimes is not.

National Day of Prayer, 1776 style

Does prayer work?

On this National Day of Prayer in the United States, I think this is a very important and legitimate question to ponder. Because, if prayer works, we should not only be praying today, but every day. And not just “praying,” but PRAYING—on our knees, with enthusiasm, and with a sense of sincere humility and bold expectation. But if prayer doesn’t work, well, quite frankly, why bother? We all might as well go do something more productive.

It probably comes as no surprise to you to know that I think that prayer works. But let me explain this a little further. I believe that prayer works in two ways.

First, when we think of prayer “working,” we often think of God answering our requests in some miraculous way, such as a friend being healed from cancer. Requests like this are often, whether we say it this way or not, couched as desiring God to change His mind, or to change the course of current events. And this sort of answer to prayer does happen, both in biblical times and today.

But equally, if not more important, is the fact that prayer ought to change us. Prayer isn’t just our magic genie in a bottle, used to ask God for a new house, a new pool, or even the healing of a loved one. Rather, it is a mechanism by which we learn to submit to God’s authority over us, to humble ourselves, to realize our sinfulness, to beseech His forgiveness, and to set our minds on appropriate desires. As Jesus said as He prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane prior to His crucifixion, “Not my will, but yours.”

On this National Day of Prayer, 2010, I’d like to share an example from our history that I believe reveals both aspects of prayer described above.

In March of 1776, the Second Continental Congress, meeting in Philadelphia, was getting nervous. They faced one of those “what-have-we-gotten-ourselves-into” moments. Many were realizing that there was no turning back in our rebellion against England. Blood had already been shed at Lexington, Concord, and Bunker Hill. And many were saying it was time to declare our independence—a bold step that would no doubt invite significant British retaliation.

So on March 16, the Congress announced a National Day of Prayer. Here is an excerpt from the declaration:

The Congress therefore, considering the warlike preparations of the British Ministry to subvert our invaluable rights and privileges, and to reduce us by fire and sword, by the savages of the wilderness and our own domestics, to the most abject and ignominious bondage: Desirous, at the same time, to have people of all ranks and degrees, duly impressed with a solemn sense of God’s superintending providence, and of their duty devoutly to rely in all their lawful enterprises of his aid and direction–do earnestly recommend, that Friday, the seventeenth day of May next, be observed by the said Colonies as a day of Humiliation, Fasting, and Prayer; that we may with united hearts confess and bewail our manifold sins and transgressions, and by a sincere, repentance and amendment of life, appease his righteous displeasure and through the merits and mediation of Jesus Christ, obtain his pardon and forgiveness; humbly imploring his assistance to frustrate the cruel purposes of our unnatural enemies; and by inclining their hearts to justice and benevolence, prevent the further effusion of kindred blood.

What jumps out at me here is that this isn’t just a call for a “magic genie” prayer, as in, “God, please help us to beat those mean Redcoats.” Yes, that is part of it. But do you notice the emphasis on acknowledging and submitting to God’s authority? Do you see the clear call to use this day to change the minds of the American people, not just God’s mind (i.e. “repentance and amendment of life”)? Do you get the sense that this wasn’t just a call to say a nice little prayer next to a comfortable fireplace while enjoying tea and crumpets? It certainly wasn’t! The people were called to fast, to bewail, to humiliate themselves before God. This is prayer with a capital “P.” This is praying with gusto!

Now, notice that the declaration set May 17th as the National Day of Prayer. This was to give time to disseminate the news about the upcoming day. In fact, George Washington had the decree read to his troops, who were stationed at Brooklyn bracing for a British attack. On May 17th, he and his troops participated in this national day of humiliation, fasting, and prayer. And if anybody was in need of God’s providential intervention (i.e. the first way that prayer works, that I described above), it was Washington and his troops. Would God protect them in the coming days?

Fast-forward three months.

By August, 1776, circumstances were dire. The colonies had declared their independence in July, and England was not about to stand for it. The British, with the help of vicious Hessian mercenaries, had embarked on a massive invasion of New York City. They had landed on the southern tip of Brooklyn, and chased the American army all the way to the northern tip of the island, Brooklyn Heights. Along the way, they had mercilessly mowed down the Americans. Many Hessians shot the Americans in the back and killed them as they retreated.

By the end of August, Washington found himself trapped at Brooklyn Heights. In front of him, the British and Hessians were about to overrun what was left of his army. Behind him was the East River, and as he began to ferry his remaining troops over to Manhattan, the British fleet was sailing in to cut off his only escape route. Many Americans today don’t realize it, but at Brooklyn Heights, Washington was a hair’s breadth from being captured and forced to surrender his entire army. The American Revolution would have been over practically before it started.

But something unbelievable happened. Out of nowhere, an unexpected torrential rainstorm hit New York City, temporarily bogging down the British and Hessian advance. Then, an unusually thick fog set in over the East River. Because of this, the British fleet was unable to sail up the river to close the noose on Washington. By the dark of night, Washington feverishly shuttled his troops across to Manhattan. Finally, Washington himself stepped onto the ferry for the final trip. He and his troops had miraculously escaped, and lived to fight another day.

You know the rest of the story. The British regrouped and chased Washington through Manhattan. By the end of 1776, Washington ended up in Pennsylvania, on the banks of the Delaware River, where he pulled off a stunning surprise victory at Trenton. Then there was Princeton, Brandywine Valley, the bitter winter at Valley Forge, Monmouth, and yes, eventually, Yorktown. The army that was nearly destroyed at Brooklyn Heights survived, and in the end, we won our independence. A nation was born.

I have read several accounts of the Battle of Brooklyn Heights, written by esteemed historians. I find it very interesting that when discussing the rainstorm and the dense fog, they use phrases like “fate intervened” or “there was a serendipitous downpour.” Some even use the word “providential” with a small “p.” In other words, Washington was the beneficiary of good fortune, or luck.

But here’s my explanation of it. On May 17th, 1776, American colonists prayed. American colonists fasted. America bewailed its sins and begged forgiveness through the mediation of Jesus Christ. America humiliated itself before God. And three months later, in late August of 1776, God sent a storm and a dense fog over Brooklyn Heights, at exactly the right time. It was no coincidence. It was not luck. God reached down and saved America.

That’s what I think, anyway. I think that prayer works.

Christianese 101

In most areas of life, people tend to have their own specific language—or perhaps “jargon” is a better word. When I am at work, I speak in a certain way, use certain terms and phrases, etc., that my family and friends might not understand. And I have found that church is no exception. As Christians, we tend to have our own pet terms and ways of expressing ourselves. I have noticed many of these in the area of prayer.

The first silly expression, in my opinion, is when someone “covets our prayers,” as in,

Sunday School teacher: “Does anyone have any prayer requests this morning?”

Nancy: “Oh yes. Hal and I covet your prayers for Hal’s aunt who is in the hospital with pneumonia.”

Like me, you’ve probably heard this kind of thing dozens of times. But, I’ll admit, sometimes it’s hard for me to maintain the seriousness of the moment as I internally contemplate the inevitable conundrum here, namely, that the Bible clearly states that “Thou shalt not covet,” yet people are coveting my prayers. There seems to be some sort of unspoken exception to this commandment when it comes to other people’s prayers. It doesn’t make sense to me, though. Nevertheless, I don’t think there is any way to put a halt to this minor inconsistency in our “Christianese.” Unless, of course, you want to be the one to start a campaign against it. Here’s an idea: Just try following up with a prayer request like, “Please pray for Nancy and Hal as they struggle with the sin of covetousness in their lives,” and see how far you get.

Another term we Christians love to use with respect to prayer requests is “traveling mercies.” “Ted and Janet ask you all to pray for traveling mercies as they head up to Blacksburg to visit their son, then to New Orleans to see Janet’s blind niece.” Now, I really have no problem with the term “traveling mercies” because I think it’s a good idea to ask God to mercifully take care of us when we go on long trips. I just chuckle that the expression is used exclusively in this context. Why don’t we ever ask for “relationship mercies” or “healing mercies” or “material provision mercies”? Just wonderin’. I think that if I requested any of these other mercies, people would think it odd, and some might even think I was trying to be a smart aleck (who, me?).

Lastly, I’ll mention the standard language that a pastor uses during the closing prayer of a sermon. You’ve heard it many times. You know, when he says, “Now I want every head bowed, and every eye closed. Nobody looking around.” Then after the invitation, he has people raise their hands, acknowledging each one, one by one—again, with "every head bowed, every eye closed, and nobody looking around." I understand the importance of prayer, and the seriousness of that particular moment. But at the same time, it’s true that every time we pray, it’s a very serious matter, because we are communicating with God.

I wonder if there are any pastors out there who give a similar prayer when saying grace at the Thanksgiving dinner table with twenty-five of their family members present . . . “Now I want every head bowed, and every eye closed, no looking around. If you are truly thankful for what you have, and are truly thankful for the hands that prepared this turkey, I want you to quickly raise your hand then put it down again—with nobody looking around, nobody smelling the food. Just raise your hand so I can see it . . . Yes, here at the head table, I see a hand. Yes, over by Aunt Sally, I see your hand. Over there at the kids table, yes. Nobody looking around, every head bowed. Yes, over there by the stuffing, I see your hand . . .”—and so on. Just wonderin’.

Television commercials and “Punch Buggy”

My boys are big sports fans. Nary a day goes by when they are not watching football, college basketball, hockey, you name it. My younger son reminds me of myself at his age—he is a fount of trivial sports knowledge and a true sports junkie at the age of eight. In fact, I remember one night about a year ago marveling about his sudden infatuation with professional lacrosse, which was showing on television. Anything is interesting at bedtime, right?

I have no real qualms about my sons liking sports, although I think it is important not to overdo it. There is one thing, though, that bothers me quite a bit. That is, while I don’t mind them watching sports on TV, I have grown increasingly concerned (and disgusted) over the content of commercials. Any more, they seem to be almost constantly laden with sexual and crude innuendos, off-color humor, mature subject matter (i.e. the inundation of Viagra ads), and graphic pictures (i.e. ads for horror movies, which I’ve especially noticed lately). This downward spiral has been going on for quite some time, I realize that. But I have come to a point where I ask, why should my son have to be exposed to this type of material at such a young age when all he is doing is trying to watch an otherwise appropriate sporting event? And for that matter, why should I have to be exposed to it?

So, for the last few years, in our house, we have started something new. When we watch TV—sports or otherwise—we mute the commercials. We just don’t listen to them. And while this in theory does not shield us from disturbing or inappropriate visual images, I have noticed that muting the TV tends to take our focus away from it altogether. All in all, I have found it to be a significant step in the right direction.

Despite my best efforts, however, there are periods when I forget, or the family gets lazy about it, and we don’t mute the television during commercials. Usually, though, after hearing some of the typical fare, I am reminded that we need to start “muting” again.

This reminds me—there is something that has been bothering me that I need to get off of my chest. During one of these lapses, I saw a commercial or two for Volkswagen. The theme of the ads is that various people are playing “punch buggy”—you know, the old game from our childhood where you punch someone in the arm when you see a Volkswagen Beetle and say “(red/blue/green/etc.) punch buggy.” I know there are different variations of punch buggy, but the game is centered around the Beetle, a.k.a the "buggy." The problem is, these ads (at least the ones I saw) are not for the Beetle, but for some other Volkswagen product—an SUV, a sedan, or some such.

After about the second time I saw this, I found myself getting kind of riled up and on the verge of screaming in protest at the television, “Wait just a minute! ‘Punch buggy’ is only for BUGGIES! It’s not for any old Volkswagen automobile! All of America knows that. DOESN’T VOLKSWAGEN KNOW ITS OWN GAME?” How dare they tarnish the honor of one of America’s great travel games in an effort to sell their other products! Shame on them!

Okay, it probably sounds silly to you, but thanks for letting me vent on this critically important topic. I feel unburdened now. And just to be clear, this is my only gripe with the Volkswagen ads, that is, they are not inappropriate in the ways I have described above.

At any rate, I believe it’s time to redouble my efforts at muting commercials.

--------------------

P.S.
Wouldn’t you know it—these commercials have got us playing ‘punch buggy’ on car trips lately. We count any Beetle as fair game, though in almost all cases, we see the newer model Beetles that have come out in the last decade or so. The other day, however, I saw one of the classic 60s-era Beetles, and dutifully punched my eight year old (don’t take that out of context, please). My wife and I laughed as he wildly protested, “That’s not a buggy!” Naturally, we had to explain that once upon a time there was an older model of buggy . . . you just don’t see too many of them anymore. It’s comments like that that make a guy feel middle-aged.

I need a ruling . . . letting people in

Here’s one that has perplexed me for a long time. I need a ruling on the question of what is the most “courteous” course of action in the following situation. For some reason I find myself thinking counter to conventional practice on this matter.

I’m on my way home from work, and for reasons I’ve never been able to explain, traffic always seems to get worse in the spring. There is a particular traffic light on my commute that gets notoriously backed up. I’d say anywhere from 60-80 cars wait at the light in one lane, and about a dozen make it through at each green light. So the train of automobiles meanders back for about a quarter mile.

Now, the thing is, there just happens to be a 7-11 at this intersection. And, as you might imagine, during this busy time of day, motorists are exiting the 7-11 parking lot to get back on the road. To do this, they must turn onto the busy road that I am on, entering the traffic just before the light, and ahead of the 60-80 cars that are already waiting there.

You’ve been in this situation before, haven’t you? To be “courteous,” drivers allow people in, that is, they allow them onto the road from the 7-11. But by doing so, this just makes the traffic situation worse for everyone else.

So here is the question that riddles my mind. If I am nice to one person wanting to get on the road, am I not at the same time being rude to dozens of people behind me who have been waiting patiently for much longer than the 7-11 exitee?

If I charge right through the intersection without letting the person in, I may appear rude to that person, but in fact, I am being courteous to many people. And in a sense, I would just be “being fair” to the one person. After all, if they waited for seven to ten minutes to get onto the road, they would have waited just as long as everyone else.

In a nutshell, the way I think about it, I am being nice to 60-80 people, instead of showing special treatment to one. The “greater good” concept seems to apply here, doesn’t it?

You might be wondering what I really do in practice. Well, to be totally honest, a lot of times, despite my bold intentions, I “chicken out” at the last minute and let the person in. But believe me, I’m not happy about it. A few times I have stuck to my guns and not let the person in. But in these cases, I: (1) have felt a little like a jerk for not letting the person in (despite what I have reasoned here), or (2) have noticed that the next guy behind me lets the person in, so nothing is really gained anyway.

So as I see it, unless everyone subscribes to my logic, nothing will really change. And such a change, of course, will never happen. But please tell me that I at least have a valid idea that the “better” course of action is to be courteous to the many rather than being preferential to just one. At least I can be right in theory.

I need a ruling . . .