Come, Taste and See!

My Christian apologetics classes at Biola University are in full swing, and the rigorous studying is slowly corroding my writer's block. My mind is swimming with all sorts of Christian apologetics blogging material, so this post will kick off a series of apologetics-themed posts. But first, a few answers to a few common questions.

What in the world are Christian apologetics?

No, I'm not sorry I'm a Christian! The term "apologetics" comes from the Greek word "apologia" which means "a defense or justification". Christian apologetics is the field that offers thoughtful answers to the tough questions people ask about the claims of Christianity.

Why do we even need apologetics? No one ever got argued into the kingdom of heaven.

It's remarkable, really, how often I encounter this objection to apologetics. You would think the New Testament book of Acts doesn't chronicle the successful apologetic work of the Apostle Paul as he travels from synagogue to synagogue, debating the Jews and giving them good reasons to place their faith in Christ! Aside from the Apostle Paul's example however, there are other compelling reasons to add apologetics to our evangelistic tool belt.

Apologists believe that reality is iconoclastic --reality in its clearest, truest form has the power to shatter idols. When we truly understand the reality of God's goodness and love for us, our idols begin to crumble.

The work of the apologist then, is not always confrontational--it is often a shoulder-to-shoulder activity. The Christian apologist steps alongside people and begins to strip away any doubts or misconceptions that distort their vision of the reality of God's love by giving good answers to tough questions. Apologists invite others to, "Come step into my joy! Taste and see that God is good!" It's pretty tough to worship false gods when you've tasted the goodness of the one true God.

My goal as a Christian apologist is to invite others to step into my joy in Christ. I want to give them thoughtful answers to their questions. I want to challenge them to explore the knock-your-socks-off kind of life that Christ offers. And I want to help other Christians do the same. Because I'm convinced that the Truth sets people free.

The Truth Serum

An antidote to the poison of moral relativism*

Moral Relativism is...

Self Refuting: As soon as you say there is no absolute truth, you’ve just stated an absolute truth. It's no more sensible than describing a colorless red car, or a married bachelor.

Evil Enabling: Moral relativists can’t even say it’s absolutely wrong to torture babies for fun because relativists have no moral absolutes.

Racist Befriending: The relativists can’t say that it was absolutely wrong for the Nazis to murder the Jews or that American slavery was wrong.

Morally Stagnating: With relativism there is no room for moral improvement because there’s no moral standard to shoot for.

Mind Closing: Relativists declare "We're so open minded" but they are absolutely closed to anyone who believes in moral absolutes.

*Thanks to Clay Jones, Professor of Apologetics at Biola University, for introducing me to his Truth Serum.

I Want God

In the spirit of summer relaxation and brain vacations, I'm going to continue to post other people's poetry, for you all to enjoy.  My cousin, Evan Dunn, wrote this poem and performed it at a spoken word poetry slam awhile back.  It's a worthwhile read.

Disfruten!

I Want God

By Evan Dunn

Sit down and muse with me before the
fire burns desire
into the pages of my history.
I am unfulfilled,
like an unresolved chord
missing the third strand of rope
caught in the wind,
my fears rescind
my scandalous hope.

No mystery,
that the fire burning desire
into the pages of my history
should find me wanting God,
with passion something fierce and blistery—
blistery, not like the bubbled bumper sticker
on your Subaru Outback,
designed to designate superiority,
but instead screaming insecurity;
not like the glass that makes your mirror;
you so wish it was deformed,
so you pull your collar nearer:
but it’s perfect.
For its imperfection reflects your imperfection perfectly.
And you want more.

Just like before,
wanting God all the more,
for all your failures
that sew shut doors
just like before.

I want a God who
doesn’t disagree,
who
doesn’t mind my endless apathy,
who will pay my bills,
and bring me coffee—
don’t forget the artificial sweetener
in the drink of my choosing,
oh, and I get free refills,
because God didn’t make me,
I made God,
and when people died
my tears were shed,
not His,
and when little children cried
my veins were bled,
not His.

So I want a God who
feels a certain degree of sympathy
for me,
because I know what it’s like
to lose love and love lost things,
and I’ve spent so many days waiting
for the fat lady to sing,
and my ears are still straining
to hear that gorgeous note ring
salvation
in my ear—
Or maybe she already hit the note,
and I can’t hear,
for surely Deliverance from Death
is deafening,
and now life and I
are on two entirely different levels
like cubes to squares,
or color to the blind,
or free will to an ant—
I want a God who’s kind,
who waits patiently on my shelf
for me to come home
from another night out
with my heart on the roam,
and doesn’t get out of His place,
because, when I struggle,
God doesn’t see my face,
or hear my prayers—
I think He’s more like Cuban cigars,
or lofty airs,
always expensive,
hard to find,
and a tad removed,
a bit unkind.

I want God to be big,
and thoroughly involved,
to make sense of this viscous mess
into which we’ve evolved.
He’s gotta be there when I’m down,
and force me up the ladder
to the smile from my frown.
He must be with me!

…in my distress,
when hope is scarce
and I don’t dare
step lightly,
or my heart will tear a chasm in my chest,
…in my brokenness
when I screw up
and hurt my friends,
and this time
the fissure is born in their bones,
not mine,
…in my proclivity to hate
and at their behest
I would recount each sin
one by one
just to show I want to be done,
God must be with me!
…in my dishonor
when I’m ashamed
was that a mistake?
an honest mistake?
…in my loneliness
because honestly I didn’t make
it on purpose,
and honestly I can’t fake
…in my fear
misery,
though it’s practice
has proved natural
…in my loss
and common,
I am uncommonly common,
and especially not special
…in my gain, and benefit
in that I have tasted
heaven and hell,
…in my cost
though both fractionally…

I want a God who understands,
but when it comes to obedience
who stands
with the liberally laissez-faire
who’s always there,
but never too close,
who conveniently invades my personal bubble,
my blistered existence,
only when it won’t cause trouble,
who will show my blind eyes color,
and reveal my third dimension,
who will approach me without façade,
without pretention,
but who will not ask me to give up myself for Him,
unless He’s done the same.
I want to be rapturously wrapped within His arms,
but only sometimes…
Only…
I want a God who’s only love and never intrusion,
who’s only clarity,
never confusion,
but I haven’t noticed
that God doesn’t come
when I don’t want Him,
so if I really want Him,
maybe I should come to Him,
or come where I see Him.

God doesn’t show
when I do things that I know
I shouldn’t.
I often walk a mile blindly, anxiously shifting,
and at the end I wonder,
“Where were you God,
why weren’t you lifting
my soul?”
But was I looking?

I want Him when life is tough,
but I mistakenly only call on Him to soothe
my trembling hands
when they shouldn’t be trembling.
Perhaps He’s like a diamond in the rough,
but I only look when life is smooth.

Father, we are fractal, fractured, fractions of ourselves,
forgive us for condemning you,
and you would forgive us, deliver us,
from Hell,
and… well…
we don’t deserve it…
You made heaven,
and for those you choose,
but still I’m caught by the noose
that says I get what I want,
when I want,
how I want,
the way I want it—
the God I want
is sympathetic, apathetic,
powerful, weak,
one moment I have to run,
the next, deny,
and the next, seek;
I don’t think I can make up my mind,
‘cuz He’s all-perceiving, and blind,
too bold for me,
and too quiet to fix me;
Say something!
Have you said something?
I want God—


But I must recognize
the fine line that lies
between the God I want,
and the God He is.

Especially since
sometimes I want things
that I should not want,
and more often than not,
I haunt myself with me.

He invaded,
and retook
what was rightly His in us.
We are His.
He is power, He is love.
He is bold enough to break through our boring barriers,
and often comes in quiet storms,
raging rests that overtake our souls
with wonder, and with awe,
He is all—
And in this mirror,
Him showing me who I am,
He pulls my collar nearer—
There are no blisters!
No imperfections;
They’re gone!
And I hear the song-like note over my shoulder,
in my ear, which once was deaf,
in my head, my mind is made up,
singing, powerfully still, simple words:
“I have made you perfect.”
That is what salvation sounds like.

It is not as I described, is it?
I did not have to bargain with God—
He bargained for me…
With himself.
I did not have to argue with God—
He argued for me…
With himself.
I did not have to hide,
not even confine Him to a shelf.
Though I deserve to be on His bookcase,
He instead holds me before His very eyes—
and
I can see His face.

Thus sings grace,
our seldom-sold solace,
that trains our trifling hearts
to dream,
to dream;
that teaches our troubled souls
to hope,
to hope;
to know eternity within
as eternity with Him.
Muse on the mystery,
that He takes the blistery,
and makes it level,
so the horizon no longer carries on
the night,
and instead
reiterates
the dawn.

The fire burning desire
into the pages of my history
has crisped my blistered existence
into ashes,
the Phoenix God of Resurrection,
Jesus Christ,
blows gently on my fibrous ruins,
… and life…

Untitled

My little brother's friend is a poet, and a good one at that. I enjoyed his most recent poem, and I thought you might too. There's more where this came from!

Untitled

A flame fell over the horizon,

Followed by livid lilac smiles

And the sun's salmon-shaded shadows.

A new king's coming.

The blue above bows,

bending to a darker hue.

Creatures concede his supremecy,

Closing their eyes

In reverence to his reign.

Lowered heads lie on sunset beds

And cool air claims the atmosphere.

This is the Night.

A diamond-crested crown on his brow

And Moon-jeweled septor across his lap.

He sits upon his throne an emperor,

Submitting only to God and a sunlit sky.

She's Got a Mind of Her Own

My brain went missing a few weeks ago. I've been a little worried, but fortunately she just sent me an email informing me she is taking a lengthy vacation in the tropics. I guess my blogging will be light until she returns!

Some Exciting News!

Just wanted to let you all in on something pretty rad! Fashion designer Christopher Kane recently created a cutting edge clothing line... 

...and I was his inspiration!  

Today Made Me Smile

First thing this morning little Freddy walked up to me with little pieces of aluminum foil wrapped in his hair.  When I asked him what in the world was on his head he replied,  "It's an ancesory, Miss Jackson. That means it makes my hair look good."

A bit later one Virginia opened our morning with prayer:

"Dear Lord,
Please help us to have a good week and to have a fun summer. And if anyone is getting a cat or dog this summer, please help them to think of a cute name."

Mid-morning my students worked diligently on group projects, one of which was a creative skit.  The students performing the skit made their own sets and props.  Two of the boys wore delicate angel wings crafted from white copy paper.  The boys forgot they were wearing wings long after they had performed the skit, so I enjoyed watching their small white wings shiver and flap whenever they moved to and fro the rest of the day.  At one point, little Josh was on his hands and knees picking trash off the floor when I noticed cues for another actor in his skit written on his left wing:

Vicky slaps Pablo
Then she goes to the mall

Who knew angel wings were so useful? :)

Sometimes it's Nice to Take a Day Trip

The harder I try to keep my eyes open, the rawer they feel. There's a buzzing sensation in my lymph nodes, and they ache. Oh how they ache. My head feels too big for my neck. Like a bowling ball on a toothpick. I wish I could rest my heavy bowling ball head on my cluttered desk for a few minutes.

I'm staring out the window now, watching the moody clouds pass by quickly. Too quickly. I wish they'd just stop and hover for awhile, enjoying the raucous shouts of kids hanging from the jungle gym on our playground. I think they might like basking in Mr. Sun's warm rays and drinking in the musky scent of the earth they drenched last night. But they blow by, content to head eastward, unaware of all they're missing. Maybe their ignorance is bliss.

I think I will travel eastward with the clouds today. I'll ride away on the silvery cloud in the upper left pane of my window. She looks light and carefree. Perhaps she will whisk me off to the Sierra Nevada Mountains and I can watch her water the purple asters and the Giant Sequoia trees. Perched on my silvery chariot, I will throw pebbles into Lake Tahoe and watch the ripples surge outwards and lick the sandy shores. When shadows darken the mountaintops and the sun begins to set, my silvery cloud will swallow the dusky light and transform into a golden schooner. It will sail over the fiery orb dripping below the horizon, off into the night song of the star-spangled sky. As my schooner glides through a sea of stars, I will listen to the galaxies sing their harmonies, and I will roll over onto my back to watch them compose their celestial symphony. And then, I will drift off to sleep.

The next morning I will wake up in my bed, and I will smile as I look forward to my day, when I will listen to the gleeful shouts of children on the playground as the sun shines through the window, and the breeze carries the smell of moist earth through my cracked door.

May 29, 2009

Dear Diary,

Today I chipped my tooth on a polish dog.

Love,

Sarah

There's Something About a Good Man

I just watched the movie 3:10 to Yuma for the first time. There's nothing quite like getting swept up in the misfortunes of a loyal, soft-spoken rancher, who avenges the crimes of a pack of mangy outlaws, to remind you that there's something about a good man.

A good man stirs up something in my spirit.

He is willing to work hard for little pay, and refuses to wallow in his humiliating circumstances.

He chooses integrity over monetary gain, and would rather be remembered for his strength of conviction, than his power and affluence.

A good man's love for his family is selfless, and often leads him to stare death in the face, without blinking.

He models for his boys how to sweat hard, get dirty, and feel good about a day's work.

He makes a pair of wranglers look mighty fine.

He will postpone a long day's work to help a hurting stranger.He has a resolute determination to do what's right, even when his decision leads him down a road wrought with sorrow and hardship.

He embodies justice, but shows his enemies mercy.

When I see a good man, he evokes in me a fierce respect for my strong father and a deep love for my selfless mother. The good man makes me want to seek truth and hold fast to compassion. He makes me want to develop strength of character in my children, be a loyal wife to my husband, and always choose integrity over the easy route. He inspires me to be patient when I'm besieged by responsibilities, and to remain calm when tragedy strikes. He makes me want to be innovative, frugal, and content with little. A good man makes me want to skin and gut my own dinner. He stirs in me a longing to see mercy trump justice, and grace transform wicked hearts. He motivates me to work for my keep, pray for my daily bread, and be generous with what I have.

But in the end, the good man doesn't actually help me to do any of these things. And I guess, in the end, his heroic antics get him shot, his son still has a bad cough, his wife still has to put food on the table, and his kids have to learn to be a man without their father. Perhaps, if he happens to do a favor for a wealthy banker before he dies, his wife won't have to wear shabby dresses anymore, and his sons might learn how to read. Who knows, the bad guy's heart might even soften when he sees the tenacious drive of the good man to be good in the face of death. And maybe, just maybe, the bad guy goes to his grave feeling sorry for the lives and families he's destroyed. But he still dies eventually. Just like everyone else the good man knows.

Because there's something about a good man that just isn't enough.

"For who knows what is good for a man in life, during the few and meaningless days he passes through like a shadow? Who can tell him what will happen under the sun after he is gone?" Ecclesiastes 6:12

"You have made known to me the path of life;
you will fill me with joy in your presence,
with eternal pleasures at your right hand." Psalm 16:11"For everyone has sinned; we all fall short of God’s glorious standard." Romans 3:23

"For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life." John 3:16

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!" 2 Corinthians 5:17

Six Signs You're Not Getting Enough Sleep

1. You ask the car wash guy for an unscented air freshener.
2. You eat chocolate at 45 minute intervals throughout the day to keep your energy level stable.
3. You call your students "dude" because you can't remember their names.
4. You confidently explain to someone that the word "opaque" means "see through".
5. You forget you're teaching a science lesson in the middle of the lesson.

My On-Again, Off-Again Relationship With the Energizer Bunny

I'm pretty sure that last Wednesday the Energizer Bunny visited all of my students in their sleep and and gave their wind-up knobs a few extra twists.

Oh, didn't you know? All kids under the age of 14 have a tiny wind-up knob on the back of their necks. The knobs begin to disappear shortly after the kids hit high school, although boys typically keep their wind-up knobs a little longer than girls. Before high school though, the Energizer Bunny visits the kids nightly, winding their knobs so that they wake up with a plentiful energy store. Sometimes it's a pretty sweet deal; energetic kids are typically so much more eager to learn than adults. One of the downsides however, is that about mid-May the Energizer Bunny becomes ancy waiting for summer to arrive. And as we all know, anciness usually makes Energizer bunnies get a little wind-happy.

Enter: last Thursday.

All day Thursday my kids would have been plastered to the walls, hanging from the ceiling, and walking on their hands if I didn't have control over a little thing we call recess. I spent the bulk of Thursday morning wracking my brain for any trick I could use to keep my 18 little friends well-behaved. It turns out singing, juggling, miming, tap dancing, and a balance beam act are NOT effective energy-reducers.

I'm thinking of treating the Energizer Bunny to a lengthy, all-expense paid vacation to Bora Bora.

Finally, after cutting short a rather chaotic trip to the library, I had my students write sentences. While they were writing sentences I had to dash off to a meeting, leaving an aide to watch the kids. When I returned from my meeting after school, I found this:

And my favorite:

Hmmm, maybe that Energizer Bunny isn't so exasperating after all...