“The church is safe from vicious persecution at the hands of the secularist, as educated people have finished with stake-burning circuses and torture racks. No martyr’s blood is shed in the secular west. So long as the church knows her place and remains quietly at peace on her modern reservation. Let the babes pray and sing and read their Bibles, continuing steadfastly in their intellectual retardation; the church extinction will not come by sword or pillory, but by the quiet death of irrelevance. But let the church step off the reservation, let her penetrate once more the culture of the day and the … face of secularism will change from a benign smile to a savage snarl.”
R.C. Sproul

Most bizarre music video I’ve seen this week: http://ping.fm/8R3c7

LION CHASER’S MANIFESTO

Quit living as if the purpose of life is to arrive safely at death. Grab life by the mane. Set God-sized goals. Pursue God-ordained passions. Go after a dream that is destined to fail without divine intervention. Keep asking questions. Keep making mistakes. Keep seeking God. Stop pointing out problems and become part of the solution. Stop repeating the past and start creating the future. Stop playing it safe and start taking risks. Expand your horizons. Accumulate experiences. Consider the lilies. Enjoy the journey. Find every excuse you can to celebrate everything you can. Live like today is the first day and last day of your life. Don’t let what’s wrong with you keep you from worshipping what’s right with God. Burn sinful bridges. Blaze a new trail. Criticize by creating. Worry less about what people think and more about what God thinks. Don’t try to be who you’re not. Be yourself. Laugh at yourself. Quit holding out. Quit holding back. Quit running away.

Chase the lion.

– Mark Batterson

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I played a game called Chrono Cross many years back, and the opening sequence had this prose. Admittedly, I’m probably just sentimental and hokey, but I have always enjoyed it:

What was the start of all this?
When did the cogs of fate begin to turn?
Perhaps it is impossible to grasp that answer now,
From deep within the flow of time.

But for a certanty, back then
We loved so many yet hated so much
We hurt others and were hurt ourselves.

Yet even then we ran like the wind
Whilst our laughter echoed
Under cerulean skies.

Excerpt from my blog-rant yesterday (not posted).

We all want to be happy. We all want to be loved. We all have the same basic needs… but I believe the simplest and most significant human desire is this: we want meaning in life. Instinctively, we are driven to search for it. We all want something to live for; we want something to die for. We want that something we die for to give our own lives meaning. Without that something, our lives are worthless; without that something, life isn’t worth living.

Some live for fame. Some live for friends. Some live for money. Some die for their family. Some die for their country. Some die for their God.

I think the reason religion is so crucial in the lives of its followers is this — no matter what happens, there is always SOMETHING to live for, something to look forward to. Past all reason, past all logic in the world, there is something. Friendships are fragile. Money is here one day and gone the next. Families can be broken. Countries can be split. Nothing in this world can be held on to, no matter how hard one tries. We are so desperate for something that we do everything we can to find what it is and make our lives have meaning.

The question is so infinitely huge that it needs something just as infinite to answer it. The only sense that we can ever make of the void in our hearts has to come from something that makes no sense to everything we have known.

The Selfish Giant (Oscar Wilde)

The Selfish Giant
by Oscar Wilde
(1854-1900)

Every afternoon, as they were coming from school, the children used to go and play in the Giant’s garden.

It was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass. Here and there over the grass stood beautiful flowers like stars, and there were twelve peach-trees that in the spring-time broke out into delicate blossoms of pink and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit. The birds sat on the trees and sang so sweetly that the children used to stop their games in order to listen to them. “How happy we are here!” they cried to each other.

One day the Giant came back. He had been to visit his friend the Cornish ogre, and had stayed with him for seven years. After the seven years were over he had said all that he had to say, for his conversation was limited, and he determined to return to his own castle. When he arrived he saw the children playing in the garden.

“What are you doing here?” he cried in a very gruff voice, and the children ran away.

“My own garden is my own garden,” said the Giant; “any one can understand that, and I will allow nobody to play in it but myself.” So he built a high wall all round it, and put up a notice-board.

TRESPASSERS
WILL BE
PROSECUTED

He was a very selfish Giant.

The poor children had now nowhere to play. They tried to play on the road, but the road was very dusty and full of hard stones, and they did not like it. They used to wander round the high wall when their lessons were over, and talk about the beautiful garden inside. “How happy we were there,” they said to each other.

Then the Spring came, and all over the country there were little blossoms and little birds. Only in the garden of the Selfish Giant it was still winter. The birds did not care to sing in it as there were no children, and the trees forgot to blossom. Once a beautiful flower put its head out from the grass, but when it saw the notice-board it was so sorry for the children that it slipped back into the ground again, and went off to sleep. The only people who were pleased were the Snow and the Frost. “Spring has forgotten this garden,” they cried, “so we will live here all the year round.” The Snow covered up the grass with her great white cloak, and the Frost painted all the trees silver. Then they invited the North Wind to stay with them, and he came. He was wrapped in furs, and he roared all day about the garden, and blew the chimney-pots down. “This is a delightful spot,” he said, “we must ask the Hail on a visit.” So the Hail came. Every day for three hours he rattled on the roof of the castle till he broke most of the slates, and then he ran round and round the garden as fast as he could go. He was dressed in grey, and his breath was like ice.

“I cannot understand why the Spring is so late in coming,” said the Selfish Giant, as he sat at the window and looked out at his cold white garden; “I hope there will be a change in the weather.”

But the Spring never came, nor the Summer. The Autumn gave golden fruit to every garden, but to the Giant’s garden she gave none. “He is too selfish,” she said. So it was always Winter there, and the North Wind, and the Hail, and the Frost, and the Snow danced about through the trees.

One morning the Giant was lying awake in bed when he heard some lovely music. It sounded so sweet to his ears that he thought it must be the King’s musicians passing by. It was really only a little linnet singing outside his window, but it was so long since he had heard a bird sing in his garden that it seemed to him to be the most beautiful music in the world. Then the Hail stopped dancing over his head, and the North Wind ceased roaring, and a delicious perfume came to him through the open casement. “I believe the Spring has come at last,” said the Giant; and he jumped out of bed and looked out.

What did he see?

He saw a most wonderful sight. Through a little hole in the wall the children had crept in, and they were sitting in the branches of the trees. In every tree that he could see there was a little child. And the trees were so glad to have the children back again that they had covered themselves with blossoms, and were waving their arms gently above the children’s heads. The birds were flying about and twittering with delight, and the flowers were looking up through the green grass and laughing. It was a lovely scene, only in one corner it was still winter. It was the farthest corner of the garden, and in it was standing a little boy. He was so small that he could not reach up to the branches of the tree, and he was wandering all round it, crying bitterly. The poor tree was still quite covered with frost and snow, and the North Wind was blowing and roaring above it. “Climb up! little boy,” said the Tree, and it bent its branches down as low as it could; but the boy was too tiny.

And the Giant’s heart melted as he looked out. “How selfish I have been!” he said; “now I know why the Spring would not come here. I will put that poor little boy on the top of the tree, and then I will knock down the wall, and my garden shall be the children’s playground for ever and ever.” He was really very sorry for what he had done.

So he crept downstairs and opened the front door quite softly, and went out into the garden. But when the children saw him they were so frightened that they all ran away, and the garden became winter again. Only the little boy did not run, for his eyes were so full of tears that he did not see the Giant coming. And the Giant stole up behind him and took him gently in his hand, and put him up into the tree. And the tree broke at once into blossom, and the birds came and sang on it, and the little boy stretched out his two arms and flung them round the Giant’s neck, and kissed him. And the other children, when they saw that the Giant was not wicked any longer, came running back, and with them came the Spring. “It is your garden now, little children,” said the Giant, and he took a great axe and knocked down the wall. And when the people were going to market at twelve o’clock they found the Giant playing with the children in the most beautiful garden they had ever seen.

All day long they played, and in the evening they came to the Giant to bid him good-bye.

“But where is your little companion?” he said: “the boy I put into the tree.” The Giant loved him the best because he had kissed him.

“We don’t know,” answered the children; “he has gone away.”

“You must tell him to be sure and come here to-morrow,” said the Giant. But the children said that they did not know where he lived, and had never seen him before; and the Giant felt very sad.

Every afternoon, when school was over, the children came and played with the Giant. But the little boy whom the Giant loved was never seen again. The Giant was very kind to all the children, yet he longed for his first little friend, and often spoke of him. “How I would like to see him!” he used to say.

Years went over, and the Giant grew very old and feeble. He could not play about any more, so he sat in a huge armchair, and watched the children at their games, and admired his garden. “I have many beautiful flowers,” he said; “but the children are the most beautiful flowers of all.”

One winter morning he looked out of his window as he was dressing. He did not hate the Winter now, for he knew that it was merely the Spring asleep, and that the flowers were resting.

Suddenly he rubbed his eyes in wonder, and looked and looked. It certainly was a marvellous sight. In the farthest corner of the garden was a tree quite covered with lovely white blossoms. Its branches were all golden, and silver fruit hung down from them, and underneath it stood the little boy he had loved.

Downstairs ran the Giant in great joy, and out into the garden. He hastened across the grass, and came near to the child. And when he came quite close his face grew red with anger, and he said, “Who hath dared to wound thee?” For on the palms of the child’s hands were the prints of two nails, and the prints of two nails were on the little feet.

“Who hath dared to wound thee?” cried the Giant; “tell me, that I may take my big sword and slay him.”

“Nay!” answered the child; “but these are the wounds of Love.”

“Who art thou?” said the Giant, and a strange awe fell on him, and he knelt before the little child.

And the child smiled on the Giant, and said to him, “You let me play once in your garden, to-day you shall come with me to my garden, which is Paradise.”

And when the children ran in that afternoon, they found the Giant lying dead under the tree, all covered with white blossoms.

Re: How to Stump Anti-Abortionists With One Question

How to Stump Anti-Abortionists With One Question

I stumbled upon this blog entry (I say stumbled, but it was on my front page) as I was logging into WordPress today, and I must say, this really is deep.

There is a video accompanying the blog entry where a guy basically goes around and asks a few (presumably Christian) abortion protestors a single question that completely baffles each of them.

He starts out just kind of discussing with each individual person who if he/she thinks abortion should be illegal, if he/she thinks it is wrong, etc. — the basics. But then, he asks something that just COMPLETELY blows their socks off.

“If abortion was illegal, what should be done with the women who have illegal abortions?”

You can literally see some of their faces drop. It seems like a fairly simple question; but yet, one, for every one of them, is so hard to answer. His conclusion is that since these people think abortion is wrong but think that something such as, say, the death penalty or life imprisonment for abortion (which is, in fact, the murder of a human being) is absurd, he concludes that we must know deep down that anti-abortionists must know that abortion isn’t really murder.

While I don’t necessarily [want to] agree with it, it is a VERY interesting point. Why is this so hard for people who have spent years protesting abortion to answer? 

I have a few theories as to why this question is difficult for others to answer:

–

A. We want the things which we consider evil to disappear from the world, but it’s hard to determine a punishment for them. We do not want to think about the consequences that follow these laws… that’s not our job, right? If you, (forgive me for the watering down to a much lesser crime for means of comparison) take illegal immigration, for example. A lot of people think that you should not be allowed to enter the U.S. without going through proper procedure to get here, and if you are found to be illegally in the U.S., you should be shipped back to your country.

Is this really enough? If you think about how many people are trying to get into the U.S. just so they can start better lives, you’re talking about a pretty good crowd. Is it enough to just say: “Hey, you guys need to go back to your country and leave us alone kthx.” –?

One could say, “Why yes it is.. because these people aren’t going to try to do it again.. they’re too scared of what might happen to them.” What about their local laws, though? Do you think there’s no punishment for ‘abandoning ship’, as it were, and going to another country to get away from the law? I think if you’re trying to start a new life, you probably have a good bit of determination. Now, there are factors to consider such as the repercussions for actions when sent back to the home country, but what if they try to come back? If you have the guts to do it once, why not again?

Which leads us to the other argument — what if just telling them isn’t enough? If they are committing [what we deem to be] a legitimate crime, then why shouldn’t we punish them? If they break the law, they deserve to be punished. But if we were to imprison them, how long would be appropriate? 

It’s one thing to make a law — it’s another to enforce it. We can lay out a list of things that are right and wrong; we can list things you should and shouldn’t do… but determining consequences for those actions is a completely different ordeal. Depending on who you ask, an acceptable punishment could be a ‘slap on the wrist’ for immigrants, or it could be 30 years for violating a federal law. I’m not really sure that, with immigration, you could really let someone off for insanity, but there are many people who commit crimes because they are mentally ill or come from a background where actions which are looked down upon in the U.S. are appropriate.

Relating this back to abortion (and trying to be very, very careful on not rambling any more than I am), acceptable punishment would depend not only on one’s background, but also one’s state of mind. I am not saying that abortion is ever appropriate, but we as Americans view abortion differently than murder.

B.) Murder is something we see on the news, we see in images and movies, read in books, etc. — abortion simply isn’t as popular of a subject. By the time you are in middle school, you (hopefully) have a concept of what is appropriate and what isn’t; what is right and what is wrong. Your parents, teachers, and mentors have all told you that murdering people is wrong — but have they talked to you about abortion? In American society, it isn’t that cut-and-dry to many people, and thusly does not have the same ‘weight’ as traditional (?) murder. In short, we can say definitively that you should not murder others, but whenever you talk about abortion, people either get angry and start flinging Bibles or stare blankly into the wall in front of them. 

Most Americans could agree on the subject that murder is immoral, illegal, etc., and that those who murder should be punished severely. That has not changed, that has not been addressed, and since we are familiar with the notion that “murder is wrong”, it is firmly engrained into our heads that if people murder other people, that is what they deserve. 

C.) Many people are [mis/un]informed/are unaware of the horrors of abortion. 

Part of ‘the enigma of abortion’, I suppose, is the actual word itself. An abortion clinic sounds like something you walk into and order some fries and a shake from, and then about an hour you’re good to go. Say, for a minute, that all abortions were, infact, illegal in the United States — that they were considered the murdering of a baby.

If you saw on the news, “Woman arrested for abortion”, you would feel bad for the woman. If you saw, “Woman arrested for murdering baby,” however, you would not be so sympathetic.

Now, to the punishment — say a woman knew what abortion was about, knew she was killing her child, etc.: should she receive the same punishment as someone would for killing a baby (vague, I know… bear with me). The thing is, though, take into consideration the thousands of women that are not informed about abortion, does not fully understand what occurs, and has an abortion. It’s like a kid in a candy shop who wants something sweet to eat. He grabs a gift basket full of candy and walks out of the store. He knows that there’s a price for the candy, but he takes it anyways, because it’s something he wants. Should he receive the same punishment as a man who understands the seriousness of shoplifting and takes a gift basket of candy anyways?

No, he shouldn’t, because he doesn’t understand what he’s doing. He doesn’t realize how serious his crime is, and thusly should not be punished as harshly. Should he be let off completely? No. That only teaches the child that it’s okay to steal, and you won’t be punished for it.

 

So, if all abortions were illegal in the United States, do I believe that all women who abort should receive life imprisonment?  No. Different women have different circumstances. 

Some abortions may be done for medical reasons (the mother cannot birth the child, and without it there is a great chance both the mother and child will die). I don’t really think killing a human being to save a human being is a logical moral substitute for having an abortion for this reason, but back to the kid at the candy shop — I think it’s more pathetic/irresponsible/selfish than it is premeditation of a serious crime. However, it does come back to this: Abortion is murder, and murder is a serious crime. (But if you kill someone because you feared for your life because they were putting you in danger, is it really murder? What about that of a baby? Of that, I am unsure.)

Some abortions are, as you say, misinformed. I cannot quite think of an equivalent for “accidental murder”, so I would classify people who do not realize the seriousness of their actions as committing manslaughter. (But then again, where is the line between manslaughter and murder? How can you be sure if the mother knew the seriousness of her actions before she committed them?)

If a mother understands fully the atrocities involved with abortion and chooses to abort (I would think this a very rare circumstance), then I would impose on her the penalty that one receives for murdering a child. It may seem harsh, but if it is of no serious medical consequence to birth a child and she does not want to for her convenience and thusly chooses to abort (which is illegal in this scenario, mind you), then it only seems fair to punish her accordingly (to me, at least).

It’s obvious that abortion is NOT a subject which can be dismissed with simple questions. With it carries many circumstances, and with them carry much of which I cannot definitively define as valid or invalid, because I cannot define morality for others. I have my values, and ultimately, when it comes down to it, I have not experienced the feeling of not desiring my own child. I am sure the pain that comes with it is overwhelming, and there are many cases where expecting mothers feel that they have a valid reason to abort.

I pray about things like this, hoping God can tell me why certain things like this have to happen, and what runs through mothers’ minds before it occurs. I haven’t the insight to really say that this should never, ever occur. Speaking morally, I don’t believe it is right, but lawfully, circumstantial evidence can carry as much bearing in a ruling as the crime itself.

In terms of legality, it is a little simpler, but law is deeply tied with morality — and of that and abortion, I am ultimately undecided.