Well, not so new anymore -- but it just occurred to me that I should post my new address:
www.EverlastingPlace.com
Hope to see you there!
Kitty
Saturday, March 12, 2016
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Maureen
and me
It’s funny how the first
person you knew with a certain name can influence your feelings about that name
forever. Thanks to memorable characters from the distant past, my list of
favorite names includes Emily, Alison, Cathy, Sam, Joe, and Fred … and of
course there’s a counter-list of names that give me the creeps.
And then there’s the name Maureen.
In the early 60s, when I was around 10, my daddy the civil engineer was doing some business with a fellow named Jack DeWitt. One day Mr. DeWitt brought his wife and little girl to visit us inGreen
Bay Mt. Horeb , Wisconsin
Maureen was just my age, although much taller and neater than I, and she must’ve been awfully nice. Her visit has been etched in my memory by a couple of snapshots and a thank-you letter from her that has somehow survived nearly a half century of household moves and spring cleanings.
For some reason, I never came across another Maureen in the decades that followed – until a sunny Saturday afternoon in August of 2008, when I came home from the grocery store to find a lovely message waiting on voice mail. It had been left by a woman named Maureen Enriquez. She lived not far from us, she said, and had just finished reading Heaven Without Her (Thomas Nelson, 2008), a first-person account of my journey from feminist atheism to unshakable faith in Jesus Christ in the wake of my beloved Christian mother’s death.
“I’ve never called an author before,” the woman said, “but I just wanted to let you know how much I identified with your story!”
I picked up the phone and called “Maureen II,” as I’d already dubbed the bold Mrs. Enriquez. Learning that she and her husband were new Christians with a great interest in the Bible, I invited them to my Bible-teaching New Testament church. They showed up the following Sunday and have never left.
Once die-hard feminist career junkies, Maureen and I still work long hours. So it was that nearly three months passed before we were able to do anything more than chat before and after church services. But finally, in early November, she and I met in a rustic 19th century farmhouse restaurant for sandwiches.
Over the next hour, we found to our astonishment that our lives had been practically mirror images in key respects: We’d been born in the same year and had known the joy of storybook childhoods lived out in smallWisconsin
towns. We’d both been well-raised (and well-churched) by loving parents against
whom we had rebelled early, often and finally completely. Our dads had both
been self-made men, well-respected in their professions and communities. We’d
even both been crazy about everything from dogs, horses and tiger lilies to
dirndl dresses straight from Germany
As we were finishing up our sandwiches, Maureen said something that prompted me to ask her maiden name – a non sequitur, it would seem, but for some reason the question just popped out.
“DeWitt,” she said hesitantly, apparently finding it an odd question herself.
I gasped. “Maureen,” I said, almost unable to breathe, “is your father’s name Jack?”
She literally did a double-take. “How did you know?”
“Did you grow up inMt.
Horeb
“I never told you that!”
And so it was that I discovered Maureen II was actually one and the same as Maureen I, the little girl who’d come to visit nearly a half century ago.
So unbelievable was this discovery that she even called her 90-year-old father to see if it could possibly be true. Jack not only remembered my dad, who had died in 1970; he said they’d traveled toGermany
Maureen and I jabbered until the restaurant closed for the day, then parted reluctantly. It wasn’t until later that I realized I’d forgotten to tell my new old friend one of the most amazing facts of all: that in chapter 27 of Heaven Without Her, I’d named another long-ago little girl Maureen, because I flat-out couldn’t remember that little girl’s name.
This in spite of the fact that she had been my best friend during the remarkable summer of 1961, when my parents had left me, then eight, with family friends while they headed off to Europe. It was the summer that would, 40 years later, help me see the world with eternal eyes, as a heaven-bound child of God whose beloved parents have simply gone on ahead.
It was such a heartfelt story for me that I emailed Maureen to tell her about it, inserting a little passage from chapter 27 to jog her memory:
And then there’s the name Maureen.
In the early 60s, when I was around 10, my daddy the civil engineer was doing some business with a fellow named Jack DeWitt. One day Mr. DeWitt brought his wife and little girl to visit us in
Maureen was just my age, although much taller and neater than I, and she must’ve been awfully nice. Her visit has been etched in my memory by a couple of snapshots and a thank-you letter from her that has somehow survived nearly a half century of household moves and spring cleanings.
For some reason, I never came across another Maureen in the decades that followed – until a sunny Saturday afternoon in August of 2008, when I came home from the grocery store to find a lovely message waiting on voice mail. It had been left by a woman named Maureen Enriquez. She lived not far from us, she said, and had just finished reading Heaven Without Her (Thomas Nelson, 2008), a first-person account of my journey from feminist atheism to unshakable faith in Jesus Christ in the wake of my beloved Christian mother’s death.
“I’ve never called an author before,” the woman said, “but I just wanted to let you know how much I identified with your story!”
I picked up the phone and called “Maureen II,” as I’d already dubbed the bold Mrs. Enriquez. Learning that she and her husband were new Christians with a great interest in the Bible, I invited them to my Bible-teaching New Testament church. They showed up the following Sunday and have never left.
Once die-hard feminist career junkies, Maureen and I still work long hours. So it was that nearly three months passed before we were able to do anything more than chat before and after church services. But finally, in early November, she and I met in a rustic 19th century farmhouse restaurant for sandwiches.
Over the next hour, we found to our astonishment that our lives had been practically mirror images in key respects: We’d been born in the same year and had known the joy of storybook childhoods lived out in small
As we were finishing up our sandwiches, Maureen said something that prompted me to ask her maiden name – a non sequitur, it would seem, but for some reason the question just popped out.
“DeWitt,” she said hesitantly, apparently finding it an odd question herself.
I gasped. “Maureen,” I said, almost unable to breathe, “is your father’s name Jack?”
She literally did a double-take. “How did you know?”
“Did you grow up in
“I never told you that!”
And so it was that I discovered Maureen II was actually one and the same as Maureen I, the little girl who’d come to visit nearly a half century ago.
So unbelievable was this discovery that she even called her 90-year-old father to see if it could possibly be true. Jack not only remembered my dad, who had died in 1970; he said they’d traveled to
Maureen and I jabbered until the restaurant closed for the day, then parted reluctantly. It wasn’t until later that I realized I’d forgotten to tell my new old friend one of the most amazing facts of all: that in chapter 27 of Heaven Without Her, I’d named another long-ago little girl Maureen, because I flat-out couldn’t remember that little girl’s name.
This in spite of the fact that she had been my best friend during the remarkable summer of 1961, when my parents had left me, then eight, with family friends while they headed off to Europe. It was the summer that would, 40 years later, help me see the world with eternal eyes, as a heaven-bound child of God whose beloved parents have simply gone on ahead.
It was such a heartfelt story for me that I emailed Maureen to tell her about it, inserting a little passage from chapter 27 to jog her memory:
Arlene even found a playmate for me. Her name
was Maureen. She was my age and lived up the hill from Arlene’s house. Her
house was exotic, too: it had no upstairs, and her backyard was all wooded, and
there were these beautiful flowers in front, in a bed framed by split-rail
fencing. I remember in particular stunning orange blossoms with freckles, which
my new friend called tiger lilies.
“Imagine that,” I typed. “You had such an impact on me that I
even named this wonderful little girl after you!”
A little while later, Maureen emailed me back.
“My parents just about killed themselves,” she’d written, “laying down that split-rail fencing.”
Then, to make sure I didn’t miss her point, she added, “It completely escaped me that while reading chapter 27 I was reading about myself!”
I read these things through tears of joy, overwhelmed by a God who loves us enough to let us see His hand on our lives.
Perhaps that was His sole purpose in arranging this reunion. Or perhaps there are many others that Maureen and I will discover some happy day, now that we’ve both bounded through the narrow gate that leads to eternal life. Imagine how astounding it will be when we are able to examine the tapestry of this world and see the threads that have brought each of us into His kingdom forevermore!
There’s a post-script to this story. A few weeks later, right before Christmas, Maureen and I drove through a snow storm to visit her parents for a joyful reunion. We were even able to solve a final mystery: how she’d come across Heaven Without Her in the first place.
It turned out that her older brother had seen a review of my book in Acts & Facts magazine, a publication of the Institute for Creation Research inDallas
The rest, as they say, is history.
A little while later, Maureen emailed me back.
“My parents just about killed themselves,” she’d written, “laying down that split-rail fencing.”
Then, to make sure I didn’t miss her point, she added, “It completely escaped me that while reading chapter 27 I was reading about myself!”
I read these things through tears of joy, overwhelmed by a God who loves us enough to let us see His hand on our lives.
Perhaps that was His sole purpose in arranging this reunion. Or perhaps there are many others that Maureen and I will discover some happy day, now that we’ve both bounded through the narrow gate that leads to eternal life. Imagine how astounding it will be when we are able to examine the tapestry of this world and see the threads that have brought each of us into His kingdom forevermore!
There’s a post-script to this story. A few weeks later, right before Christmas, Maureen and I drove through a snow storm to visit her parents for a joyful reunion. We were even able to solve a final mystery: how she’d come across Heaven Without Her in the first place.
It turned out that her older brother had seen a review of my book in Acts & Facts magazine, a publication of the Institute for Creation Research in
The rest, as they say, is history.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
All Scientists Believe in Evolution
At least that would seem to be the case, wouldn't it? Except that it's like saying all Germans were devout followers of Hitler. Neither statement is true ... but there are good reasons that they may appear to be true.
The assertion that all scientists believe in evolution is the more dangerous of the two, because of its eternal ramifications: If science has proven evolution beyond the shadow of a doubt, then this universe could have popped into existence without the help of God. In fact, God may not exist at all, according to this line of thinking. And my goodness, if all scientists are in agreement on this thing, we'd be dumb to stick to our outmoded superstitions, wouldn't we?
Ah, but what if there are literally thousands of world-class scientists out there who reject evolution? That would be a different kettle of fish, wouldn't it?
A respected scientist named Dr. Jerry Bergman has now put that kettle on display for all to see. And Discerning Reader has just published my review of it, a remarkable book entitled Slaughter of the Dissidents: The Shocking Truth about Killing the Careers of Darwin Doubters. It's an important book, and I hope you'll check it out:
Slaughter of the Dissidents
The assertion that all scientists believe in evolution is the more dangerous of the two, because of its eternal ramifications: If science has proven evolution beyond the shadow of a doubt, then this universe could have popped into existence without the help of God. In fact, God may not exist at all, according to this line of thinking. And my goodness, if all scientists are in agreement on this thing, we'd be dumb to stick to our outmoded superstitions, wouldn't we?
Ah, but what if there are literally thousands of world-class scientists out there who reject evolution? That would be a different kettle of fish, wouldn't it?
A respected scientist named Dr. Jerry Bergman has now put that kettle on display for all to see. And Discerning Reader has just published my review of it, a remarkable book entitled Slaughter of the Dissidents: The Shocking Truth about Killing the Careers of Darwin Doubters. It's an important book, and I hope you'll check it out:
Slaughter of the Dissidents
Saturday, January 30, 2010
What I Learned in Journalism School
I graduated from college back in the dark ages of the 1970s, when you would think most subjects were relatively harmless, and most teaching was still truth-based.
Not so – but I realized how deceived I’d been only recently.
First, there was history: I spent almost all my electives on this subject, particularly modern American, German and Russian history. And except for a German history class taught by a very tough refugee from someplace like Munich, I earned mostly As and Bs. (The German gave me a C – my only sub-B at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. Nevertheless, since he’d said up front that to earn a C, you had to demonstrate a mastery of the material, I was pretty proud of that grade.)
But I was shocked to learn recently, in reading a firsthand account by a very trustworthy woman in my church, that the Soviets were busy invading southeastern countries like Romania in the early days of World War II. They had not, as I’d been taught, waited patiently for Allied permission to “rescue” eastern Europe after the war. Somehow my professors failed to mention this little matter of early invasion, just as they hadn’t bothered to teach us that Stalin’s bloodbaths extended far beyond his own political enemies. Nor did they ever mention that Mao was anything but a great guy – but then, I suppose Chinese history wasn’t their specialty.
Perhaps even worse, because it has impacted every generation of Americans since, were our journalism studies. This was in the heyday of Watergate, so you’d expect that we were well-taught in the art and science of objective investigative reporting, wouldn’t you?
But no. I was amazed to come across some of my old college papers and exams not long ago, and to see that my journalism training had shoved me firmly away from my Christian upbringing and towards agnosticism and finally atheism.
For instance, these fading papers and exams demonstrated how we J-school students venerated the “scientific method.” What’s more, I apparently thought it called for rejection of Authority – and yes, I spelled it Authority with a capital A, perhaps subconsciously rejecting the Creator Himself.
Another example: We were taught that reality is the product of the observed PLUS the observer, and that there is no reality or truth apart from this combination – in short, no objective, absolute truth. Reality is all shaped by our unique perspective, we were assured, and anyone who claims to know absolute truth is a buffoon or a liar (not that there is anything wrong with being a liar, mind you, unless you are claiming to know a little something about truth).
And another example: We J-school students studied General Semantics. I found an all-too-familiar definition of this field on Wikipedia: It’s “a form of mental hygiene that enables practitioners to avoid ideational traps built into natural language and 'common sense' assumptions, thereby enabling practitioners to think more clearly and effectively.”
My main takeaway from General Semantics was that we should reject labeling people. We should never say “I am a liar” or “he is a thief.” Instead, we should only describe a specific event, if we really must: “I am a person who lied when confronted by capitalist pigs,” or “he is a person who stole because his family was starving.”
In other words, anyone who would use biblical terms to describe a person would be thinking very fuzzily! Which meant we should NEVER repeat a passage such as Revelation 21:8, which says, “But the cowardly, unbelieving, abominable, murderers, sexually immoral, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars shall have their part in the lake which burns with fire and brimstone, which is the second death.”
Perhaps this explains in part why it would’ve been quite impossible for a go-with-the-flow UWM journalism student in the ‘70s to embrace the Bible, even if he or she could be bothered to read it. It contradicted all we were learning!
Instead, we embraced all these cool General Semantics ideas such as “the Ploggly Theory,” created by a professor of speech pathology. (Don’t ask me why something developed by a speech pathology professor was part of the journalism curriculum. I haven’t a clue.)
The Ploggly Theory is a cute name for some eternally fatal thinking, because it says that anything we can’t see is a Ploggly – a figment of our imaginations. And that includes everything from fairies, demons and devils to, of course, gods. Plogglies were a contemptuous dismissal of Christianity and the Bible, which tells us in 2 Corinthians 4 that the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal.
There you have it – yet another example of our tax dollars at work, educating the very people charged with making sense of the world around us. And Plogglies are still out there on the internet, being presented by smug intellectuals as proofs against what one person called “that giant Spook in the sky”!
All these General Semantics concepts were presented in high-falootin’ abstract language. It fooled me into thinking this field oh-so-intellectual and smart compared with ”prescientific” teachings like “in the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.” I would say it’s all just silly blather, but that wouldn’t be true – because it was definitely Satanically designed to change our worldviews from what’s now scornfully called the “Judeo-Christian ethic” to an entirely relativistic worldview.
And here we are, nearly 40 years later, a culture tolerant of all viewpoints but one, with a citizenry incapable of even imagining absolute truth, let alone tolerating anyone who proclaims it.
Not so – but I realized how deceived I’d been only recently.
First, there was history: I spent almost all my electives on this subject, particularly modern American, German and Russian history. And except for a German history class taught by a very tough refugee from someplace like Munich, I earned mostly As and Bs. (The German gave me a C – my only sub-B at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. Nevertheless, since he’d said up front that to earn a C, you had to demonstrate a mastery of the material, I was pretty proud of that grade.)
But I was shocked to learn recently, in reading a firsthand account by a very trustworthy woman in my church, that the Soviets were busy invading southeastern countries like Romania in the early days of World War II. They had not, as I’d been taught, waited patiently for Allied permission to “rescue” eastern Europe after the war. Somehow my professors failed to mention this little matter of early invasion, just as they hadn’t bothered to teach us that Stalin’s bloodbaths extended far beyond his own political enemies. Nor did they ever mention that Mao was anything but a great guy – but then, I suppose Chinese history wasn’t their specialty.
Perhaps even worse, because it has impacted every generation of Americans since, were our journalism studies. This was in the heyday of Watergate, so you’d expect that we were well-taught in the art and science of objective investigative reporting, wouldn’t you?
But no. I was amazed to come across some of my old college papers and exams not long ago, and to see that my journalism training had shoved me firmly away from my Christian upbringing and towards agnosticism and finally atheism.
For instance, these fading papers and exams demonstrated how we J-school students venerated the “scientific method.” What’s more, I apparently thought it called for rejection of Authority – and yes, I spelled it Authority with a capital A, perhaps subconsciously rejecting the Creator Himself.
Another example: We were taught that reality is the product of the observed PLUS the observer, and that there is no reality or truth apart from this combination – in short, no objective, absolute truth. Reality is all shaped by our unique perspective, we were assured, and anyone who claims to know absolute truth is a buffoon or a liar (not that there is anything wrong with being a liar, mind you, unless you are claiming to know a little something about truth).
And another example: We J-school students studied General Semantics. I found an all-too-familiar definition of this field on Wikipedia: It’s “a form of mental hygiene that enables practitioners to avoid ideational traps built into natural language and 'common sense' assumptions, thereby enabling practitioners to think more clearly and effectively.”
My main takeaway from General Semantics was that we should reject labeling people. We should never say “I am a liar” or “he is a thief.” Instead, we should only describe a specific event, if we really must: “I am a person who lied when confronted by capitalist pigs,” or “he is a person who stole because his family was starving.”
In other words, anyone who would use biblical terms to describe a person would be thinking very fuzzily! Which meant we should NEVER repeat a passage such as Revelation 21:8, which says, “But the cowardly, unbelieving, abominable, murderers, sexually immoral, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars shall have their part in the lake which burns with fire and brimstone, which is the second death.”
Perhaps this explains in part why it would’ve been quite impossible for a go-with-the-flow UWM journalism student in the ‘70s to embrace the Bible, even if he or she could be bothered to read it. It contradicted all we were learning!
Instead, we embraced all these cool General Semantics ideas such as “the Ploggly Theory,” created by a professor of speech pathology. (Don’t ask me why something developed by a speech pathology professor was part of the journalism curriculum. I haven’t a clue.)
The Ploggly Theory is a cute name for some eternally fatal thinking, because it says that anything we can’t see is a Ploggly – a figment of our imaginations. And that includes everything from fairies, demons and devils to, of course, gods. Plogglies were a contemptuous dismissal of Christianity and the Bible, which tells us in 2 Corinthians 4 that the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal.
There you have it – yet another example of our tax dollars at work, educating the very people charged with making sense of the world around us. And Plogglies are still out there on the internet, being presented by smug intellectuals as proofs against what one person called “that giant Spook in the sky”!
All these General Semantics concepts were presented in high-falootin’ abstract language. It fooled me into thinking this field oh-so-intellectual and smart compared with ”prescientific” teachings like “in the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.” I would say it’s all just silly blather, but that wouldn’t be true – because it was definitely Satanically designed to change our worldviews from what’s now scornfully called the “Judeo-Christian ethic” to an entirely relativistic worldview.
And here we are, nearly 40 years later, a culture tolerant of all viewpoints but one, with a citizenry incapable of even imagining absolute truth, let alone tolerating anyone who proclaims it.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
On Critters and the Creator
A girlfriend emailed me this little essay this morning:
THE BUZZARD: If you put a buzzard in a pen that is 6 feet by 8 feet and Is entirely open at the top, the bird, in spite of its ability to fly, will be an absolute prisoner. The reason is that a buzzard always begins a flight from the ground with a run of 10 to 12 feet. Without space to run, as is its habit, it will not even attempt to fly, but will remain a prisoner or life in a small jail with no top.
THE BAT: The ordinary bat that flies around at night, a remarkable nimble creature in the air, cannot take off from a level place. If it is placed on the floor or flat ground, all it can do is shuffle about helplessly and, no doubt, painfully, until it reaches some slight elevation from which it can throw itself into the air. Then, at once, it takes off like a flash.
THE BUMBLEBEE: A bumblebee, if dropped into an open tumbler, will be there until it dies, unless it is taken out. It never sees the means of escape at the top, but persists in trying to find some way out through the sides near the bottom. It will seek a way where none exists, until it completely destroys itself.
PEOPLE: In many ways, we are like the buzzard, the bat, and the bumblebee. We struggle about with all our problems and frustrations, never realizing that all we have to do is look up! That's the answer, the escape route and the solution to any problem! Just look up.
Our Creator has given us so many clues in creation about our relationship with Him. I’m not sure how well the BUZZARD and the BAT fit the writer’s particular PEOPLE conclusion. Seems like the BUZZARD and the BAT wouldn’t gain anything by looking up. But maybe there’s a different message with them. The BAT, for instance, may hint that we must suffer a fall in self-esteem before we can approach His throne as He commands, in humility.
But assuming that it could fly upwards in such confinement, the BUMBLE BEE may fit the “look up” advice perfectly – and may be a beautiful reflection of Proverbs 3:5-6:
Trust in the Lord with all your heart,
and lean not on your own understanding;
in all your ways acknowledge Him,
and He shall direct your paths.
In our pet-full household, I think often of cats and dogs and their relationships with us as metaphors for our relationships with God.
Mindy our Persian has nothing to do with us unless she is hungry. She would be happiest if we left her totally alone, which is a real problem with a cat with a cottony coat; we have to comb her and cut out the mats for her own good, in spite of the fact that it is torture for her to be held and touched. She considers herself supremely independent, and us, food dispensers at best.
When she is awake, Lucy the Basset has separation anxiety even if we simply close a door on her. A real surprise, considering how she ignores our commands when anything more interesting is going on around her.
Sir Wally the Oriental Shorthair follows us around, sleeps on us, sleeps on my desk all day long, and comes running when we call him. He talks to us constantly. He has no use for the other pets, except he seems to like Shad the yellow lab. Shad is very similar to Wally, in that he sticks close to us and obeys us even when he’d rather not. Shadow's only flaw is his fear of nail trims, fallout from a traumatic trim a few years ago, but of course we have no choice – he just can’t bring himself to trust us to be doing what’s best for him.
I think the lesson is that God wants us to be like Wally and Shadow – always with our hearts turned towards Him, responsive, obedient, and wanting to be near Him more than anything in the world.
I don’t know anyone else’s heart, but I’d guess that most authentic Christians are probably more like Lucy, wanting to be close to Him but wandering far away during the course of most days; perhaps that’s why He set aside Sunday as a day for us to concentrate on our relationship with Him.
And I’ll bet that most cultural or cafeteria Christians (those who pick what they like out of what little they know about God, and ignore the rest) are more like Mindy -- turning to Him only when they have an immediate earthly need for Him, and otherwise thinking of Him as someone entirely different from who He really is.
THE BUZZARD: If you put a buzzard in a pen that is 6 feet by 8 feet and Is entirely open at the top, the bird, in spite of its ability to fly, will be an absolute prisoner. The reason is that a buzzard always begins a flight from the ground with a run of 10 to 12 feet. Without space to run, as is its habit, it will not even attempt to fly, but will remain a prisoner or life in a small jail with no top.
THE BAT: The ordinary bat that flies around at night, a remarkable nimble creature in the air, cannot take off from a level place. If it is placed on the floor or flat ground, all it can do is shuffle about helplessly and, no doubt, painfully, until it reaches some slight elevation from which it can throw itself into the air. Then, at once, it takes off like a flash.
THE BUMBLEBEE: A bumblebee, if dropped into an open tumbler, will be there until it dies, unless it is taken out. It never sees the means of escape at the top, but persists in trying to find some way out through the sides near the bottom. It will seek a way where none exists, until it completely destroys itself.
PEOPLE: In many ways, we are like the buzzard, the bat, and the bumblebee. We struggle about with all our problems and frustrations, never realizing that all we have to do is look up! That's the answer, the escape route and the solution to any problem! Just look up.
Our Creator has given us so many clues in creation about our relationship with Him. I’m not sure how well the BUZZARD and the BAT fit the writer’s particular PEOPLE conclusion. Seems like the BUZZARD and the BAT wouldn’t gain anything by looking up. But maybe there’s a different message with them. The BAT, for instance, may hint that we must suffer a fall in self-esteem before we can approach His throne as He commands, in humility.
But assuming that it could fly upwards in such confinement, the BUMBLE BEE may fit the “look up” advice perfectly – and may be a beautiful reflection of Proverbs 3:5-6:
Trust in the Lord with all your heart,
and lean not on your own understanding;
in all your ways acknowledge Him,
and He shall direct your paths.
In our pet-full household, I think often of cats and dogs and their relationships with us as metaphors for our relationships with God.
Mindy our Persian has nothing to do with us unless she is hungry. She would be happiest if we left her totally alone, which is a real problem with a cat with a cottony coat; we have to comb her and cut out the mats for her own good, in spite of the fact that it is torture for her to be held and touched. She considers herself supremely independent, and us, food dispensers at best.
When she is awake, Lucy the Basset has separation anxiety even if we simply close a door on her. A real surprise, considering how she ignores our commands when anything more interesting is going on around her.
Sir Wally the Oriental Shorthair follows us around, sleeps on us, sleeps on my desk all day long, and comes running when we call him. He talks to us constantly. He has no use for the other pets, except he seems to like Shad the yellow lab. Shad is very similar to Wally, in that he sticks close to us and obeys us even when he’d rather not. Shadow's only flaw is his fear of nail trims, fallout from a traumatic trim a few years ago, but of course we have no choice – he just can’t bring himself to trust us to be doing what’s best for him.
I think the lesson is that God wants us to be like Wally and Shadow – always with our hearts turned towards Him, responsive, obedient, and wanting to be near Him more than anything in the world.
I don’t know anyone else’s heart, but I’d guess that most authentic Christians are probably more like Lucy, wanting to be close to Him but wandering far away during the course of most days; perhaps that’s why He set aside Sunday as a day for us to concentrate on our relationship with Him.
And I’ll bet that most cultural or cafeteria Christians (those who pick what they like out of what little they know about God, and ignore the rest) are more like Mindy -- turning to Him only when they have an immediate earthly need for Him, and otherwise thinking of Him as someone entirely different from who He really is.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Looking for the perfect Mother's Day gift?
What better gift could you give your mom than the promise of spending eternity together in heaven?
Just a decade ago, I was a feminist atheist who laughed at those who thought we could even know for sure that heaven exists.
If your mother is like I was then, it’s my fervent prayer that you’ll give her the tools she needs to begin investigating this question. I recommend as a good starting point my own book, Heaven Without Her (Thomas Nelson, 2008). In fact, I wrote it in large part to persuade rational skeptics that absolute truth does exist, and to provide a solid itinerary for discovering it.
If you don’t think she’d be interested in my story, I hope you’ll check out my bibliography, and consider giving her one or two of the 40+ books highlighted there. Among those I recommend most highly is The Universe Next Door: A Basic Worldview Catalog by James Sire. If it weren’t for this outstanding volume, I might still be floundering around in search of the truth.
Just a decade ago, I was a feminist atheist who laughed at those who thought we could even know for sure that heaven exists.
If your mother is like I was then, it’s my fervent prayer that you’ll give her the tools she needs to begin investigating this question. I recommend as a good starting point my own book, Heaven Without Her (Thomas Nelson, 2008). In fact, I wrote it in large part to persuade rational skeptics that absolute truth does exist, and to provide a solid itinerary for discovering it.
If you don’t think she’d be interested in my story, I hope you’ll check out my bibliography, and consider giving her one or two of the 40+ books highlighted there. Among those I recommend most highly is The Universe Next Door: A Basic Worldview Catalog by James Sire. If it weren’t for this outstanding volume, I might still be floundering around in search of the truth.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Evangelistic Icebreakers
We all want to share the Gospel, but it can be tough to swing a conversation to the things of God. Fortunately, it doesn’t have to be difficult; we just have to train ourselves to spot opportunities and apply the appropriate evangelistic icebreakers. Here are some idea-starters.
Pets. Try animal talk to reach the hearts of pet-lovers. I often share this thrilling fact: “In the original Hebrew, the book of Genesis uses the word nephesh, or ‘living soul,’ for both man and vertebrate animals. Our pets seem to have souls, according to the Bible -- which means they may go to Heaven!”
Prophecy. Turn the topic to current events in Israel, and you can drive it to God’s word. Chatting with a long-retired general and lifelong agnostic recently, I showed him what the 2500-year-old book of Ezekiel says about Persia conspiring against Israel in end times. “Persia is Iran,” he said, obviously stunned. “And Persia was always a friend to Israel.” He looked at me through tears. “Until now.”
Opinion. To cut to the chase, try this: “I’m doing an informal survey. Could I ask you what you think it takes to get into heaven?”
Awe. Start collecting and sharing God-glorifying facts. Here’s a gem I’ve used to get people thinking about our origins: “Did you know that all the DNA in your body would fit into an ice cube, but if you could stretch it out it’d reach at least 10 billion miles? Talk about evidence for intelligent design!”
Culture. Our culture may ignore the Lord, but you can use it to glorify Him. I recently saw a dreary but acclaimed movie about Alzheimer’s. The theme? Our utter hopelessness. I now share the story with local nursing home residents, emphasizing that for the Christian, just the opposite is true: A joyful eternity awaits born-again children of God!
Once you start looking for potential icebreakers, you’ll find them everywhere – in the books you’re reading, in the creation around you, in art and music, history and science. In short, everywhere.
Once you start using them, you’ll become adept at steering conversations straight to the Gospel whenever you have a receptive audience. For instance, the pet example could lead to something like this: “Of course, we have to make sure we get there ourselves. Are you certain that you’ll go to heaven when you die? Have I got good news for you!”
Pets. Try animal talk to reach the hearts of pet-lovers. I often share this thrilling fact: “In the original Hebrew, the book of Genesis uses the word nephesh, or ‘living soul,’ for both man and vertebrate animals. Our pets seem to have souls, according to the Bible -- which means they may go to Heaven!”
Prophecy. Turn the topic to current events in Israel, and you can drive it to God’s word. Chatting with a long-retired general and lifelong agnostic recently, I showed him what the 2500-year-old book of Ezekiel says about Persia conspiring against Israel in end times. “Persia is Iran,” he said, obviously stunned. “And Persia was always a friend to Israel.” He looked at me through tears. “Until now.”
Opinion. To cut to the chase, try this: “I’m doing an informal survey. Could I ask you what you think it takes to get into heaven?”
Awe. Start collecting and sharing God-glorifying facts. Here’s a gem I’ve used to get people thinking about our origins: “Did you know that all the DNA in your body would fit into an ice cube, but if you could stretch it out it’d reach at least 10 billion miles? Talk about evidence for intelligent design!”
Culture. Our culture may ignore the Lord, but you can use it to glorify Him. I recently saw a dreary but acclaimed movie about Alzheimer’s. The theme? Our utter hopelessness. I now share the story with local nursing home residents, emphasizing that for the Christian, just the opposite is true: A joyful eternity awaits born-again children of God!
Once you start looking for potential icebreakers, you’ll find them everywhere – in the books you’re reading, in the creation around you, in art and music, history and science. In short, everywhere.
Once you start using them, you’ll become adept at steering conversations straight to the Gospel whenever you have a receptive audience. For instance, the pet example could lead to something like this: “Of course, we have to make sure we get there ourselves. Are you certain that you’ll go to heaven when you die? Have I got good news for you!”
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