Something for nothing

My Dad taught me that nobody gets something for nothing unless someone somewhere is getting nothing for something. In Las Vegas this means the house never loses. Gambling games are calculated to guarantee this. Odds are designed to make it impossible for a casino to pay out more money than it takes in. Because human nature is warped as it is, we only want to remember the stories of big winners. They are the ones that brag. Losers go home broke and do not get interviewed by the media. This makes great advertising for the casinos who never claim bankruptcy, but simply keep building bigger and better hotels. When you come away from Vegas with more money than when you arrived, it is simply because several other people lost enough money to pay for your winnings and the casino's enormous profits as well.

I am guessing that you already know this. But my point in bringing it up is to make an analogy to the way government works. The federal government has no money except that which has been collected from each of the states in the union. Without a strong militia, for example, we cannot long exist. This is a national expense, and a legitimate one at that. According to Romans 13:6 this is the very reason we pay taxes.

But when politicians have as their primary goal to be re-elected, queer things begin to happen in congress. They print flyers boasting of their effectiveness to their constituents by claiming that they are able to bring more money into the state than has been taken out. We got more federal funds than that other state out there, and therefore we ought to re-elect senator Jane Moneygrab. She can do more for us than Joe Goodheart. You see where I am going with this. While we are getting something for nothing, someone else is getting nothing for something. They may have poor congressional representation, or they may have morally superior senators. It just might be that they vote for bills that send disproportionate funds to another state because in the nature of the case it is the right thing to do.

How much money can our struggling economy save if we cut out the "earmarks" and "porkbarrel riders" from our legislating process? I am not an economist, nor have I studied political science, but this doesn't take genius to see. I am as sure as I am sitting at this console that no one gets something for nothing unless someone somewhere is getting nothing for something. Am I missing something?

Speaking Truth

I'm remembering a dear brother in Christ from about 50 years ago. Let me introduce you to my friend by first doing a little preaching. Ephesians 4:15 exhorts us to be "speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in all aspects into Him who is the head, even Christ." In it's context those words are telling us how we contribute to each other's spiritual growth. The body is a unit, but each of us has his or her own contribution to the good of all the rest. And at least one way this is done is by the way we talk to each other. Here the apostle tells us to speak truth to each other.

I can imagine at least three ways in which speaking the truth in love can be understood as designed to build up one another. First, of course, is the sense in which untruths will only lead us astray. And that never helps us grow. Vital, helpful relationships are characterized by honesty. My wife always asks me how she looks in a particular combination of clothing or jewelery. I never allow myself to be cruel about it, but I know she expects the truth from me. I'll tell her why I like something else better. The lesson here is that a wife should never ask her husband questions like this and then get miffed when she is told the truth. In the long run, the honesty is appreciated as helpful and contributes to the intimacy a couple enjoys.

The second sense in which speaking the truth can be understood, is found in verse 29 where the apostle insists that we never speak corrosive words, but only words that build up and minister grace. This is akin to the old adage that if you can't say something nice about a person, don't say anything at all. That may not be a bible quotation, but it is biblical in its sentiment.

But I can't shake the notion that the phrase "speaking the truth in love" carries an even more profound sense. I think we need to speak THE truth to one another. Not necessarily just quoting bible verses to each other, but reminding each other of bible truths will certainly be edifying.

I think I have experienced this. When I was in seminary (many years ago) we attended a little OPC in Philadelphia called "Mediator". Barbara and I worked with the Jr. Hi kids in this church, and there was an elder there whose name was Charles Mayson. I love that man. He had the most uncanny ability to stimulate my thinking in godly ways. In natural conversation he would ask questions like, "Do you think Jesus knew our names?" Then we would talk through who Jesus is, and see the obvious conclusion together. "Does God change His plans in order to answer our prayers?" We both knew better than that, but chatting about the answer took my mind in good spiritual pathways. I wish I could identify a friend today who stimulated me the way Charles Mayson did.

A few years ago we found Barbara's baptismal certificate in our archives, and were taken aback to find it was signed by elder Charles Mayson. It seems that Barbara's father, the Rev. Russell D. Piper, also attended Westminster Seminary, and knew that same elder when his first child was born and was presented for baptism.

I think I'll pray that God will give me a friend like that. Better yet, I need to pray that I might be that kind of friend to someone else.

"Healing Power of Jesus"

Those were the words that caught my attention. They were in a 4 page advertising flyer that came into our home. Actually I used the coupon on the other page to get a cheap haircut. But now I am confronted with another cheap ad that takes my Lord's name in vain. It's just a cheap, copper, bracelet with magnetic therapy with the name "Jesus" molded into it. It claims to provide the penetrating power of magnets and also the soothing power of copper. If you wear this bracelet, and believe in the miracles of Jesus you will be combining "the most powerful forces of heaven and earth!"

The blasphemy makes me want to scream.

The only thing that makes it worse is the picture of some dude with shoulder length hair that I have learned by experiencing my culture is supposed to be Jesus. They didn't have cameras two thousand years ago. No portrait artists asked Him to sit for them. But I think I recognize this guy. We had several guys who looked almost exactly like this back in the sixties. Only then we called them "hippies". This guy looks far too western to be the middle eastern Jew that Jesus must have resembled. The Bible specifically says he has no form or comeliness that we should desire him. Teenagers did not nudge one another and call him "hot". He was no rock star with frenzied crowds following.

The draw that Jesus had was found in his words and deeds that came from heaven. His words are the words of life, and his deeds pointed to Him as the Lord of glory who can heal and save.

This bracelet that can be bought for less than 10 bucks makes Jesus so cheap!

I haven't even touched upon the breach of the second commandment. This is certainly intended to be a graven image of Someone in heaven. If God is jealous for the glory of His Son, He must be angry at such degradation of our Savior represented by this newsprint hawking of His blessed name.

Ugly Anniversary

No, no, not my anniversary. The anniversary of Roe v. Wade in 1973. One of the very few times our denomination ever addressed the president of the United States was the occasion of anticipating the legalization of abortion. I was there at that General Assembly. The Orthodox Presbyterian Church is extremely reluctant to communicate with any representatives of our government. Others do so with such frequency and relative frivolities that we shy away from any appearance of church interfering with the state.

I attended the premier viewing of Frances Schaeffer's film series: "How Shall We Then Live?" in the Oakland auditorium. C. Everett Koop, who served the USA as Surgeon General, was there, telling us that the thinking of our medical and academic liberals were demonstrating intellectual schizophrenia by declaring that a fetus is not a human an hour before it is born, but actually is a human as soon as he is born. We learned that human life is actually determined not by objective scientific determination, but by the whim of the mother. If she doesn't want the fetus to become a child, it doesn't. On the other hand, if an expectant mother is abused, resulting in a spontaneous abortion, the abuser can be charged with the murder of a human being.

We've come a long way since 1973. The unconscionable slaughter of one and a half million babies a year for almost 40 years creates an appalling debt of national sin. It is hard not to believe that God's patience will soon come to an end and break forth with judgment against us.

More recently I remember carrying a sign on the side of the road on the anniversary of Roe v. Wade a few years ago. These Christian protesters had signs like, "Equal rights for unborn women" or simply "Abortion Kills". A pedestrian passed me with a frown, saying, "And what are we going to do with all the extra children?" Of course I was able to say, "Well we adopted two of them. How about you?" But he kept walking and grumbling.

Is it possible that abortion advocates actually believe they are not killing innocent human beings? Is it possible that they really believe that five minutes before birth she is not a true human life? Is this the kind of warp that develops in human thinking when we are determined to sin? It must be so or else why in the world would "civilized" human beings perform or defend partial birth abortions?

At least Norma McCorvey (the real name of Jane Roe) has been forgiven and received by Christ. Now she crusades against the infamous court decision that bears her name. But nobody listens. When a culture becomes hell-bent on justified slaughter of innocents, there is no reasoning with it. The Ammonites did the same with their sacrificed babies in the red hot arms of Moloch. But God's judgement finally broke loose on them.

The Rat

Modesto Christian School encouraged the students to be engaged in the pursuit of science, and it seemed that hands on experience was a good way to do that. Accordingly, Bobby's 6th grade class had a live rat in a cage in their room. Perhaps everyone has had a similar time in their schooling. We found out about this project the day Bobby came home with a large cardboard box containing this white rodent. "What's this for?" "Each kid in our class is taking a turn to bring him home for the weekend to make sure he gets fed." Well, of course, all six of our kids appreciated this cute deviation from family routine. He got plenty of attention. I don't remember if we gave him a name, or if he already had a name, but if I accurately remember what kids are like, it is likely we called him something other than "rat".

I'm guessing that every weekend was a grand gastronomic vacation for Mr. Rat, as kids tend to be overly kind to these beasts. At any rate we had the room and the curious inclination to host him for the weekend. What we foolishly ignored was the fact that Mr. Rat came to our home in a cardboard box. We had no wire cage. It usually does not require inductive experiments to realize that rats gnaw. And cardboard is very easily gnawed by a rat. And therein lies the tale (tail?).

During the night Mr. Rat discovered the emotion of loneliness. He missed the attention that six adoring young humans had been lavishing on this rodent all day long. Now it was dark and quiet. Are rats nocturnal creatures anyway? Seeking human companionship, he quickly gnawed a hole in his box, and began to explore the house. We put him on the service porch where the vacuum was stored, but nobody even thought to shut the door. It was a sprawling ranch house. He passed through the kitchen and the family room and down the hall. He passed the bathroom, Donna's room and two other rooms that served as boys dormitories. We found no evidence that he explored these rooms, but he certainly may have done that. He turned the corner and scampered down the hall directly into the master bedroom.

Now our king sized bed was situated in a way that Barbara's side was the longest distance from the service porch, and yet this is where he made himself known. In the middle of the night she screamed my name: "Rollie!" and threw the rat on me. It seems that she woke up with the rat walking through her hair. I guess it was worth screaming, but when she screamed my name, it made me feel that it was all my fault. Heads of household tend to get that feeling anyway. I think the kids were awakened, so I gathered the rat and returned him to his sleeping quarters, only to discover the huge hole in the corner of his box. But this time we had the sense to simply shut the door for the remainder of the night.

Barbara reminds me that in the morning Bobby was looking very guilty for the incident, since he had brought this guest into our home.

Killing my father-in-law

Okay, now that I have your attention, let me tell you another yarn from my memory banks. Barbara's father lived to see his 100th birthday, and he was a sharp witted enjoyable guy almost til the end. He got to ride horseback on his 98th birthday, but that is another story.

When he was a mere 96, we traveled east to see him. The family that lived across the street from our family (40 years ago now) had moved their parents to an elegant retirement community near Lancaster, PA. Combining the two visits seemed wise. Quarryville, where dad was living in retirement, is an excellent place to spend one's latter years. There were always alternate choices of cuisine, and the tables were set with fine plates, crystal goblets and cloth napkins. It was clean and comfortable. The place is populated with former ministers, their wives and assorted Presbyterian retirees. One of dad's table mates was the professor who wrote the Hebrew grammar from which I first learned the language. At another point in his long stay in Quarryville, he had a lady table mate who, with dad, did so much laughing at lunch that they were frequently asked to tone it down. He used to bring a page from his joke telling desk calendar for her to read, and they would giggle and guffaw like 4th graders.

It turns out that the dining hall at the other retirement place was a step higher in elegance than the beloved Quarryville. We had to show dad. Since our friends invited us all to dine with them, we took dad to taste for himself. But when we put him in the wheelchair and headed for the elevator, we were told that the elevator had stopped working. We were not to be thwarted, however, and decided to carefully maneuver the stairs with dad still in the chair. Now the caveat was this; I was still recovering from hip replacement surgery. My progress must have been a trifle slower than I thought. This was a short flight of stairs, because there was a landing after about 6 stairs before the stairwell doubled back to reach the next floor with another set of stairs. I carefully navigated the first stair, tilting the wheelchair back and taking one step at a time. The second stair also went without incident, but about the third stair I began to realize that I had tragically over-estimated my repaired hip, and by the time we hit the fourth stair something tragic was ominous. My footing was compromised, and the chair slipped from my hands.

To this day I can replay, in slow motion, the picture of my aged father in law tipping out of his chair, hands flailing in the air, and the chair crashing after him to the landing. What have I done!! I've killed my wife's father! No bones were protruding, no blood was evident, and he even was able to gain his feet soon after. But the remainder of our trek down the stairs, dad chose to take the stairs on his feet with a tight hold on the banister.

Later that evening, as we dined elegantly at the other home's buffet, dad made a joke about his son-in-law trying to kill him. It was at that point in the evening that I knew he was his old self, and had successfully survived my ostensible attempt on his life.

He's a good boy

Last week the whole nation was caught up in the grief filled aftermath of the 22 year old who shot so many people in Tucson. Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords took a bullet point blank that was a through and through of the head. An adorable nine year old girl was slain, and several others took bullets. I caught a quote from the boy's mother,"He's a good boy." Oh really? Forrest Gump might have said, "Good is what good does." But then I remembered one of the girls from the infamous Columbine high school shooting was quoted as saying she still believed in the basic goodness of mankind. It seemed to me that the press was all too quick to print this sentiment. It seems that the public forum always reaches for the ludicrous affirmation of the basic goodness of human nature when the ugliness of total depravity breaks forth in some obvious display.

The reason for this is that reality tends to shatter the basic religious convictions of the world. The basic goodness of man is one of those convictions. How can one stand to be a humanist, knowing that human nature is sinful. Jeremiah says the heart is deceitful and desperately wicked. If you believe that you have to abandon humanism as a religion. The alternate is to believe in biblical religion, and fallen men can never do that.

It is interesting to note that although this world likes to believe in the basic goodness of man, yet they also argue that this man is never perfectible. After all we are only animals, a few steps higher than other primates. If humans engage in a little sin it is interesting, exciting and excusable. But when this despicable behavior assaults other humans, the philosophers stutter and spit out the all but humorous mantra about the basic goodness of man.

They say that man is basically good, but never able to be perfect.

The Christian says that man is basically bad, but he is perfectible.

This is only to say that biblical truth matches reality as we experience it much better than the maxims of worldly religion. That man is made in the image of God explains the great potential for good things that we know to be in man. The fall of human nature into sinful rebellion against God explains the filthiness, violence and selfishness of people. The whole point of the gospel is that the soul who calls upon the name of the Lord shall be saved. Man is irreparably broken, and God alone is able to repair him. Jesus receives sinners--and changes them. So the Christian sees the coming of our Savior as the time when we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is. Man is perfectable, but God has to work this, and His promise is that He is doing it as we speak, and will complete the job when we see Jesus.