Showing posts with label quotes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label quotes. Show all posts

Friday, October 09, 2009

Quotes of the Day

Chuck Swindoll 10 Lifetime Leadership Lessons
"2) It’s dangerous to succeed. I’m most concerned for those who aren’t even 30 and are very gifted and successful. Sometimes God uses someone right out of youth, but usually he uses leaders who have been crushed.
6) Brokenness and failure are necessary."

I get the sense that I should be trying and failing more...

Interesting that 20-somethings and early 30-somethings (young, innovative entrepreneurs not tied down to tradition or family) have often been the ones succeeding in different ventures over the last ten years, even in Christendom.

British celebrity chef Jamie Oliver on men and women
“The key to life is to surround yourself with lots of women,” Oliver said. “Men would just lie to me. Girls say, ‘Give me half an hour and I’ll find out.’ They’re intelligent, more loyal and they make things happen. Everything I do is about team, really. So 90 percent of my team are women.”

Perhaps because men have a tendency to protect their fragile egos by pretending to know things rather than admitting they don't know and then getting things done?

Matt Moore on the Charlotte Bobcats and organizational makeovers
“The Bobcats are a playoff contender, and have been since Larry Brown decided to dump his best player (Jason Richardson) to Phoenix for jack-of-all-trades-master-of-awkward-spacing Boris Diaw and older than dirt Raja Bell. When that trade occurred, there was universal questioning of what in the carolina blue blazes Larry Brown was thinking. You don’t ditch your best player! But Brown understood a resounding principle of rebuilding/makeovers/reconfigurations. Whatever the core pillar is of the function that is not being successful, it is the first thing that must go."

Is this always true? Can a core pillar of one unsuccessful organization ever become a core pillar in a successful one?

Seth Godin on the Hierarchy of Success
"I think it looks like this:

Attitude
Approach
Goals
Strategy
Tactics
Execution

...

Tactics tell you what to execute. They're important, but dwarfed by strategy. Strategy determines which tactics might work.

But what's the point of a strategy if your goals aren't clear, or contradict?

Which leads the first two, the two we almost never hear about.

Approach determines how you look at the project (or your career). Do you read a lot of books? Ask a lot of questions? Use science and testing or go with your hunches? Are you imperious? A lifehacker? When was the last time you admitted an error and made a dramatic course correction? Most everyone has a style, and if you pick the wrong one, then all the strategy, tactics and execution in the world won't work nearly as well.

As far as I'm concerned, the most important of all, the top of the hierarchy is attitude. Why are you doing this at all? What's your bias in dealing with people and problems?"

When hiring, most organizations don't necessarily delve too much into the top two tiers of the hierarchy. I wonder if these can be measured in any way.

Shaun Groves on making celebrities of pastors
"I don’t want the Andies to love some speaker guy’s church so much that they stop loving their own. How many guys have developed ulcers and butchered community by trying to create the church they want to lead out of the church they have been given to lead?"

I guilty of the tendency to "celebritize" well-known leaders as well.

Saturday, January 05, 2008

Jonathan Edwards' Resolutions

Got this in a email devotional and thought it might be applicable for anyone looking for some spiritually-focused resolutions to make for the new year:

He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. (Micah 6:8, NIV)

From the Works of Jonathan Edwards (1703-1758), Vol. 1:

Being sensible that I am unable to do anything without God's help, I do humbly entreat Him, by His grace, to enable me to keep these Resolutions, so far as they are agreeable to His will, for Christ's sake.

[I will] remember to read over these Resolutions once a week:

1. Resolved, That I will do whatsoever I think to be most to the glory of God, and my own good, profit, and pleasure, in the whole of my duration; without any consideration of the time, whether now, or never so many myriads of ages hence.

2. Resolved, To do whatever I think to be my duty, and most for the good and advantage of mankind in general.

3. Resolved, Never to lose one moment of time, but to improve it in the most profitable way I possibly can.

4. Resolved, To live with all my might, while I do live.

5. Resolved, Never to do anything, which I should be afraid to do if it were the last hour of my life.

6. Resolved, Never to do anything out of revenge.

7. Resolved, Never to speak evil of any one, so that it shall tend to his dishonour, more or less, upon no account except for some real good.

8. Resolved, To study the Scriptures so steadily, constantly, and frequently, as that I may find, and plainly perceive, myself to grow in the knowledge of the same.

9. Resolved, Never to count that a prayer, nor to let that pass as a prayer, nor that as a petition of a prayer, which is so made, that I cannot hope that God will answer it; nor that as a confession which I cannot hope God will accept.

10. Resolved, To ask myself, at the end of every day, week, month, and year, wherein I could possibly, in any respect, have done better.

11. Resolved, Never to give over, nor in the least to slacken, my fight with my corruptions, however unsuccessful I may be.

12. Resolved, After afflictions, to inquire, what I am the better for them; what good I have got by them, and what I might have got by them.

13. Resolved, Always to do that which I shall wish I had done when I see others do it.

14. Let there be something of benevolence in all that I speak.

Monday, November 26, 2007

On compassion and jusice

Thought-provoking quote on the difference between compassion and justice from David Crowder's interview with Christianity Today:

Do you worry that popular culture sometimes presents a social cause as a popular trend to ride?

Crowder: That's another difficult thing about this move for social change with so many people's involvement—immediately I get cynical. Down the road, when you see all the marketing dollars spent in the (RED) campaign and other programs, callousness starts to build up. When American Idol goes to Africa to raise awareness, it raises red flags for some of us, [though good is still accomplished].

It's important to remember that there is a big difference between compassion and justice. Compassion would be like seeing someone drowning in a river and automatically you grab that person and save him. But as you stand there, you see more and more people coming down the river drowning and you just keep pulling them out. Justice is when a person goes up the river to find the source of problem, to find out why these people are in the river in the first place. They take what they see in front of them—people drowning in the river—and their feet start moving. They acquire knowledge in process, and move from compassion to justice. We still need people downstream pulling people out, but we also need someone to get to the source of things too.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

The Simpsons

Over the last 15 years or so, the comedic material that has most shaped my sense of humor includes Friends, Seinfeld, and Calvin & Hobbes. Perhaps the most consistent source of laughs and quotes, however, has been The Simpsons. I'm still amazed that the show is still going, nearly 20 years after its inception - I've been watching it longer than most of today's high schoolers have been alive. Although it isn't as funny in recent seasons as it was in the first half of its lifetime, the recently released movie has a pretty good mix of the highbrow and lowbrow humor that characterized the early seasons. Even though the movie played like an extended episode, there are still plenty of quotes that I'll be adding to my lexicon. For example (mouse over to read):

Homer Simpson: [after being trapped in the dome] D'OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHME!

Montgomery Burns: Smithers... I've never believed in suicide, but... it might cheer me up to watch you do it.

EPA Official: You've gone mad with power!
Russ Cargill: Of course I've gone mad with power! Have you ever tried going mad without power? It's boring and no one listens to you!

Homer Simpson: [singing Tune to Spider-Man Theme Song] Spider-Pig, Spider-Pig. / Does whatever a Spider-Pig does. / Can he swing / from a web? / No he *can't*, / cause he's a pig. / Look out! / He is the Spider-Pig!

President Schwarzenegger: I was elected to *lead*, not to *read*.

Bart Simpson: [crying of embarrassment, seen naked] This is the worst day of my life!
Homer Simpson: The worst day of your life *so far*.

Lisa Simpson: But I'm so angry.
Marge Simpson: You're a woman. Just hold on to it forever.


And, just for kicks, some of my favorite quotes from the series itself (culled from this list and this comprehensive site:

Homer: Are you saying you're never going to eat any animal again? What about bacon?
Lisa: No.
Homer: Ham?
Lisa: No.
Homer: Pork chops?
Lisa: Dad, those all come from the same animal.
Homer: Heh heh heh. Ooh, yeah, right, Lisa. A wonderful, magical animal.

Ralph: Hi, Super Nintendo Chalmers!

Ralph: Me fail English? That's unpossible.

Homer: Aw, twenty dollars! I wanted a peanut!
Homer's Brain: Twenty dollars can buy many peanuts!
Homer: Explain how!
Homer's Brain: Money can be exchanged for goods and services!
Homer: Woo-hoo!

Homer: Kids, you tried your best and you failed miserably. The lesson is, never try. (used in my sermon)

Homer: Here's to alcohol, the cause of—and solution to—all life's problems.

Burns: I suggest you leave immediately
Homer: Or what? You'll release the dogs or the bees? Or the dogs with bees in their mouths and when they bark they shoot bees at you?

Ralph: My cat's breath smells like cat food.

Homer's Brain: Use reverse psychology.
Homer: Oh, that sounds too complicated.
Homer's Brain: Okay, don't use reverse psychology.
Homer: Okay, I will!

Billy Corgan: "Billy Corgan, 'Smashing Pumpkins'."
Homer Simpson: "Homer Simpson, smiling politely."

Leonard Nimoy: Hello. I'm Leonard Nimoy. The following tale of alien encounters is true. And by true, I mean false. It's all lies. But they're entertaining lies. And in the end, isn't that the real truth? The answer is: No.

Trent: [walking up] The man knows what he likes.
Homer: Just taking care of business.
Trent: If you don't, who will, huh? Trent Steele.
Homer: Homer Si ... uh, Max Power.
Trent: Oh, hey! Great name!
Homer: Yeah, isn't it? I got it off a hair dryer.
Trent: [laughs] I like a man who can poke fun at himself. [looks at his watch] Ooh, hey, my one o'clock cancelled. Eh, you had any lunch?
Homer: Yeah, but I usually have three or four.
Trent: So where to eat? You like Thai?
Homer: Tie good. You like shirt?

Mr. Burns: I'll keep it short and sweet -- Family. Religion. Friendship. These are the three demons you must slay if you wish to succeed in business.

Homer: When I held that gun in my hand, I felt a surge of power ... like God must feel when he's holding a gun.

Homer: Getting out of jury duty is easy. The trick is to say you're prejudiced against all races.

Homer: You don't like your job, you don't strike. You go in every day and do it really half-assed. That's the American way.

Homer: All normal people love meat. If I went to a barbeque and there was no meat, I would say 'Yo Goober! Where's the meat!?'. I'm trying to impress people here Lisa. You don't win friends with salad.

Homer: I am so smart! I am so smart! S-M-R-T! I mean S-M-A-R-T...

Bart: Go orange!
Nelson: Go grapefruit!
Ralph: Go Banana!

Audience: Boo! Boo!
Burns: Smithers...are they booing me?
Smithers: Uh, no, they're saying "Boo-urns! Boo-urns!"
Burns: Are you saying "boo" or "Boo-urns"?
Audience: Boo! Boo!
Hans: I was saying "Boo-urns"...

Homer at the post office trying to steal Burns’ mail whilst wearing a moustache (and possibly a monocle i don’t recall)
Homer: Hello there, my name is Mr. Burns, i believe you have a letter for me?
Post Office Guy: Okay Mr. Burns, what is your first name?
Homer: I... don’t know

Rod Flanders: Lies make Baby Jesus cry.

Homer: “Mmmmm….Pistol Whip.”

Flanders: Feels like I'm wearing... nothing at all! Nothing at all! NOTHING AT ALL!
Homer: Argh, stupid sexy Flanders!

Ralph: So the doctor said I wouldn't have so many nosebleeds if I could just keep my finger out of there.

Willie: Bonjourrrrr, yah cheese-eatin’ surrender monkeys!

Homer: Save me, Jeebus!

Chief Wiggum: Fat Tony is a cancer on this fair city! He is the cancer and I am the…uh…what cures cancer?

Sideshow Bob: You want the truth! You can't handle the truth! No truth handler you! Bah! I deride your truth handling abilities!

Saturday, May 26, 2007

On beauty

Two good posts recently on the beauty of God's creation and how every person is created to experience it in the very core of our being. Worth reading both of them in their entireties at the links below.

Excerpt from singer-songwriter Shaun Groves:
Here in this frozen sanctuary, mountains for walls, frothy silver clouds for ceiling, I’m stunned by the scope of creation outside the cul-de-sac. I’m happy. Not because of where I am but because being here I’m more aware than usual of everything good and beautiful in the world. Why does nature do that to some of us? Why don’t I make more time to walk in it? Some saint once said that if he looked at creation long enough God looked back.

And this morning He’s talking back too.

Here in all this perfect beauty a man is on the stage making liberal use of words like “imperfect”, “wicked”, “depraved”, and “sinful”. The paradox isn’t lost on me. There’s something, for me, about the collision of beauty and busted that grabs my heart and mind with both hands and demands their attention. The contrast is brutal. But the beauty also works to console and inspire me, to make me long for and realize what God is making of me: beauty.

Excerpt from Maria:

Other experiences that often move me to aesthetic pleasure: listening to a beautiful song, feeling its soul-thrilling melody bring inexplicable delight and joy; reading something well-written, enjoying each well-turned phrase and felicitous expression; seeing beautiful colors in nature (flowers) or man-made (clothing, shoes, purses, art), relishing in the bright hues, the intensity of shade, the suppleness of texture. There's something refreshing and restful about these simple pleasures.

Weekly Musings

Some thoughts from the week...

TV finales

A lackluster season of 24 ended not with a bang, but with a whimper. But at least they've acknowledged that they can't just plug different variables into the same formula and come back with the next season - I fully expect CTU to be retired (Bill tp Nadia: "Jack's not coming back. Let him go"). I'm kinda disappointed because this season started with great promise in the first 4 hours. Instead of dwelling on what went wrong, here's a list of what I thought was good about season 6 (spoilers for folks who want to watch on DVD):

Jack in the 1st 4 hours - he seemed to be a broken man after his 2 years of torture. Unfortunately they brought back "the old Jack" far too quickly - it would have been fascinating to see him continue with that vulnerability.
Assad - a unique character that was killed off far too soon. Plus, according to the gf, he was the best-looking guy on the show.
Tom Lennox - great acting, did slimy, principled, and cutthroat all very well.
... and that's about it.

Lost ended much better. It may have re-hooked me into the next few seasons as they finish up the story. Who would win if Sayid had to take on Jack Bauer? God forbid that they ever team up on anything.

The NBA and red meat

My carrot analogy with regard to the Warriors making the playoffs is apparently not a unique one:
From the Sports Guy, when the Celtics missed out on picking up either Oden or Durant in the NBA lottery:
You can't even fathom the pain. Everyone believes Celtics fans get a free pass with this stuff because we won 16 titles in 30 years. Actually, it's the opposite. Long-suffering fans of perennial losers don't know what they're missing. After all, how would they know? You can't miss steak if you've never eaten steak, right? But if you're fortunate enough to follow a perennially successful franchise, then that same franchise starts decomposing right in front of you ... what then?


Annoyance of the week
Eating a stalk of broccoli early in the week, I literally bit off a bit more than I could chew. I had to stretch my mouth so wide to get around the mouthful that when I bit down, I ended up scraping a flap of tissue off my inside cheek that's just kinda been hanging there since. Every so often when I chew on the left side of my mouth, I'll end up gnawing on that little piece of flesh.

Video of the week
Passed along by Shally: "The Machine is Us/ing Us"
About 5 minutes, worth watching all the way through - good, concise commentary on the direction of the Internet (currently aka Web 2.0):



Disturbingly amusing story of the week
Joy's story at our CG free week about her dream where her bf Mike tried to kill her with a knife, and actually stuck her in the leg before being subdued by two other random guys from Canaan. This sparked a conversation about common dreams that we'd had before. Apparently, women in relationships will often dream of their husband/boyfriend cheating on them. Me, I usually end up as a martyr in mine... as I mentioned back in January.

Music of the week
Listened primarily to Stanfurd's acapella group Testimony this week. Love the way they use various vocal sounds to mimic guitars and other instruments. You can hear some song clips here, here, and here.

Christian thought of the week
Started reading My Utmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers online this week. Good excerpt in 5/21's entry:
When we look at these words of Jesus, we immediately find them to be the most revolutionary that human ears have ever heard. ". . . seek first the kingdom of God . . . ." Even the most spiritually-minded of us argue the exact opposite, saying, "But I must live; I must make a certain amount of money; I must be clothed; I must be fed." The great concern of our lives is not the kingdom of God but how we are going to take care of ourselves to live. Jesus reversed the order by telling us to get the right relationship with God first, maintaining it as the primary concern of our lives, and never to place our concern on taking care of the other things of life.

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

Dreams

I flipped through the stapled stacks of papers, slowly at first, then faster and faster. A grin grew on my face as I saw numerous top-notch scores circled atop various people's exams. The final exam had been rather easy, after all. I saw my name at the top of the page, and pulled out my exam. My good mood disappeared and my face fell as I saw the large "D-" circled in red smack dab in the middle, and I felt helpless.

Have you ever had a dream like this before? I've had variations on this almost all my life... the real thing a few times, too, in a few EE classes at Cal (I wasn't cut out to handle circuits at all). I've also had recurring dreams of being chased by guys with guns, and sometimes by raptors. Check out the HowStuffWorks article on dreams for some additional info on common types of dreams and their interpretations, such as:

Being naked in public - had this
Most of us have had the dream at some point that we're at school, work or some social event, and we suddenly realize we forgot to put on clothes! Experts say this means:

o We're trying to hide something (and without clothes we have a hard time doing that).
o We're not prepared for something, like a presentation or test (and now everyone is going to know -- we're exposed!).

If we're naked but no one notices, then the interpretation is that whatever we're afraid of is unfounded. If we don't care that we're naked, the interpretation is that we're comfortable with who we are.

Falling - had this
You're falling, falling, falling... and then you wake up. This is a very common dream and is said to symbolize insecurities and anxiety. Something in your life is essentially out of control and there is nothing you can do to stop it. Another interpretation is that you have a sense of failure about something. Maybe you're not doing well in school or at work and are afraid you're going to be fired or expelled. Again, you feel that you can't control the situation.

Being chased - yup, this too
The ever-popular chase dream can be extremely frightening. What it usually symbolizes is that you're running away from your problems. What that problem is depends on who is chasing you. It may be a problem at work, or it may be something about yourself that you know is destructive. For example, you may be drinking too much, and your dream may be telling you that your drinking is becoming a real problem.

Taking an exam (or forgetting that you have one) - dreamed this one most recently
This is another very common dream. You suddenly realize you are supposed to be taking an exam at that very moment. You might be running through the hallways and can't find the classroom. This type of dream can have several variations that have similar meanings. (Maybe your pen won't write, so you can't finish writing your answers.) What experts say this may mean is that you're being scrutinized about something or feel you're being tested -- maybe you're facing a challenge you don't think you're up to. You don't feel prepared or able to hold up to the scrutiny. It may also mean there is something you've neglected that you know needs your attention.

Flying - not so much
Many flying dreams are the result of lucid dreaming. Not all flying dreams are, however. Typically, dreaming that you are flying means you are on top of things. You are in control of the things that matter to you. Or, maybe you've just gained a new perspective on things. It may also mean you are strong willed and feel like no one and nothing can defeat you. If you are having problems maintaining your flight, someone or something may be standing in the way of you having control. If you are afraid while flying, you may have challenges that you don't feel up to.

Running, but going nowhere - rarely, but sounds familiar
This theme can also be part of the chasing dream. You're trying to run, but either your legs won't move or you simply aren't going anywhere -- as if you were on a treadmill. According to some, this dream means you have too much on your plate. You're trying to do too many things at once and can't catch up or ever get ahead.

Your teeth falling out - nope, don't think I had this one
Many people have dreams that they lose all of their teeth. In this dream, they may feel something strange in their mouth and then spit teeth into their hand, eventually losing all of their teeth. According to some, our teeth are related to our sense of power and our ability to communicate. Losing our teeth not only makes us embarrassed by our appearance, which hinders our communications, but it also lessens our power because we may not speak our minds. It's also associated with feelings about our appearance.

In addition, I think I've had some "premonition dreams" where I dreamed something completely mundane, like a conversation among friends, but then at some point in the future it actually happens. Like, I'll be in a group discussion, and all of a sudden I'll get a sense of deja vu, and just know who is going to be the next person to talk and what they're gonna say. Unfortunately, it's always been about boring stuff.

I've also had my share of "hero dreams", like infiltrating the hotel in the original Die Hard movie to save hostages. Unfortunately, most of my hero dreams end with me dying... maybe I have some kind of martyr complex.

Thursday, December 21, 2006

Incarnation

by Paul Harvey

The angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy..." (Luke 2:10, NIV)

You know the Christmas story, the story of God born as a man in a manger and all that, escapes some moderns. Mostly I think because they seek complex answers to their questions and this one is so utterly simple.

So, for the cynic, and the skeptic, and the unconvinced, I submit a modern parable.

The man to whom I'm going to introduce you was not a scrooge. He was a kind, decent, mostly good man, generous to his family, upright with his dealings with other men, but he just didn't believe all that incarnation stuff which the churches proclaim at Christmas time.

It just didn't make sense and he was too honest to pretend otherwise.

He just couldn't swallow the Jesus story about God coming to earth as a man. He told his wife, "I'm truly sorry to distress you, but I'm not going to church with you this Christmas Eve." He said he'd feel like a hypocrite, that he'd much rather stay at home, but that he would wait up for them. And so, he stayed home and they went to the midnight service.

Shortly after the family drove away in the car, snow began to fall. He went to the window to watch the flurries getting heavier and heavier, and then went back to his fireside chair, and began to read his newspaper.

Minutes later he was startled by a thudding sound, then another, and then another, sort of a thump or a thud.

At first he thought someone must be throwing snowballs against his living room window. But when he went to the front door to investigate, he found a flock of birds, huddled miserably in the snow.

They'd been caught in the storm, and in a desperate search for shelter had tried to fly through his large landscape window.

Well, he couldn't let the poor creatures lie there and freeze, so he remembered the barn where his children stabled their pony. That would provide a warm shelter if he could direct the birds to it.

Hurriedly, he put on a coat and galoshes, tramped through the deepening snow to the barn. He opened the door wide and turned on a light.

But the birds did not come in.

He figured food would entice them in, so he hurried back to the house, fetched bread crumbs, sprinkled them on the snow, making a trail to the yellow lighted wide-open doorway of the stable.

But, to his dismay, the birds ignored the breadcrumbs and continued to flop around helplessly in the snow.

He tried catching them; he tried shooing them into the barn by walking around them, waving his arms. Instead, they scattered in every direction except into the warm, lighted barn.

And then he realized that they were afraid of him. He resigned himself, "To them, I am a strange and terrifying creature. If only I could think of some way to let them know that they can trust me, that I'm not trying to hurt them, to help them. But how?"

Because any move that he made tended to frighten them, confuse them. They just would not be led or shooed, because they feared him.

"If only I could be a bird," he thought to himself, "And mingle with them, and speak their language. Then I could tell them not to be afraid. Then I could show them the way to the safe, warm barn."

"But I would have to be one of them so they could see, and hear and understand."

At that moment the church bells began to ring. The sound reached his ears above the sounds of the wind, and he stood there listening to the bells, listening to the bells heralding the glad tidings of Our Savior's birth, and he sank to his knees in the snow.

Monday, December 04, 2006

Amusing "creative" writing assignment

From here. Gary's parts look like something I would write...

Prof. Miller's In-class Assignment for Wednesday
Remember the book "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus"? "Well, today we will experiment with a new form called the 'tandem story'. The process is simple. Each person will pair off with the person sitting to his or her immediate right. As homework tonight, one of you will write the first paragraph of a short story. You will e-mail your partner that paragraph and send another copy to me. The partner will read the first paragraph and then add another paragraph to the story and send it back also sending another copy to me. The first person will then add a third paragraph, and so on back and forth. Remember to re-read what has been written each time in order to keep the story coherent. There is to be absolutely NO talking outside of the e-mails and anything you wish to say must be written in the e-mail. The story is over when both agree a conclusion has been reached."
The following was actually turned in by two of my English students: Rebecca (last name deleted), and Gary (last name deleted).

THE STORY:
(first paragraph by Rebecca) At first, Laurie couldn't decide which kind of tea she wanted. The chamomile, which used to be her favorite for lazy evenings at home, now reminded her too much of Carl, who once said, in happier times, that he liked chamomile. But she felt she must now, at all costs, keep her mind off Carl. His possessiveness was suffocating, and if she thought about him too much her asthma started acting up again. So chamomile was out of the question.

(second paragraph by Gary) Meanwhile, Advance Sergeant Carl Harris, leader of the attack squadron now in orbit over Skylon 4, had more important things to think about than the neuroses of an air-headed asthmatic bimbo named Laurie with whom he had spent one sweaty night over a year ago. "A.S. Harris to Geostation 17,....", he said into his transgalactic communicator. "Polar orbit established. No sign of resistance so far..." But before he could sign off a bluish particle beam flashed out of nowhere and blasted a hole through his ship's cargo bay. The jolt from the direct hit sent him flying out of his seat and across the cockpit.

(Rebecca) He bumped his head and died almost immediately, but not before he felt one last pang of regret for psychically brutalizing the one woman who had ever had feelings for him. Soon afterwards, Earth stopped its pointless hostilities towards the peaceful farmers of Skylon 4. "Congress Passes Law Permanently Abolishing War and Space Travel," Laurie read in her newspaper one morning. The news simultaneously excited her and bored her. She stared out the window, dreaming of her youth, when the days had passed unhurriedly and carefree, with no newspapers to read, no television to distract her from her sense of innocent wonder at all the beautiful things around her. "Why must one lose one's innocence to become a woman?" she pondered wistfully.

(Gary) Little did she know, but she had less than 10 seconds to live. Thousands of miles above the city, the Anu'udrian mothership launched the first of its lithium fusion missiles. The dim-witted wimpy peaceniks who pushed the Unilateral Aerospace Disarmament Treaty through the congress had left Earth a defenseless target for the hostile alien empires who were determined to destroy the human race. Within two hours after the passage of the treaty the Anu'udrian ships were on course for Earth, carrying enough firepower to pulverize the entire planet. With no one to stop them, they swiftly initiated their diabolical plan. The lithium fusion missile entered the atmosphere unimpeded. The President, in his top-secret Mobile submarine headquarters on the ocean floor off the coast of Guam, felt the inconceivably massive explosion, which vaporized poor, stupid, Laurie and 85 million other Americans. The President slammed his fist on the conference table. "We can't allow this! I'm going to veto that treaty! Let's blow 'em out of the sky!"

(Rebecca) This is absurd. I refuse to continue this mockery of literature. My writing partner is a violent, chauvinistic semi-literate adolescent.

(Gary) Yeah? Well, you're a self-centered tedious neurotic whose attempts at writing are the literary equivalent of Valium. "Oh shall I have chamomile tea? Or shall I have some other sort of f*****g TEA??? Oh no, I'm such an air headed bimbo who reads too many Danielle Steele novels."

(Rebecca) @#$(*&.

(Gary) !$#@%%.

(TEACHER) A+ - I really liked this one. Only group to get an A

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Wednesday funnies

Couple of chuckles to get you through the middle of the week...

Now that's deadpan
Starting out this post:

Like the marginal American Christians we are, we and our friends and all our marginally Christian offspring walked house to house in our neighborhood last night, paying tribute to the Prince of Darkness and all his minions. Apparently we'll do anything for candy.


Math brilliance





Caption contest
"Um... just keep reading the teleprompter, just keep reading, find razor to shave my mustache off at the commercial..."



He picked who?

Edited to add this little nugget, from Saturday's fantasy draft (only NBA hoopheads will get this one, probably):

[Team Owner A] drafts Shawne Williams (Ind)
[Blindmen] ...
[Team Owner A] oh crap
[Team Owner A] drafts Shelden Williams (Atl)

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

Hermeneutics applied to a STOP sign

While I don't condone the general stance of the site hosting this list, this is a pretty clever illustration of different types of hermeneutics, copied and pasted from here:

1. A post modernist deconstructs the sign by knocking it over with his car, and thus ends the tyranny of the north-south traffic over the east-west traffic.

2. The Marxist refuses to stop because she sees the stop sign as an instrument of class conflict, since the bourgeois use the north-south route and obstruct the proletariat moving east-west.

3. A serious and educated Catholic rolls through the intersection because he believes he cannot understand the stop sign apart from its interpretive community and tradition. Observing that the interpretive community doesn't take it too seriously, he doesn't feel obligated to take it too seriously either.

4. Average Catholics and mainline denominationalists don't bother to read the sign but will stop if the car in front does.

5. A fundamentalist, taking the text very literally, stops at the stop sign and waits for it to tell her to go.

6. A seminary educated evangelical preacher will research the meaning of "STOP" and discover that the word indicates something which prevents motion (i.e. plug for drain) or a location to leave passengers. The lesson is that STOP signs indicate clogged traffic, so it's a good place to drop riders.

7. An orthodox Jew takes routes devoid of stops to eliminate the risk of disobeying the Law.

8. A scholar from the Jesus Seminar concludes that the passage "STOP" was never uttered by Jesus, since he would not stifle peoples' progress. So, STOP is a textual insertion from stage III of the gospel tradition, when the church was first confronted by traffic in its parking lot.

9. A New Testament scholar notices that there is no stop sign on Mark street but there is one on Matthew and Luke streets, and concludes that the ones on Luke and Matthew streets are both copied from a sign on a street no one has ever seen called "Q" street. Extensive research has been done on the differences between stop signs on Matthew and Luke streets, but nothing to explain the meaning of the text.

10. An Old Testament scholar points out that there are a number of stylistic differences between the first and second half of the STOP. The "ST" contains no enclosed areas and five line endings, whereas "OP" contains two enclosed areas and only one line termination. He concludes that the author for the second part is different from the author on the first part and probably lived hundreds of years later. Other scholars determine that the second half is itself actually written by two separate authors because of similar stylistic differences between the "O" and the "P."

11. Another OT scholar notes that the stop sign would fit better into the context three streets back, having been moved to its present location by a later redactor. He thus exegetes the intersection as though the sign were not there.

12. Yet another OT scholar amends the text, changing the "T" to "H". The resulting SHOP is much easier to understand in context than "STOP" because of the multiplicity of stores in the area. The textual corruption is easily explained as a form geschichte alteration. Thus, the sign announces the existence of a shopping area. If this is true, it could indicate that both meanings are valid, thus making the message "STOP & SHOP."

13. A "prophetic" preacher notices that the square root of the sum of the numeric representations of the letters S-T-O-P (sigma-tau-omicron-pi in Greek), multiplied by 40 (the number of testing), and divided by 4 (the four corners) equals 666, the dreaded "mark of the beast." All STOPS are therefore satanic.

Thursday, July 27, 2006

Best graffiti ever

A former Cal grad told me about the best graffiti he's ever seen, found in a bathroom at LeConte Hall on the Berkeley campus (for the uninitiated, LeConte is the physics building):

Heisenberg may have been here.

Thursday, April 27, 2006

That about sums it up

A quote from Steven Covey, author of The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People:

My goal in life is to be the kind of person my dog thinks I am.

Sunday, April 16, 2006

"Daughter of Jerusalem" excerpt

by Thom Lemmons, excerpts from Heartlight Ministries

None of them had slept well since the day before the Passover Sabbath. At any moment, they expected to hear the sounds of Annas' henchmen coming up the steps to arrest them all. The times Mary did manage to drift into a fitful slumber she was wrenched awake by frightful images of Jesus on the cross. It would have been bad enough if they had been nightmares, but this was much worse. Waking brought no relief.

Simon Peter wore a hollow, blasted look. During that first night, Mary heard muffled, wet sobs coming from his huddled form. Andrew appeared torn between shock at Jesus' violent death and worry for his older brother's sanity. No one spoke aloud the name of Judas of Kerioth. It was just as well he hadn't been seen since the night of the arrest. Likely, The Zealot would have slain him on sight.

But hardest for Mary was the broken, listless figure of his mother. Mary of Nazareth crouched against the wall of the room and rocked slowly from side to side, a low moan coming from the back of her throat. Now and then, Mary heard her muttering snatches of words. Once, when she was trying to get Mary of Nazareth to drink some water, the other woman looked at her with a strange, disconnected expression. Through parched lips Jesus' mother mumbled, "Behold, the handmaiden of the Lord."

Mary woke and looked around in the darkness. No one else was moving; the sighs and even breath of sleep were the only sounds. She sat up and looked out the window over her sleeping place. She could still see stars through the lattices, but surely dawn was approaching.

She wasn't sure of the source of the fresh linen and embalming spices. Maybe Ruth and Lycia had the foresight to procure them on the day of the execution. She knelt and gathered into her arms as much as she could carry of the linen, aloes, myrrh, and other spices, then rose and picked her way carefully toward the door.

She walked north through the dim streets. No one was about. She thought about what she was going to do when she reached the tomb. In a way, there was a sort of pathetic uselessness about anointing a dead body. As if the sweet-smelling spices could restrain the inevitable rot. As if the white linen could purify or negate the corruption.

Three gaunt street mongrels snuffled greedily through a pile of offal near the Gennath Gate. As Mary neared, their heads jerked up. They watched her for an instant, then scurried away. Mary reached the place the dogs had been and looked down at the object of their attentions. The remains of someone's Seder meal - burnt bones with a few scraps of meat and cartilage still clinging to them, fragments of a stale loaf of matzah, a scattering of now-rancid barley, a smear of something that might have been boiled fruit - the whole now mingled in the curs' paw prints with the dirt and filth of the street. Mary could see the dogs in the shadows, licking their teeth and waiting for her to move on. She turned to go and her eye fell upon a crack in the stone near the gate, maybe a palm-width above the ground. A tiny sprig protruded from the crack, the first tendril of a myrtle bush, from the shape of the few leaves. Mary bent down for a closer look at the plant. How long could it grow here? How large would it have to get before someone noticed it and yanked it out by the roots? Behind her, one of the hungry dogs whined softly. She rose and hurried through the gate.

The gray in the eastern sky had spread into a pink glow by this time. Mary left the road for the stony path that wound around the shoulder of Golgotha toward the garden-tombs. Through the gap in the boundary wall of whitewashed stones she went.

Mary knew they couldn't have done a thorough preparation for the burial; they hadn't taken enough time. They had probably tossed a few handfuls of myrrh across his unwrapped body, then hurriedly bound him in a sheet. Maybe they'd taken long enough to wrap his head separately, maybe not. They were more worried about the beginning of the Sabbath than they were about paying proper respects, as their masters had commanded them. She remembered watching them scurry from the tomb, glancing nervously over their shoulders at the western horizon as the guards grunted the heavy door-stone into place.

The stone! Mary took a quick breath in dismay. How could she have forgotten? She would never be able to move the stone herself. She leaned into the path up the side of the hill. As she neared the clearing in front of the tomb, she slowed, then stopped. She crouched behind a bush and slowly pulled aside a branch, trying to see without being seen.

The open, black mouth of the burial place gaped at her. Pilate's guards were nowhere to be seen. Mary crossed the clearing in a daze, and the bundle of linen and spices fell to the ground unheeded. The air inside the tomb was flat and cool against her cheek. She braced herself for the stench of the corpse, but detected only a faint breath of myrrh. She bent to crawl through the narrow passage from the front chamber into the crypt. Enough light trickled from outside for her to see the half-dome cut into the rock of the wall facing her, and the empty shelf beneath it.

She stumbled outside and heard footsteps climbing the path. Joanna, Jesus' mother, Libnah, Salome, Lycia, and Ruth pushed their way through the myrtle boughs.

"He isn't in here!" she called to them. "I've been inside, and there's nothing there." The women turned and hurried back down the path.

A sudden spasm of despair choked Mary. She was denied even this final, insufficient gesture. She would never be able to touch his dead face, to hold it in her hands and whisper her gratitude, her grief, her confusion, her inconsolable emptiness. She crumpled to the ground.

After a time, Mary felt a touch on her shoulder and managed to lift her head enough to look. Two figures stood on either side of the tomb's entrance, like pillars of blazing light. "Why do you weep?" they asked.

"They've taken away the Teacher and I don't know where they've hidden him."

Then, a shadow passed over the two beings, and to Mary it appeared as if they bowed their faces toward the ground. She was conscious of a presence behind her. She got to her feet and turned around to see another man.

"Woman, why are you crying?" he asked.

With her sleeve, Mary tried to wipe away the tears and grime on her face. "Sir, if you've moved the body of Jesus of Nazareth," she said, "please tell me where it is and my friends and I will take care of it."

The man said a single word, and the entire world around her froze into motionless silence.

"Mary."

There could be no mistaking that voice. The same voice that had entered her with power on the road to Capernaum, casting out the darkness that choked her soul. The same voice that had spoken to her in the hidden place among the hills above Lake Tiberius, loving her with a palpable love, yet not permitting her to offer the only intimacy she understood. The same voice that spoke puzzling, hard words to the crowd of zealots: the same voice that beckoned the dead daughter of Jairus back to life -- the same voice that spoke of temples destroyed and rebuilt in three days.

In three days.

Mary tried to walk toward him, but her legs gave way beneath her. She crawled forward until she could grasp his ankles, until she could kiss his feet and smell on his skin the strong, sweet scent of myrrh.

"Rabboni!" she wept, over and over. "Rabboni!"

She felt his hand on her shoulder, at once pushing her back and urging her to her feet. "Don't hold on to me, Mary. I must return to my Father."

She stood and raised her eyes to look at him, then held her face in her hands. How had she dared to touch him? How had she presumed to handle such holiness? Of course she could not hold onto him. He did not belong to her. She had no right.

"Go and tell my friends," he was saying. "Tell them I am going back to my Father and theirs, my God and theirs." He was smiling.

Mary spun about, propelled down the path by a burst of utter joy, and raced toward the road that led to the Gennath Gate.

Friday, April 14, 2006

A Physician Analyzes The Crucifixion

Dr. C. Truman Davis is a graduate of the University of Tennessee College of Medicine. He is a practicing ophthalmologist, a pastor, and author of a book about medicine and the Bible. From New Wine Magazine, April 1982. Originally published in Arizona Medicine, March 1965, Arizona Medical Association. For more articles about the crucifixion, click here and here.

Several years ago I became interested in the physical aspects of the passion, or suffering, of Jesus Christ when I read an account of the crucifixion in Jim Bishop's book, The Day Christ Died. I suddenly realized that I had taken the crucifixion more or less for granted all these years -- that I had grown callous to its horror by a too-easy familiarity with the grim details. It finally occurred to me that, as a physician, I did not even know the actual immediate cause of Christ's death. The gospel writers do not help much on this point. Since crucifixion and scourging were so common during their lifetimes, they undoubtedly considered a detailed description superfluous. For that reason we have only the concise words of the evangelists: "Pilate, having scourged Jesus, delivered Him to them to be crucified ... and they crucified Him."

Despite the gospel accounts' silence on the details of Christ's crucifixion, many have looked into this subject in the past. In my personal study of the event from a medical viewpoint, I am indebted especially to Dr. Pierre Barbet, a French surgeon who did exhaustive historical and experimental research and wrote extensively on the topic.

An attempt to examine the infinite psychic and spiritual suffering of the Incarnate God in atonement for the sins of fallen man is beyond the scope of this article. However, the physiological and anatomical aspects of our Lord's passion we can examine in some detail. What did the body of Jesus of Nazareth actually endure during those hours of torture?

Gethsemane
The physical passion of Christ began in Gethsemane. Of the many aspects of His initial suffering, the one which is of particular physiological interest is the bloody sweat. Interestingly enough, the physician, St. Luke, is the only evangelist to mention this occurrence. He says, "And being in an agony, he prayed the longer. And his sweat became as drops of blood, trickling down upon the ground" (Luke 22:44 KJV).

Every attempt imaginable has been used by modern scholars to explain away the phenomenon of bloody sweat, apparently under the mistaken impression that it simply does not occur. A great deal of effort could be saved by consulting the medical literature. Though very rare, the phenomenon of hematidrosis, or bloody sweat, is well documented. Under great emotional stress, tiny capillaries in the sweat glands can break, thus mixing blood with sweat. This process alone could have produced marked weakness and possible shock.

Although Jesus' betrayal and arrest are important portions of the passion story, the next event in the account which is significant from a medical perspective is His trial before the Sanhedrin and Caiaphas, the High Priest. Here the first physical trauma was inflicted. A soldier struck Jesus across the face for remaining silent when questioned by Caiaphas. The palace guards then blindfolded Him, mockingly taunted Him to identify them as each passed by, spat on Him, and struck Him in the face.

Before Pilate
In the early morning, battered and bruised, dehydrated, and worn out from a sleepless night, Jesus was taken across Jerusalem to the Praetorium of the Fortress Antonia, the seat of government of the Procurator of Judea, Pontius Pilate. We are familiar with Pilate's action in attempting to shift responsibility to Herod Antipas, the Tetrarch of Judea. Jesus apparently suffered no physical mistreatment at the hands of Herod and was returned to Pilate. It was then, in response to the outcry of the mob, that Pilate ordered Barabbas released and condemned Jesus to scourging and crucifixion.

Preparations for Jesus' scourging were carried out at Caesar's orders. The prisoner was stripped of His clothing and His hands tied to a post above His head. The Roman legionnaire stepped forward with the flagrum, or flagellum, in his hand. This was a short whip consisting of several heavy, leather thongs with two small balls of lead attached near the ends of each. The heavy whip was brought down with full force again and again across Jesus' shoulders, back, and legs. At first the weighted thongs cut through the skin only. Then, as the blows continued, they cut deeper into the subcutaneous tissues, producing first an oozing of blood from the capillaries and veins of the skin and finally spurting arterial bleeding from vessels in the underlying muscles.

The small balls of lead first produced large deep bruises that were broken open by subsequent blows. Finally, the skin of the back was hanging in long ribbons, and the entire area was an unrecognizable mass of torn, bleeding tissue. When it was determined by the centurion in charge that the prisoner was near death, the beating was finally stopped.

Mockery
The half-fainting Jesus was then untied and allowed to slump to the stone pavement, wet with his own blood. The Roman soldiers saw a great joke in this provincial Jew claiming to be a king. They threw a robe across His shoulders and placed a stick in His hand for a scepter. They still needed a crown to make their travesty complete. Small flexible branches covered with long thorns, commonly used for kindling fires in the charcoal braziers in the courtyard, were plaited into the shape of a crude crown. The crown was pressed into his scalp and again there was copious bleeding as the thorns pierced the very vascular tissue. After mocking Him and striking Him across the face, the soldiers took the stick from His hand and struck Him across the head, driving the thorns deeper into His scalp. Finally, they tired of their sadistic sport and tore the robe from His back. The robe had already become adherent to the clots of blood and serum in the wounds, and its removal, just as in the careless removal of a surgical bandage, caused excruciating pain. The wounds again began to bleed.

Golgotha
In deference to Jewish custom, the Romans apparently returned His garments. The heavy patibulum of the cross was tied across His shoulders. The procession of the condemned Christ, two thieves, and the execution detail of Roman soldiers headed by a centurion began its slow journey along the route which we know today as the Via Dolorosa.

In spite of Jesus' efforts to walk erect, the weight of the heavy wooden beam, together with the shock produced by copious loss of blood, was too much. He stumbled and fell. The rough wood of the beam gouged into the lacerated skin and muscles of the shoulders. He tried to rise, but human muscles had been pushed beyond their endurance. The centurion, anxious to proceed with the crucifixion, selected a stalwart North African onlooker, Simon of Cyrene, to carry the cross. Jesus followed, still bleeding and sweating the cold, clammy sweat of shock. The 650-yard journey from the Fortress Antonia to Golgotha was finally completed. The prisoner was again stripped of His clothing except for a loin cloth which was allowed the Jews.

The crucifixion began. Jesus was offered wine mixed with myrrh, a mild analgesic, pain-reliving mixture. He refused the drink. Simon was ordered to place the patibulum on the ground, and Jesus was quickly thrown backward, with His shoulders against the wood. The legionnaire felt for the depression at the front of the wrist. He drove a heavy, square wrought-iron nail through the wrist and deep into the wood. Quickly, he moved to the other side and repeated the action, being careful not to pull the arms too tightly, but to allow some flexion and movement. The patibulum was then lifted into place at the top of the stipes, and the titulus reading "Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews" was nailed into place.

The left foot was pressed backward against the right foot. With both feet extended, toes down, a nail was driven through the arch of each, leaving the knees moderately flexed. The victim was now crucified.

On the Cross
As Jesus slowly sagged down with more weight on the nails in the wrists, excruciating, fiery pain shot along the fingers and up the arms to explode in the brain. The nails in the wrists were putting pressure on the median nerve, large nerve trunks which traverse the mid-wrist and hand. As He pushed himself upward to avoid this stretching torment, He placed His full weight on the nail through His feet. Again there was searing agony as the nail tore through the nerves between the metatarsal bones of this feet.

At this point, another phenomenon occurred. As the arms fatigued, great waves of cramps swept over the muscles, knotting them in deep relentless, throbbing pain. With these cramps came the inability to push Himself upward. Hanging by the arm, the pectoral muscles, the large muscles of the chest, were paralyzed and the intercostal muscles, the small muscles between the ribs, were unable to act. Air could be drawn into the lungs, but could not be exhaled. Jesus fought to raise Himself in order to get even one short breath. Finally, the carbon dioxide level increased in the lungs and in the blood stream, and the cramps partially subsided.

The Last Words
Spasmodically, He was able to push Himself upward to exhale and bring in life-giving oxygen. It was undoubtedly during these periods that He uttered the seven short sentences that are recorded.

The first - looking down at the Roman soldiers throwing dice for His seamless garment: "Father, forgive them for they do not know what they do."

The second - to the penitent thief: "Today, thou shalt be with me in Paradise."

The third - looking down at Mary His mother, He said: "Woman, behold your son." Then turning to the terrified, grief-stricken adolescent John, the beloved apostle, He said: "Behold your mother."

The fourth cry is from the beginning of Psalm 22: "My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?"

He suffered hours of limitless pain, cycles of twisting, joint-rending cramps, intermittent partial asphyxiation, and searing pain as tissue was torn from His lacerated back from His movement up and down against the rough timbers of the cross. Then another agony began: a deep crushing pain in the chest as the pericardium, the sac surrounding the heart, slowly filled with serum and began to compress the heart.

The prophecy in Psalm 22:14 was being fulfilled: "I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint, my heart is like wax; it is melted in the midst of my bowels."

The end was rapidly approaching. The loss of tissue fluids had reached a critical level; the compressed heart was struggling to pump heavy, thick, sluggish blood to the tissues, and the tortured lungs were making a frantic effort to inhale small gulps of air. The markedly dehydrated tissues sent their flood of stimuli to the brain. Jesus gasped His fifth cry: "I thirst." Again we read in the prophetic psalm: "My strength is dried up like a potsherd; my tongue cleaveth to my jaws; and thou has brought me into the dust of death" (Psalm 22:15 KJV).

A sponge soaked in posca, the cheap, sour wine that was the staple drink of the Roman legionnaires, was lifted to Jesus' lips. His body was now in extremis, and He could feel the chill of death creeping through His tissues. This realization brought forth His sixth word, possibly little more than a tortured whisper: "It is finished." His mission of atonement had been completed. Finally, He could allow His body to die. With one last surge of strength, He once again pressed His torn feet against the nail, straightened His legs, took a deeper breath, and uttered His seventh and last cry: "Father, into Your hands I commit My spirit."

Death
The common method of ending a crucifixion was by crurifracture, the breaking of the bones of the leg. This prevented the victim from pushing himself upward; the tension could not be relieved from the muscles of the chest, and rapid suffocation occurred. The legs of the two thieves were broken, but when the soldiers approached Jesus, they saw that this was unnecessary.

Apparently, to make doubly sure of death, the legionnaire drove his lance between the ribs, upward through the pericardium and into the heart. John 19:34 states, "And immediately there came out blood and water." Thus there was an escape of watery fluid from the sac surrounding the heart and the blood of the interior of the heart. This is rather conclusive post-mortem evidence that Jesus died, not the usual crucifixion death by suffocation, but of heart failure due to shock and constriction of the heart by fluid in the pericardium.

Resurrection
In these events, we have seen a glimpse of the epitome of evil that man can exhibit toward his fellowman and toward God. This is an ugly sight and is likely to leave us despondent and depressed.

But the crucifixion was not the end of the story. How grateful we can be that we have a sequel: a glimpse of the infinite mercy of God toward man -- the gift of atonement, the miracle of the resurrection, and the expectation of Easter morning.

==========

Did You really have to die for me? -- "Worlds Apart", Jars of Clay

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

A God who will be mocked

In February and March of this year, there were two major headlines dealing with the religion of Islam around the world. First, a series of political cartoons depicting the prophet Muhammad with associations to terrorism led to widespread rioting across several nations and led to a death mark being placed on the cartoonists. Second, a Muslim man in Afghanistan publicly converted to Christianity and subsequently underwent loud, public persecution (including many clerics calling for his death) before he was finally freed, anonymously for his own protection.

I don't intend to delve too much into the politics or the ethical issue of free speech in this post. As a quick aside, that issue seems to boil down to this question - if you are abiding by the Golden Rule ("do to others what you would have them do to you") but the other is not, Jesus teaches his followers to "turn the other cheek" and not retaliate - but is the world obligated to? I.e., in the worldwide conversation, is it right or just for Western media to tiptoe around even broad characterizations of the nation of Islam that might be negative, when their media is not pulling any punches insulting the West?

Rather, there were a few quotes in the news articles covering these events, particularly the Afghan Christian, that drew my attention:

Said Mirhossian Nasri, the top cleric at Hossainia Mosque, one of the largest Shiite places of worship in Kabul, said Rahman must not be allowed to leave the country. "If he is allowed to live in the West then others will claim to be Christian so they can too," he said. "We must set an example. ... He must be hanged."

The clerics said they were angry with the United States and other countries for pushing for Rahman's freedom. "We are a small country and we welcome the help the outside world is giving us, but please don't interfere in this issue," Nasri said. "We are Muslims and these are our beliefs. This is much more important to us than all the aid the world has given us."

"Rejecting Islam is insulting God. We will not allow God to be humiliated. This man must die," said cleric Abdul Raoulf, who is considered a moderate.


In essence, this is one central difference between Islam and Christianity. Allah and the prophet Muhammad must not be insulted or humiliated, and they call their followers to punish severely those who would do so. Jesus laid down his divinity in order to be insulted, humiliated, and to die on the cross for the sins of man, to make a way to God - and he calls his followers to live a life of obedience that would result in similar insult and persecution for them. As John Piper put it (worth reading the whole article!), "If Christ had not been insulted, there would be no salvation. This was his saving work: to be insulted and die to rescue sinners from the wrath of God.... For Christ, enduring the mockery of the cross was the essence of his mission. And for a true follower of Christ enduring suffering patiently for the glory of Christ is the essence of obedience."

Lately, I've been reading through the Book of Philippians for my devotional times with God, and re-encountered these verses (3:10-11):

"I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead."

It's a daunting thing to desire the fellowship of sharing in Jesus' sufferings in my life. But I think I'm going to have to try.

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

Glimpses

Some verses, lyrics, and quotes that have come to mind in the last day or so...

So hey baby, can you shed some light on the problem maybe? / 'Cause we're all tired and we'd like to know / If we should pack our tents, shut down the show / Yes, we should like to see a burning bush-type sign / But anything would be fine -- "Anything", Sixpence None The Richer

Do not eat the food of a stingy man, do not crave his delicacies; for he is the kind of man who is always thinking about the cost. -- Proverbs 23:6-7a

There is surely a future hope for you, and your hope will not be cut off. -- Proverbs 23:18

Listen to your father, who gave you life, and do not despise your mother when she is old. -- Proverbs 23:22

By wisdom a house is built, and through understanding it is established; through knowledge its rooms are filled with rare and beautiful treasures. A wise man has great power, and a man of knowledge increases strength; for waging war you need guidance, and for victory many advisers. -- Proverbs 24:3-6

Know also that wisdom is sweet to your soul; if you find it, there is a future hope for you, and your hope will not be cut off. -- Proverbs 24:14

I would leave each of you with the hope that as you make your own choices over time, you will choose in such a way that allows your drive for achievement to be balanced by an equal commitment to love and to play, to family, to friends and community. I hope... that when you are "old and gray and full of sleep," as the poet William Butler Yeats once wrote, that you can say that your goal in life was not the perfection of work alone but the perfection of a life. -- Doris Kearns, Dartmouth Commencement Address, 1998-06-14