Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Friday, December 20, 2013
The Man Who Shocked America
Revising a young adult fantasy novel does not lend itself well to the debate on current hot topics. Nevertheless. I’ve elected to throw my two cents into the whirlwind of opinions regarding the man who shocked America.
Who am I talking about?
Phil Robertson, of course.
In case you haven’t heard (but you probably have), click here . . . or here . . . or here.
Apparently, our unshockable American society is still capable of being stunned cold. Even in our MTV-riddled, Internet-browsing, all-tolerant 21st century. All it takes is a multimillionaire speaking his mind about a controversial subject. And not following the script.
I’ve read the article that got Robertson in trouble. (It’s rather long, but you can find it here.) For responses, I’ve seen furious rants, spirited applause, pleas for justice, and all sorts of trite phrases about love and hell.
I picture the Robertson clan and wonder if this jaunt into the frying pan will affect their Christmas.
And then I wonder what we’re all so shocked about.
Sure, the exact quote was somewhat . . . intense . . . but Robertson didn’t really say anything that earth-shattering. He just presented an opinion. Something we like to do on facebook millions of times a day. And when he quoted Scripture (he paraphrased 1 Corinthians 6:9,10) . . . he spoke the truth.
Has truth become so rare in America that it shocks us when we hear it? Is the GBLT crowd offended by Robertson because they’ve never heard a Christian without a picket sign say homosexuality is a sin? Is the media slack-jawed because so few of the people they interview will dare this topic head-on? . . . Are my homosexual friends appalled because I’ve never shared what I believe? Have we blended so well into our society of tolerance? Have we really grown so quiet?
In the end, the infallible truth of God’s Word - and do we believe that? - will still be two things. Infallible and true. Regardless of cultural pulls or popular opinions or even governing laws. But as Robertson has decisively proven, society grows more and more shocked at God's standards the more bashful Christ-followers become with truth.
Who am I talking about?
Phil Robertson, of course.
In case you haven’t heard (but you probably have), click here . . . or here . . . or here.
Apparently, our unshockable American society is still capable of being stunned cold. Even in our MTV-riddled, Internet-browsing, all-tolerant 21st century. All it takes is a multimillionaire speaking his mind about a controversial subject. And not following the script.
I’ve read the article that got Robertson in trouble. (It’s rather long, but you can find it here.) For responses, I’ve seen furious rants, spirited applause, pleas for justice, and all sorts of trite phrases about love and hell.
I picture the Robertson clan and wonder if this jaunt into the frying pan will affect their Christmas.
And then I wonder what we’re all so shocked about.
Sure, the exact quote was somewhat . . . intense . . . but Robertson didn’t really say anything that earth-shattering. He just presented an opinion. Something we like to do on facebook millions of times a day. And when he quoted Scripture (he paraphrased 1 Corinthians 6:9,10) . . . he spoke the truth.
Has truth become so rare in America that it shocks us when we hear it? Is the GBLT crowd offended by Robertson because they’ve never heard a Christian without a picket sign say homosexuality is a sin? Is the media slack-jawed because so few of the people they interview will dare this topic head-on? . . . Are my homosexual friends appalled because I’ve never shared what I believe? Have we blended so well into our society of tolerance? Have we really grown so quiet?
In the end, the infallible truth of God’s Word - and do we believe that? - will still be two things. Infallible and true. Regardless of cultural pulls or popular opinions or even governing laws. But as Robertson has decisively proven, society grows more and more shocked at God's standards the more bashful Christ-followers become with truth.
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
The Day the Wall Rang
So, there I was, sitting at the kitchen table, eating a positively heavenly lunch. Sushi, frozen peach slices, nutella on pretzels, and a glass of milk. Heavenly. I was reading a book.
When the wall rang.
Like the sentence, “The phone rang.” Only it was a wall.
Just one crystal-clear, old-fashion r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-i-n-g. Then silence.
We have a pretty average kitchen wall. Not too exotic, not too dull. There’s an open cupboard full of flower vases and jars of rice, nuts, and things like that right next to the table. I looked this over very carefully to make sure nothing had a phone hiding under it. I peeked inside some of the vases (with the alarming suspicion I might see a spider with a cell phone up to his ear). I scoured underneath the newspapers and magazines on the table. I ducked under the table to check the floor.
No phone.
Like I said: “the wall rang.”
The first time it happened, I automatically said in my best phone recording voice, “I’m sorry. No one is available to take your call. Please leave a message after the tone.”
The second time it happened, I started thinking about all those young adult fantasy books I’ve been reading lately and thought perhaps I ought to delve into something a little less otherworldly in the near future.
The third time it happened, I began to wonder if God doesn’t sometimes call people when He wants to talk. Literally. Call them. Then I thought, well, but He really ought to point out the means of communication if He’s going to go that route.
I am now recording this sequence of events in the rather hopeless hope that someone somewhere in this vaguely unsettling world has had a wall ring on them in the past and can therefore explain the inexplicable? Why the wall mice have taken a sudden interest in stealing our technology. How the vases learned to talk. What “r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-i-n-g” means translated into English. Why the wall is calling me.
When the wall rang.
Like the sentence, “The phone rang.” Only it was a wall.
Just one crystal-clear, old-fashion r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-i-n-g. Then silence.
We have a pretty average kitchen wall. Not too exotic, not too dull. There’s an open cupboard full of flower vases and jars of rice, nuts, and things like that right next to the table. I looked this over very carefully to make sure nothing had a phone hiding under it. I peeked inside some of the vases (with the alarming suspicion I might see a spider with a cell phone up to his ear). I scoured underneath the newspapers and magazines on the table. I ducked under the table to check the floor.
No phone.
Like I said: “the wall rang.”
The first time it happened, I automatically said in my best phone recording voice, “I’m sorry. No one is available to take your call. Please leave a message after the tone.”
The second time it happened, I started thinking about all those young adult fantasy books I’ve been reading lately and thought perhaps I ought to delve into something a little less otherworldly in the near future.
The third time it happened, I began to wonder if God doesn’t sometimes call people when He wants to talk. Literally. Call them. Then I thought, well, but He really ought to point out the means of communication if He’s going to go that route.
I am now recording this sequence of events in the rather hopeless hope that someone somewhere in this vaguely unsettling world has had a wall ring on them in the past and can therefore explain the inexplicable? Why the wall mice have taken a sudden interest in stealing our technology. How the vases learned to talk. What “r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-i-n-g” means translated into English. Why the wall is calling me.
Saturday, August 31, 2013
News from the Front
Yesterday in the Aurora paper (which I never really see, by the way), my Grandpa found an article titled:
Huh. That's weird. That sounds like what my sister did. And didn't she work in Aurora before she moved to Zambia? Oh, hey, it is my sister! And her smiling face is plastered all over the page. Which is weird cause it's August 31, and she hasn't been in the States for more than two months now.
So, since someone went to an awful lot of trouble to plaster my sister's face all over page 3 of the Aurora News-Register, I thought I'd share it with you. (Bear with me on the whole newspaper format issue. I couldn't come up with a better way to do it.)
Keep it up, little sis . . . whether you're signing autographs or checking a pulse. I'm so proud of you!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)