Flawed Thoughts (Part 1?)

 One of my earliest blog posts was on The Third Choice in a Two Sided Argument that is something I have pondered for quite some time. I have continued to ponder it since that post and perhaps refine it a bit as well. The question I posed is "Why do people insist that Creationism and Evolution are mutually exclusive theories?" Now, I use God when I could use Supreme Being, but I'm not sugar-coating anything. My belief is in God, not just as the Supreme Being but as the Creator, and besides, anyone who merely believes in a Supreme Being is probably not a proponent of Creationism anyway. Creationism is after all a result of the book of Genesis. And I intend my arguments for people of faith rather than just anyone because they have that singular point as well. In my original post I ended up getting off tangent with a discussion on the Flying Spaghetti Monster and the Invisible Pink Unicorn. The discussion is not intended to make scientific types accept God, there are other apologetic discussions for that. Rather it is intended to get Christians to accept science and to see that the use of science is not an indication of a weakness or inability to create in any other way.

The first thing I realized after posting initially was that I did not intend to engage the thoughts of the scientific community, only those people of faith. Those who typically see anything scientific as not of God. I describe it as my Christian Flawed Thought. It is every bit as troublesome as the Scientific Flawed Thought. The CFT discounts the fact that science, scientific principles, and even the drive and desire to prove something all comes from God. It is not a worldly concept that merely leads to a humanistic explanation--in its purest form. Now perhaps as often as most of the time this drive does lead to a humanistic explanation. These would be the people I call "educated beyond their intelligence." Having this group of people seems to feed the belief that scientific endeavours are not of God.

Regardless of how the belief came about, or is perpetuated, there is a syllogistic gap in the logic that in itself becomes an incredulous object to those on the other side of the coin. One of my favorite authors, Douglas Adams, used the fact that the religious take any questioning of their faith as an affront to their faith and disallow it as an argument in favor of not believing in God anyway. His thought was that anything that required you to not think about it in order to prove that it exists, or that can only prove it exists by not proving it exists, must not exist. Those thinkers succumb to the Scientific Flawed Thought, that simply proving something (scientifically) is a sign that it is not from God. This also has a syllogistic gap in the logic, right at the very end, but in some ways the two flawed thoughts feed on themselves because the belief that proof shows non-existence increases the belief that the need to prove is a secular non-faith based activity.

There is still more to come on this subject, but the main point remains. Science cannot explain away God, but Christianity cannot explain away science.

Feeling Froggy

Yesterday one of my cousins challenged my sister and another cousin to join the National Novel Writing Month Camp. It is a month-long challenge to write a 50,000 word story in the month of August. To further make the matter interesting, we are picking a random writing prompt and running with it to see how we all take it. While it could be a bad idea to drop my current work in progress (currently growing at the 52k mark) it seems a fun way to spend some time. Especially since I will have time on my hands during the imminent move. In the vein of using a writing prompt I decided to turn the next post I read into a post that fits the theme of my blog. That post happened to be Frog Spotting. In FS, the author tells of running a 5k race and the things that went wrong at the start. Her rhythm was thrown off, her pace was not what it should be, Murphy's Law ruled the day. Then at the turn around point, she met some other runners. One needed encouraging, then the other. As she ran/walked with them the surroundings began to be apparent. Things they had noticed, or more likely saw as "background noise scenery" before became more vibrant and noteworthy. Especially the smallest of details.

This reminded me of a story I read in an email this afternoon. It is more than likely apocryphal, but poignant nonetheless. A man had a pretty good life until he was shipwrecked on a deserted island. After some time he had made a nice, comfortable hut, and had a decent existence all things considered. Until the night his hut burned down. It was a huge fire, consuming the house, all the tools, everything the man had scrounged and created to make life bearable. The next day as he sorted through the ashes he was mad at God asking why he had destroyed the only thing he had. As he looked up, there at the shore was a boat weighing anchor. The man was saved. He rushed to the beach and splashed through the water to meet the skiff coming to investigate and the captain told him that had they not seen his fire they would have kept cruising by.

A broken iPod, non-running stopwatch, and losing our motivation are small things compared to where we lie, but no less important at times. We may not immediately understand why they are taken from us, but the why is less important than the that. Because these comforts are taken from us it slows us down to His pace. It puts us where He wants us. It allows us time to see the beauty of the firmament that He has put here for us. We may not like it, we may be uncomfortable, but in the bosom of His will is the best place for us.

What troubles have you undergone to come out stronger on the other side? Better still, what pains are you experiencing now? Comment below.

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Pretentious Initials

Many people, myself included, have what I call Pretentious Initials after their names. For the most part these initials are hard to come by, though I've found that some of the longest, most obscure ones are not. For my part the Pretentious Initials I use are PE and MSCE, in that order. Wonderful thing about pretension, you can prioritize which pretentious title is more pretentious.

The second set of letters is much less used, and its use is more subjective. It indicates that I have a Master's of Science in Civil Engineering. A good number of engineers get a graduate degree in business or an easier non-technical field, I however chose to go the technical route and earn my Master's studying traffic and transportation including a thesis that I am proud of.

I am a Professional Engineer, which requires licensing by the State (or several States). If you use those pretentious initials without receiving a license by the State you can be fined, censured or any number of other matters by the State. Licensure in one State does not necessarily mean you can go to the next State and say you're an engineer or else you face the same penalties there. In order to get that license you must have a degree, four years of experience and have passed 2 eight-hour exams. It is not easy, I have known many great engineers who failed one or both tests four or five times. It is not an exclusive club, but there are only a small number of people in the group when compared to the population at large. Someone once described being a PE to me as a glass football. Very much similar to the BS Championship Trophy that the NCAA gives away to a team each year. On occasion the team earns it, but that's a different matter. Everyone strives for that glass football, working tirelessly, sweating profusely, training, working, until that day that they are able to hold it aloft and claim it as their own. At that time, you realize you are holding a glass football. You don't want anyone to take your glass football, and if you drop it, you'll be holding a pile of glass. So you protect the glass football, not allowing anyone to touch it or to misuse it, or you holding it.

I fondly recall that day over four years ago that I found out I had passed the exam. My wife came to work and gave me the letter from the State. I read it and my feet no longer touched the ground. For three straight days I was on a high. Then, on day four it hit me. I was now licensed by the State to sign and seal a set of engineered plans that would/could be built and used by the public at large. If anything were wrong in the plans it would be my fault. Engineers are like doctors in that what they do can affect people and sometimes they can even kill them. But unlike doctors, engineers can kill people by the hundreds or thousands at one time. So that glass football I had strived so hard to achieve finally in my grasp now surrounds me. Rather than keep it safe by hiding it, I move carefully to protect it as it contains me.

That feeling of panic passes, but what remains is the sense of grace. I have been graced by the State to make the decisions that can affect the outcome of whatever the projects I work on can touch. I have the education, the experience, the background to make the right calls, to do the right thing, but in the end it still takes me doing the right things, making the right calls to maintain that license.

This is no less than what we are given by God. He grants us grace, we do not deserve it, we do not earn it. We get all the right education and experience to pass it on and make disciples, but at the heart of it all remains the grace of God. He gives us what we cannot earn, giving us what we cannot merit, it is a matter of grace.

Blast Waves

More on Lance Corporal Jeffrey Knight:

Jeffrey is doing well considering where he is and what he's going through. He has finally had his legs closed and is anxious to get his prosthetic legs. He still has not seen his left hand yet. He got into a wheelchair a few days ago and the next day got an electric one so he could move himself around. He still has surgery nearly every day but they have figured out which drug was causing him hallucinations and other problems.

When the incident occurred, he was clearing a knoll of IEDs and just didn't feel right. He went back for some C4 to just blow the hill, and had it in his left hand. When he got to the spot he wanted, his metal detector went off and he knew he had stepped on the device. It threw him back and he landed on his back. When he went to stand, he couldn't and knew he had lost his legs. They train Marines nowadays that if they get caught like this they will probably lose their legs, but they have tourniquet kits on the side. They have one and a half minutes to get it on before they bleed out. Jeffrey reached for his, and it had been blown away by the blast. It took his comrades three minutes to get his tourniquets on.

As I initially suspected, Jeffrey was relieved to know that he was the only one who got injured in his squad and that no one died. He is very excited about his recovery. It's a long road yet, but all things considered, it could be tougher.

Many people would look at this situation and say why. They would question how a loving God could allow something so tragic to happen. What I know about it is that Jeffrey has been receiving a good  number of prayers, and they are working. He may never have his legs back, but he is right where God wants him to be.

Oftentimes we think of our children and say that we would do anything for them, especially if they were in a life threatening situation. Think about God, though. He not only would do anything for his children, He CAN do anything for His children. There is nothing that can stop Him from saving anyone he wants. And yet He allowed His son, Jesus, to die. The only being capable of stopping it, and yet He did not. He did not stop the crucifixion of Jesus and allowed him to die because that is what it took for us to be able to live.

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• Blast from Afar (byrdmouse.com)
• Shrapnel Lands at Home (byrdmouse.com)

Cut It Short

'I made this [letter] very long, because I did not have the leisure to make it shorter.' Pascal

It comes as no surprise to some, but I'm not very widely liked at church. Especially in the older crowd, or as I have heard them called (and often repeated) the Blue-Haired Crowd. Mind you I am not accusing all of the older generation, many of them are more God-fearing and righteous (in the right manner) than I am. In fact, there are still many I look up to. The reason for this is that unlike most in my age group, I show up at the business meetings, and I open my mouth. When I do it makes those who are comfortable in their status quo relationships at church uncomfortable.

The town I live in is one predominantly made of outsiders. People from all over come to live on the lake. Long ago I stopped asking people if they were from here and rather started asking them where they were from. My ability to discern they weren't from here was amazing to them--at least until they figured out how I did it. The church I attend, however, is full of people who ARE from here. I have had many conversations with other transplants, including some of the leadership of the church, about how difficult it is to "break-in" to the inner circle. Briefly recapping what I just said, I live in a town full of outsiders that embrace outsiders, and attend a church of insiders who don't always embrace outsiders. About 3 years ago I considered leaving, and had a friend tell me that if my family went somewhere else in a matter of 5 years we would see that things were the same there, at least here we know who is what. It was really then that I started to open my mouth.

One of my favorite authors, Ted Dekker, wrote a book entitled The Slumber of Christianity in which he described exactly the situation I see happening in the church as a whole, and my church in particular. People who get so comfortable in their Christianity and their status that they cease to zealously strive for Christ. Churches become a place to go socially, to connect with other like-minded individuals and not a place to rock the boat. They have been in the church for decades, and choose to run the church the way they want regardless of if it is the right way. Again, I do not mean that everything they do is wrong, but more often than not the decisions appear to be more self-serving than not.

An example is what happened in our recent recession. As the economy soured and money, particularly offerings and tithes, dwindled we were constantly called upon to "give sacrificially" or "give 'til it hurts." At the same time, the budget was amended to stop spending on things such as sending the staff to more conferences, less literature for the library and eliminating scholarships for mission trips.The message here was that members were to give until it hurts, but the church would be wise stewards of the money and not spend it on frivolous activities. Not only did I see this as a problem, but we had a speaker at our revival that year who specifically called out the same areas as things that were important that needed to not be cut out just because times get hard.

The lead group in this matter is one Sunday School Class which remains nameless. As mentioned a few times, not everyone, even in this class, is a part of the problem. There is a Sunday School Class of people my age that I have long joked will become the new class that does this, and I had to bite my tongue when I happened to be around when they were told they should move their class into the same room due to size (one meets while the other is in church then vice versa). This Sunday my small men's class joined them because their teacher was absent at the last-minute. Between getting started late because of this last second change and the subject we were speaking about (which in some ways hit upon some of the topics in this post) we spent 5 to 7 minutes praying at the end, and ran way longer than we should have. This in turn caused the older class to be late getting in.

As we broke up and the other class entered, I was standing in the back and a gentleman asked me who had taught today. I commented that at the last second my teacher had been called up off of the bench, smiling and being cordial. This gentleman was not very cordial or smiling and asked me if he knew he was supposed to be done fifteen minutes before. As my own mood began to change I told him no, he didn't and also that the guy in the yellow shirt was the one he would need to talk to. He told me he would just talk to the Associate Pastor (whose hats include Education Minister).

I walked away quite angry. So angry that on my way to the MPR where our contemporary service is held I decided quickly that I would not participate in the Lord's Supper (normally done on the first Sunday of each month) because my heart was not in the right place. We ended up not having the Lord's Supper, and I did calm down. Perhaps this whole post is just me ranting to get over it, I can't deny the distinct possibility of that. Part of me thinks that if he had made the comment to anyone else they would have allowed it to fall like water on a duck's back while I took it as water under a duck's butt.

It seems best for me to have been the one commented to, because I don't know what anyone else would have said or done. And that is a whole lot better note to end this rant on. In case you wondered though, the difference is that water on a duck's back falls harmlessly, water under a duck's butt sometimes gets crapped on.

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Shrapnel Lands at Home

Last week I shared an incident with a friend's grandson in Blast From Afar. This post is in some ways an update, but in others it speaks of God's Providence as well.

Jeffrey's mother lives near a town that is literally a crossroad with a gas station on one corner that only has one pump. Last Wednesday, the day after the family found out about His injuries, she was headed to the store and noticed a DAV van outside. After she finished her shopping she asked about the van and the cashier said they were setting something up out back. She went and talked with them. The Marines and other services are good about supporting their fallen troops, but the Disabled American Vets group told her that at some point she would come upon a question that no one would answer. When that happens she should look them up. They chose to take their road show to a little town in Texas, not knowing who they might find and stumbled upon someone who not only needed them, but who only just found out she needed them.

This second incident is as powerfully Providential and potentially more prophetic. Wednesday morning Jeff, his father, got a call from an odd area code. Thinking it was someone from the Marine Corps again he answered to hear, "Hello, Dad!"

After a short while, he found out that Jeffrey was in a field hospital but would be transferred to an Afghanistan hospital, then one in Germany, finally coming to Maryland (where he currently is). At the end of the call, Jeff called his brother Kenny, who was also a Marine, and found him riding his bike on a mountain trail in Georgia. Kenny rode 40 miles working out his anger and aggression over hearing of his nephew's injury. He pulled to the side of the trail and as he hung up to return to riding, he saw a couple riding up. He waited for them to pass before reentering the trail. The male rider had two prosthetic legs below the knee. Kenny decided to chase him down to talk to him, but as hard as he could pedal he never caught up with the double-prosthetic limbed biker.

God answers prayers all the time. He doesn't always answer them the way we think He should, or even sometimes in ways we think He did answer them, but they all get answered. I still don't know what the future holds for my friend's grandson, but whatever it is, I know it has God figured prominently in it.

In a comment on this blog I shared a. Einstein quote in which he said that there are two ways to view the world. One is as if nothing were a miracle, the other as if everything is a miracle. That has never seemed more appropriate to me then now.

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Author C. Clarke

In one of my opening pages I mentioned authors who have had profound effects on me and my writing style. Strangely, despite my well-entrenched faith in God, two of them had no faith, and one of them is the first I have chosen to discuss. In a parallel coincidence, the other agnostic author also had trouble writing a trilogy in three parts. Two days ago we had an asteroid pass close to the earth. Close here is a relative term, it was astronomically close. My father, who has long used the pretentious initials TN behind his name (that one has its own long story) has been into astronomy since he was a Star Scout. In high school he built a telescope and went to the National Science Fair with it. Growing up I was often awakened in the middle of the night to see through it the moon, Jupiter, Mars, Saturn, and other passing stars. Twice a year I would go across the street to Uncle Jimmy's yard (highest elevation in town at nearly 35 feet) to watch meteor showers. So it was natural (to me) when he warned me of the miss to tell him that I knew it was coming because Arthur C. Clarke had told me.There are many innovations and ideas that Clarke wrote in his books that became science fact rather than science fiction. Thankfully, his predictions of asteroids becoming meteorites have not yet come to pass.

The first Clarke book I read was Rendezvous with Rama where said predictions occur. It was a fascinating read that showed me the history of the future in an unadulterated form. The words leapt from the page and painted a deeply coloured picture of Clarke's images. For those who haven't read it, an oft-repeated point is that the Ramans do everything in threes. Most who know me probably think that my thought after reading it was "Is this was where we get the noodles from," but that wasn't it. It was, "Where are the other 2 books?"

I never got into a dedicated binge of reading Arthur C. Clarke, but I did read many of his works. I especially liked the off the wall works that no one ever talks about, like The City and the Stars and The Fountains of Paradise. After reading The City and the Stars, my American Eskimo puppy, Jake, chewed the book to pieces. I took it to the library and told them I didn't mind paying for it, but ONLY if they bought another copy of it to put on the shelf. They did. 

Years later he finally did come out with sequels to Rendezvous. Three to be precise. The fourth book seemed overkill, especially because of the errors I found in the story. That book was one co-written with Gentry Lee. I wrote Arthur C. Clarke after that one telling him of some problems in the book. Imagine that, a kid sending a letter to a world renown and famous author, telling him what was wrong with what he wrote. In reply, he sent me a form letter, which was a bit disappointing at first. Then I recognized, he had scratched out "Dear Respondent" and hand-written "Jonathan" as well as some other notes at the bottom. He signed it, then promoted a website he was promoting at the time.

Arthur C. Clarke wasn't the first author I sent a letter to, and he wasn't the last. He is one I only communicated with once, and part of that is my fault. Arthur C. Clarke was a great man, a great author, and his legacy continues to live on. He doesn't, but his work does. My current work was spurred into creation after reading The Fountains of Paradise shortly after his death. Unlike him, my work contains hidden and obvious references to God and His path for eternal life through grace. What I learned from him was that when an altar boy tells the pope he's messed up mass the pope can either put him in his place or thank him in a way that makes him realize what he did without making it look bad.

Article on Asteroid 2011MD

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Ticket to Where?

Image via Wikipedia

It has been said that in January 2000, leaders in Charlotte, North Carolina, invited their favorite son, Billy Graham, to a luncheon in his honor. Billy initially hesitated to accept the invitation because he struggles with Parkinson's disease. But the Charlotte leaders said, 'We don't expect a major address. Just come and let us honor you.' So he agreed.

After wonderful things were said about him, Dr. Graham stepped to the rostrum, looked at the crowd, and said, "I'm reminded today of Albert Einstein, the great physicist who this month has been honored by Time magazine as the Man of the Century. Einstein was once traveling from Princeton on a train when the conductor came down the aisle, punching the tickets of every passenger. When he came to Einstein, Einstein reached in his vest pocket. He couldn't find his ticket, so he reached in his trouser pockets. It wasn't there. He looked in his briefcase but couldn't find it. Then he looked in the seat beside him. He still couldn't find it. "The conductor said, 'Dr. Einstein, I know who you are. We all know who you are. I'm sure you bought a ticket. Don't worry about it.' Einstein nodded appreciatively. The conductor continued down the aisle punching tickets. As he was ready to move to the next car, he turned around and saw the great physicist down on his hands and knees looking under his seat for his ticket. "The conductor rushed back and said, 'Dr. Einstein, Dr. Einstein, don't worry, I know who you are; no problem. You don't need a ticket. I'm sure you bought one.' Einstein looked at him and said, 'Young man, I too, know who I am. What I don't know is where I'm going.'' Having said that Billy Graham continued, "See the suit I'm wearing? It's a brand new suit. My children, and my grandchildren are telling me I've gotten a little slovenly in my old age. I used to be a bit more fastidious. So I went out and bought a new suit for this luncheon and one more occasion. You know what that occasion is? This is the suit in which I'll be buried. But when you hear I'm dead, I don't want you to immediately remember the suit I'm wearing. I want you to remember this: I not only know who I am. I also know where I'm going." May your troubles be less, your blessings more, and may nothing but happiness, come through your door. "Life without God is like an unsharpened pencil - it has no point." While I have not been able to verify either the Billy Graham story or the Einstein anecdote, even if they were created for this story they match what both men might have done and said. In much the same manner, it has been reported that Einstein did not know his own phone number because if he was there he couldn't call himself and if he wasn't home he couldn't answer if it rang. None would doubt Billy knows where he is headed. Regardless of whether or not they know what it takes or how to get there, none would argue that Billy will be anywhere other than in heaven. The thing is, Billy didn't do anything to get into heaven. He would tell you that, too. It isn't works or what he's done that qualified Billy for his one way ticket, it was grace. The grace of God-given through Jesus has punched Billy's ticket. And mine. What about you? Do you have a ticket?

Life without God is like an unsharpened pencil - it has no point.

Growing a Human

While Proverbs 22:6 "Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it." was not the subject of the conversation the other day, it did occasion me to think of the following analogy. It is one I have contemplated for some time. Growing up we get a skeleton for our faith. This begins as our parents show their faith to us. Notice I am not saying just the Christians, Muslims do it, Hindus do it, atheists do it. Parents show their children what is important to them. More often than not, these are the ideals that the child grows up with as well. How the parent treats them, as important or not, also begins to send messages to the children as to how they should treat the matters.

Now the skeleton by itself is extremely flexible-in someone else's hands. Knees can bend in 2 directions because there are no tendons or muscles to restrict them. A child's view of religion is not very deep. It is very open to interpretation, and without guidance it can lead to anything. As we are able to grow in our faith, we understand better and are required to take fewer things by faith having gained an understanding of the truths behind them.

As we get older and bigger we add tendons and muscles and maybe eventually skin. The reasons for some of the bones being where they are becomes evident. Or at least it becomes clear that they simply are where they belong. You can't get muscles before the skeleton. And while the muscles and tendons can be seen as restricting the movement of the skeleton, it is the way the body is meant to be. The truth of the way the body should move. The more body we have built, the more truth we understand, the closer we come to having something to put skin on, and a face. Eventually if we are lucky enough, we can get a complete body. It isn't by chance or accident, and it isn't overnight.

One of my absolute favorite CS Lewis books is Til We Have Faces. It is an allegory of the Psyche/Cupid myth, and contains, of all the unlikely things, idol worship and a class of priests unlike any you would ever expect to meet in a Christian work of literature. Idol worship, sure, idol worship by the "good" guys? Not expected. It all boils down in the end to a point where the question from God to the main character is how can we speak face to face, unless you have a face? Without being able to comprehend the biggest question of all, how can it be discussed?

On a macro scale (and unless you look deeply at the remainder of the plot) this mimics the legendary agnostic Douglas Adams' answer to the question of life the universe and everything. We are given the answer (42) but cannot understand the question until a greater event has occurred.

No, these two don't go hand in hand. And likewise the moral of Til We Have Faces is not that we cannot understand anything about religion until we understand everything about religion. That is more a Josef Heller novel. The point of it all is that we start to grow our human body as a child. The input our parents give (or don't) is important in starting that off. That start also gives us the impetus to continue (or not) to build our understanding of how it all works until such time as we are able to no longer have to rely on faith alone to grasp the fundamental truths of it all.

Specks and Beams

One thing that used to bother me in reading the Old Testament is that the Israelites kept switching from following God to the gods of the day, Baal, Ashtoreth, and others. Another typical reaction, other than "Why?" is that as they turned from God they started going downhill. Soon, they realized it, turned back, and He blessed them all over again. In many ways reading some of the books of the Bible are like watching a scary movie. We find ourselves screaming at the screen saying, "Look behind you! Have you never seen a scary movie?"

Typically speaking, we gloss over the law especially as it relates to the part of the law we no longer practice. Sacrifice a bull for this, a goat for that, two birds for this. Only clean animals without blemish, sprinkle the blood here, burn the fat there. When you start to think about what the temple looked like, it had to be a bloody, sticky, gooey mess. And the tabernacle was a bloody, sticky, gooey, portable mess. It was like a slaughterhouse floor at times. The gods that the Israelites periodically switched to follow had similar rituals. They had graven images, idols, statutes and didn't care if the animals were clean, unclean, or human, but their altars were just as bloody, sticky, gooey and all around messy.

There are some places in the world where no matter what religion you follow, or even if you don't follow one, just seem to exude holiness. Granted, some more than others. The Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem is one. Any of the medieval cathedrals, and many of the cathedrals in the US demand respect. You don't walk in and sit down talking on their cell phone. Even if you don't follow that denomination there is a hushed reverence, like a library on steroids. This is more so in the highly organized or structured denominations/religions. And yes, some has to do with what you believe in. A Catholic in a cathedral is more reverent than a Baptist. Daddy Byrd, when he worked at the Church of the Redeemer, would bow toward the altar when he crossed the nave of the church, even when he was working. To a lesser degree, that is why I can't text or Twitter in our sanctuary while the pastor preaches (I can do it at services in the MPR-Baptist for gym).

So, when you add up reverent location with similar looking, smelling, and feeling it was not that large a leap for the Israelites to switch. Some of those coming to sacrifice may not have even realized the difference. It still looked like the tabernacle or temple, it still smelled the same, it felt the same, the priests were the same, what was that new statue on the way out again?

It is often easier to see the mistakes of others than it is to see our own. We rail against the Israelites while we read not realizing the ease with which something can be substituted until the original is no longer there. Subtle changes that taken in part are not much different but taken holistically have the opportunity to completely change the context of the subject matter. Perhaps we are too hard on the Israelites. Hundreds of years of slinging fat and blood against the altar they may not have realized how far off they were straying. Have we strayed in our religious practices, too? The answer is probably not what you first think, but if you honestly evaluate it, the beam in our eyes interferes with us seeing the Israelites' specks.

Poster Boy for Answered Prayers

Not long ago, I was involved in a regular Thursday Morning Men's Prayer Group. We met each Thursday at 6:30 and after about a half hour of prayer walked across the street to eat a biscuit. I still maintain that there is something scriptural, and sometimes ephiphany-revealing (is ephiphanical a word?) about eating together. For just one example see Luke 24:30. It became to me more important than Sunday School, and that was the hour that my preacher still calls the most important hour of the day. I started attending after telling my employer I would be late on Thursday mornings. Then I changed jobs, twice, and told my boss after accepting the job, "By the way, I'll be late on Thursday mornings." It was not a question, it was a statement.

About 5 years ago my marriage hit the roughest patch it ever has. We were fighting each other as much as ourselves. Or maybe it was just me. I moved into an apartment closer to where I worked, which was also about 40 miles from home and church. At this time I stopped attending the prayer group. Eventually, I found myself to be so miserable without my beloved Ginger that we reconciled and have had a wonderful marriage since. We have had a third child, now 6 months old, named Faith. I could not have picked a more appropriate name, though I did try. Scarlett Grace was the name I tried for because it is by the blood of Jesus I have received grace. In less than 3 months I will have been married for over half my life, yet I can barely remember a life without Ginger. This despite my anal retentive memory.

After the incident I did return to the prayer group. My current job is such that it doesn't allow a late arrival on Thursdays, yet, but I miss the men and the fellowship. Just this past Sunday I found out that the men of the group had agreed to pray for me during that time I was away. Not only on Thursday mornings, but whenever they thought of me. They prayed that I would be so miserable without my family that I would wake up and come to my senses.

Oftentimes we pray without knowing if it will do any good. Other times we don't pray and still get blessed. Most of the time when I pray the answer I receive looks nothing like the prayer I asked, but fills the prayer request better than I could have ever imagined. For most of my life I have considered myself a poster boy for answered prayers. So much so that I am afraid it sounds like I'm bragging about it at times. God answers prayers for you, whether you prayed them or not, whether you knew they were being prayed or not. Especially when you least expect it.