03/29/14

I do love caricatures.

NPR (with which I've fallen in love) ran a story many days ago about childhood beliefs. A psychologist(?) wrote that while childhood beliefs may seem naive to us, children are employing the same logic that we as adults use, but they're doing so within a framework of more limited information. The more information gathered, the more sensible conclusions can be drawn via logic. Many NPR stories end with a question posed to readers, a way for us to "plug into" the conversation. The article asked, "Which childhood beliefs did you hold but have now discarded?" I clicked the link to see people's answers, though I knew precisely what most people would write. Sure enough, I was right. The biggest childhood belief discarded in the face of new information was belief in God; the idea being that children are taught that God exist, but as they grow into mature (and thinking) adults, they will "learn" that God doesn't exist.

This irks me, and let me tell you why. First, belief in God isn't something you "learn." It's an unprovable assumption, no less unprovable than the assumption that He does not exist. Second, belief in God cannot be "learned" in the same way that you can learn mathematics or world history (or colonial history, for those so inclined), so to say that you have "learned" God doesn't exist doesn't make sense. Third, the assumption that God does or does not exist serves as a sort of framework for the way we interpret our lives; God's presence (or absence) can affect the way we see ourselves, our world, and the people around us; the assumption regarding God's existence (whether "yay" or "nay") doesn't come in lieu of the facts but, rather, as an interpretive grid through which we understand the facts. Fourth, to say that we have "learned" an assumption to be true is to broadcast the ignorance that has taken root in western society, especially among the "irreligiously elite." 

Atheism has become, in our western culture at least, the new elitism. By claiming to be an atheist, one isn't just espousing his or her view on the subject; to a greater and greater degree as the years go on, such a declaration is cultural rather than intellectual. We in western culture, proprietors of a naturalistic philosophy of materialist reductionism, often see ourselves as the pinnacle of civilization; we have it all figured out, we have the light to give to the nations, we have reached a point of understanding, and thus we serve as beacons to which the 2nd- and 3rd-world countries can flock. It's cultural arrogance and nothing less. A less recent NPR article showcased an ex-Wall Street tycoon whose own atheistic elitism shattered when he started practicing photography on the streets of New York. One of his quotes has remained with me: "Atheism is a luxury of the wealthy." Those who are self-reliant and self-sufficient are far more apt to declare God's nonexistence than those who are dependent on others for this or that. As atheism has become not only culturally acceptable but culturally praised, more and more people are embracing it without giving it much thought. At the heart of many claims to atheism is idolatry, a worship of the self that echoes the original temptation in the Garden; when one's greatest need isn't food or shelter, or anything one can't provide by his or her own efforts, the greatest need becomes autonomy. Others claim atheism as a revolt against any sort of authority, embracing this manner of thought to justify one's actions and desires in the face of a "conscience" that is rendered anything but by saying there is no such thing over and over again. These "new atheists" embrace every fad of atheism that hits the market, regardless of the fact that the most beloved anti-theists in mainstream thought and media are ridiculed by the majority of intellectual atheists. One stream of anti-religious sentiment, couched in interpretive science, has the loudest voices; in a world where people would much rather let others think for them, the loudest voices become the determiners of truth. 

Of course, not all atheists embrace atheism as a form of idolatry, or self-justification, or simply because it's the next fad in western thought and it jives well with Apple products. Many atheists are atheists because they have given the issues much thought, they have examined different interpretations, and they have come to their convictions by way of an intellectual boxing match. In the same way, not all religious folk come to "the cloth" with pure motives (indeed, I'd say most of us haven't), but if the religious can be so misled (as atheists claim), then why can't atheists be so misled, as well? 

from Blue Ash (IV)

How do YOU spend your mornings?

I officially have no life. Between Tazza Mia and Walk of Joy I'm working around 70 hours a week, give or take, and though it's indeed exhausting (not having scheduled days off except when shifts randomly cancel, and working 14-16 hour days multiple times a week), I'm energized knowing that I'll be able to put around $1000 away every month for my move to Wisconsin. I prayed that God would bring me more hours, and He answered that prayer, and I'm ever thankful for that. The grapevine tells us that the coffee shop will close sometime in mid-April to the beginning of May, but Brandon hinted that it may be open through the end of summer. I wouldn't mind that at all; indeed, it would be perfect!

I'm writing this in the dining room alone.

Every couple minutes, the sound of gushing water comes from the kitchen.

Every time I look over, the sound stops.

It's really starting to freak me out.

Do I believe in ghosts? I'm not sure.

But I do believe in demons. And they terrify me.

I'm pretty sure screwing with the faucets is something they do.

Note to self: never watch The Amityville Horror EVER AGAIN.

I saw that movie back in college in 2005. It still horrifies me.

Despite not having a life, I try to make time to see my friends. Amanda's at the top of the list, and I try to see her at least once a week (which is more than I see anyone else). I got to see John and Brandy earlier this week, and we had lots of good talks about my life with the Wisconsinite, about how I'm moving up there and we're going to get engaged and then (you guessed it!) married, and Brandy said, "I know you guys have been officially dating for only, like, two months, but it's not weird for me to think about you guys getting married, and it doesn't concern me, because I've known about Mandy and your love for her so for long, that it makes sense and I'm really excited for you!" Do I concur? Yes, yes I do.

I'm tired and itching to read more of Wilderness Empire.

So here's a picture to keep you satiated:

it's a whale photobomb!

#ttfn

#tigger

[Colonial Currents]

This essay focuses on a handful of issues pertinent to studying the American colonies. The essay begins with a brief look at the three forms of British colonial government: proprietary, provincial, and royal colonies. Understanding the economic theory of mercantilism, and its "fleshing out" in the Navigation Acts, sheds light on Great Britain's relationship with her colonies and frames much colonial dissent. Emigration to the colonies is addressed, breaking the myth that Englanders emigrated to the colonies to have religious freedom (most colonies offered less religious freedom than England!) and showing how the reasons people emigrated to the colonies are many: to escape religious persecution, to evade European conflicts, and to wiggle free of European poverty. In a sense England viewed the colonies as a sort of "penal colony": England's jails were overflowing, so they began sending the unwanted and the criminals to America to labor on the plantations to turn England a profit (the "Sons of Liberty" so renown in American lore were probably comprised mostly of ex-convicts). The last part of the essay examines the emergence of the slave trade, the growth of southern slavery in the Chesapeake and "deep south," and the evolution of racism not as a cause of African slavery but, rather, as one of slavery's byproducts. 

Colonial Currents

"The Way" (IV)

People see only the flat surface. Their vision is two-dimensional and fixed to the ground. When you live a supernatural life, God will give you the third dimension: height, and with it, perspective, weight, and volume.

If you lose the supernatural meaning of your life, your charity will be philanthropy; your purity, decency; your mortification, stupidity; your discipline, a lash; and all your works, fruitless.

A little diversion! You’ve got to have a change! So you open your eyes wide to let in images of things, or you squint because you’re nearsighted! Close them altogether! Have interior life, and you’ll see the wonders of a better world, a new world with undreamed-of color and perspective… and you’ll draw close to God. You’ll feel your weaknesses; and you’ll become more God-like… with a godliness that will make you more of a brother to your fellow men by bringing you closer to your Father.

To reform. Every day a little. This has to be your constant task if you really want to become a saint.

If you are not master of yourself—even if you’re powerful—acting the master is to me something laughable and to be pitied.

It is hard to read in the holy Gospel that question of Pilate’s: “Whom do you wish that I release to you, Barabbas or Jesus, who is called the Christ?” But it is more painful to hear the answer: “Barabbas!” And it is more terrible still when I realize that very often—when I have wandered away—I, too, have said, “Barabbas!” And I’ve added, “Christ?... Crucifige eum!—“Crucify him!”

Don’t be afraid to call our Lord by his name—Jesus—and to tell him that you love him.

Withdraw into yourself. Seek God within you and listen to him.

A missionary. You dream of being a missionary. You vibrate like a Xavier, longing to conquer an empire for Christ—Japan, China, India, Russia; the peoples of North Europe, or of America, or Africa, or Australia! Foster that fire in your heart, that hunger for souls. But don’t forget that you’re more of a missionary obeying. Geographically far away from those apostolic fields, you work both here and there. Don’t you feel your arm tired—like Xavier’s!—after administering Baptism to so many?

What zeal men put into their earthly affairs! Dreaming of honors, striving for riches, bent on sensuality! Men and women, rich and poor, old and middle-aged and young and even children: all of them alike. When you and I put the same zeal into the affairs of our souls, then we’ll have a living and working faith. And there will be no obstacle that we cannot overcome in our apostolic works. 

from Blue Ash (III)

Sunday evening before work I went by the Winton Ridge to see John & Brandy and enjoy some of John's top-notch burgers. He smashes up saltines and meshes them with the burger, then adds bacon bits and a variety of spices and gives the burgers his undivided attention on the grill. His meats are always a treat, and I'm reminded of how much I have to learn when it comes to cooking good meats. 

Jason's mom came by the house the other day.
"Are you in school?" she asked.
I told her I graduated about five years ago.
"Oh really? Is social work what you went into?"
I told her, No, biblical studies.
As I said it, Jason and Ben wrapped their arms around me at the same time.
"We love you! We love you! We love you!" they sang.
I looked at Mary, smiled, said, "I'm not mad about where I'm at."

Ams and I watched the second-to-last episode of The Walking Dead yesterday afternoon. The season finale is shaping up to be phenomenal. Mandy was introduced to The Walking Dead Friday night, and watching Episode 1 of Season 2, I'm amazed at how different all the characters have become. They're more raw, emaciated even, filthy, and consumed by the world in which they find themselves. The show may have started off being about zombies, but it's become about the characters, and the way the post-apocalyptic world weeds out the weak and glorifies the strong, at the expense of one's own humanity. Speaking of zombies, here's a picture taken from the bathroom in New Richmond:

That's the last thing you want to see when you have zombies on the brain.
I went into the bathroom to pee, but I ended up doing much more than that.
I'm not a zombie fanatic, despite my love for zombie shows.
Although, writing no less than five novels about zombies seems to say otherwise.
But I promise you: I'm far less into zombies than you think.
(That doesn't mean I don't enjoy the good zombie dream every once in a while)
"It's not a nightmare... It's an adventure!"

Mandy and I went to church at State Avenue this past Sunday. Acoustic worship, a beautiful sermon about the banquet party of Christ, a congregation of broken people praising God in the midst of their brokenness and chasing after healing in Christ--or, rather, being chased into healing by Christ himself. It was refreshing, really, to be in a place of such honest brokenness and recovery, and to be reminded that we are all broken and all in need of recovery; every one us, regardless of socioeconomic status or the way we look in the eyes of the world, are in need of the healing that comes from Christ. We all have our addictions, our wounds, our sin; some peoples' brokenness is evident at first glance, but lots of people are adept at hiding it, or better yet repackaging it in such a way that it's so congruent with what culture accepts, tolerates, and praises that such brokenness can even be seen as a virtue. A community of the so-called "dregs" of society praising God for His salvation and hope, praising Him for sobriety and rescue, praying for their lost and wandering friends and family, coming together united by the Spirit, being authentic and transparent about their desperate need for Christ... this is Corinth, Ephesus, Rome. And such were some of you. United in new life in Christ, empowered by the Spirit and redeemed by the blood of the Sacrificial Lamb, probing the depths of God's love and kindness, learning to live in rhythm with the kingdom. Churches can become so obsessed with being "hip" and "relevant" in the name of missions that their obsession turns from God to a sort of "spiritual" marketing. We can become so enamored by being part of the "cool church down the street" that we begin to forget about our brokenness, our desperate need for Christ, our wretchedness; we can become so wrapped up in the new brand of Christianity that seeks to be "authentic" that we lose authenticity as we lose sight of the nature of our true selves. Needless to say, I enjoyed being part of that community last Sunday. 

#walkingontheclouds

The Wisconsinite and I spent most of the weekend together, and I cherished every moment of it! Thursday evening we got dinner and drinks at Marion's Piazza with Mom, Dad, and Ams. Mandy got to know my family a little bit more, and somehow I found an inroad into talking about the French attack on Pickawillany (modern-day Piqua) and how a French half-breed cut out Old Britain's still-beating heart and took a bite out of it as French and Indian soldiers rushed into the encampment, killing and scalping and burning. After Marion's, Mom introduced Mandy to my life through a scrapbook detailing my birth all the way up through my graduation, and Dad got out one of his shoebox memoirs filled with stuff I've written or made for him, and we laughed as we went through it. I proudly pointed to how after my second year of life, Ams was in nearly every picture in my scrapbook. I'm proud and thankful to have such an awesome little sister. Mom and Dad both really like her; indeed, Mom loves her! "I can't wait for you to be my daughter-in-law!" she exclaimed.

The next day, I gave Mandy a tour of my old stomping grounds: Springboro High School, I.G.A., 40 Willow Drive, and 430 Wellington Way. We went on a walk through the woods at North Park, and I related all kinds of stories: sledding into the creek, running through the woods impersonating velociraptors with Chris and Lee, that spot on the hill where I would go and smoke cigars and read my Bible with the woods alive and beautiful all around me. I introduced her to Dorothy Lane Market, and we created our own salads and went back to the house and sat on the back patio and ate our lunch and played fetch with Sky. Evening found us back in New Richmond, where we got sushi in Mount Lookout with Cameron & Cheryl, and we walked around Hyde Park and got candies at a candy shoppe and ice cream from Graeter's, and we ate our ice cream on a patio and in the shadow of a tree laced with white lights. Back at Cameron & Cheryl's, Mandy was introduced to The Walking Dead. Not exactly Downton Abbey.

Saturday before my shift in midnight we got coffee from Starbucks, walked around Ault Park and took lots of ridiculous photos, and we perused a game shop and had lunch at Dilly's Cafe in Mariemont. Sunday morning we parted ways after going to church at State Avenue Church of Christ, where I learned that when we go to church together and I bring coffee, I need to drink however much I want before she gets ahold of it. Bidding farewell was never fun (as always), and though it'll be over a month before I see her again (the longest we'll be apart since officially dating), I know it will go by quickly, and these weeks will be filled with working nonstop to bulk up my Wisconsin fund and my engagement ring fund. She's the woman I'm going to marry, and I've never found myself so eager to work.

[sunday meditations]

1 PETER 1.14-16

As obedient children, do not be conformed to the passions of your former ignorance, but as he who called you is holy, you also be holy in all your conduct, since it is written, “You shall be holy, for I am holy.”

A focused hope leads to a focused life. The result is that hope-filled living looks markedly different from the pattern of living so common in the present evil age. Although history has been marked by different epochs and ages since the inauguration of God’s kingdom, God’s kingdom has not yet been fully consummated, and many people live out-of-tune with God’s in-breaking kingdom, conforming their lives to the present evil age. Christians are to be the salt of the earth and lights in the darkness, pointing forward to a different way of being human, a way marked by genuine human living and by embracing in the present the future reality of the cosmos.

Henry David Thoreau, in his book Walden, writes that “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” What Thoreau noticed is what countless psychologists and sociologists haven’t missed: there’s something amiss in human living. This is, as we’ve seen, nothing new; the ancient philosophers sought to resolve this problem, sought to pave the way to genuine human living (over against living lives of quiet desperation). The philosophers sought eudaimonia, the fully-flourishing human life; and Christians teach that eudaimonia is found only in Christ, only in what God is doing and will do in the world. Though eudaimonia cannot be wholly experienced in the present (due to the tension between Easter and Consummation) Christians are to live as is fitting for renewed human beings. This manner of living consists of bringing the future, God’s fully-realized kingdom, into the present, and this involves conforming our thinking and behaviors around that. By this point, this statement should be nothing new. But perhaps now we can observe the contrast between what a hope-filled, focused life looks like over against the caricature of a desperate life (as Thoreau identified the mass of men living).

While a focused life is diligent and self-controlled, an unfocused life is loose and wandering. One whose life is focused can prioritize one’s habits and activities accordingly; when there is no focus, the result is a chaotic cesspool of frantic, desperate living. The focused life is a life with clear goals (that is, our future inheritance) and the manner of working towards those goals is clear (ethical living); an unfocused life is subject to countless shifting and changing goals, resulting in a life characterized by anxiety, restlessness, and worry. The focused life is a life centered upon a sure hope; an unfocused life clutches at every hope that seems to pass by.

The contrast goes deeper than mere externalities. Someone can be focused on something that is undeserving of focus; one can have clear goals, clear steps towards those goals, and yet be missing the mark entirely. At the heart of it all is the human heart. Conforming to the pattern of this world involves making oneself a slave to oneself; it’s making oneself King and, even worse, making oneself out to be God. Selfishness, greed, self-indulgence, indifference to men and to God: that is what a heart looks like in conformation to the present evil age. This fleshes itself out in pursuing the “passions”: the selfish desires of the heart. The gods of Marx, Nietzsche, and Freud are worshipped all over the globe: money, power, and sex are the focus of the world’s attention. The marked difference between God’s people and those enslaved to the present evil age goes deeper than mere “habits of desperation”; it cuts straight to the heart. God’s people are to shine as lights in the darkness, to be salt of the earth, and not just by the things that they do or don’t do (though that’s involved, of course) but, primarily, by the kind of people they are.

In a world dominated by selfishness, God’s people are to be selfless.

In a world dominated by greed, God’s people are to be self-giving.

In a world dominated by self-indulgence, God’s people are to be self-controlled.

In a world dominated by indifference, God’s people are to be filled with love.

In a world dominated by the lust for power, God’s people are to be humble.

In a world dominated by the lust for money, God’s people are to be generous.

In a world dominated by lust, God’s people are to treat sex as a sacrament rather than as a toy.

“Do not be conformed to the passions of your former ignorance,” St. Peter says. In other words: “You didn’t know any better back then. But now you do. So live like it!” Many of the Christians in Asia Minor, if not most of them, came from pagan backgrounds. The pagan worldview wildly differed from the Christian worldview; and the pagan perspective of the future—a perspective Nietzsche’s nihilism would embrace, where after death comes nothingness—stood as black against white to the Christian perspective of the future. Having converted to Christianity, having put their faith in Messiah, having repented of their former devotions, having been baptized into God’s household, the Christians in Asia Minor were to live according to a different “code of ethics,” a different manner of living. And this manner of living can be summed up in one word: holiness.

* * *

If you’re anything like me, the word “holiness” makes you squirm. It invokes images of deadness: a withered, naked tree with drooping and gnarled limbs and peeling bark. This poetic caricature is due to stereotypes that have been reinforced by countless well-meaning (but ill-sighted) Christians over the decades. Holiness doesn’t mean no smoking, no drinking, and no dancing (as some would have you believe). Nor does it mean profaning the very word “fun” and spending all day pouring over the Bible and reciting ancient prayers. The word itself literally means “to be separate,” and St. Peter quotes an Old Testament text—Leviticus 11.44—to echo an important narrative. In Leviticus 11.44, God calls Israel to be holy and to live differently from her pagan neighbors. It was Torah’s aim to keep Israel distinct and separate from the pagan nations. Now, with the coming of Messiah and his enthronement over the world, Israel has been reworked around Jesus, so that the church is Israel, the people of God. But God’s command to his people hasn’t changed; it’s the same as it was since the beginning: “Be Holy.”

The church is to be holy—distinct and separate—from her pagan neighbors, not in the sense of adhering to the Mosaic Law but living as is fitting for genuine human beings. Holiness—being “set apart”—is all about living as genuine human beings in a world that is filled with dehumanized human beings in need of rescue and renewal. Indeed, St. Peter’s identification of the Christians in this verse—“obedient children”—is both preceded and followed by mention of regeneration (1.3, 1.23). Christians are precisely God’s children because they have been born again, regenerated as genuine human beings, freed from the dehumanizing affects of sin on their human nature. Here’s the rub: Those who live in ignorance, outside of God’s covenant family, live dehumanized lives; those who are in God’s covenant family, those who are God’s children, have been born again and are to live accordingly, living-out their new identities as God’s renewed humanity; and this involves being separate (read: holy). On the metaphysical level, the level of our truest identities, we ARE holy, both individually and corporately, and we need to LIVE LIKE IT.

* * *

“If holiness means separateness,” you might ask, “then how is God holy? How is he separate?” When we speak of God being holy, we often speak of it as if it is one of his character traits. Indeed, in a sense, it is. But the term itself doesn’t denote any specific aspect of his character—either goodness, gentleness, love, or even wrath—but, rather, speaks to an over-arching reality regarding God:

He is separate and distinct, set apart. The question remains: how is he set apart? We can take the anthropological route: “He’s God, and we are not.” If that doesn’t satisfy, try the philosopher’s answer: “God’s separate from evil.” While these two answers remain the most popular, in the sense of being the most widely-held, I think a more adequate answer takes into account the historical context of Leviticus 11.44: “God is holy in the sense that he is separate and distinct from the pagan gods.”

After defeating a myriad of Egyptian gods in the Exodus narrative (each plague, and even the Red Sea crossing, attacked and defeated various Egyptian deities), and prior to delivering his people into the Promised Land where even more malicious gods dwelt (characters such as Dagon, Molech, and Ba’al were waiting to be tangled with), God identified himself as holy and set apart from these pagan gods, markedly distinct from the uncaring, capricious, and temperamental gods who characterized pagan theology. The God of the Exodus is loving, benevolent, patient, and just; and thus he’s wildly different than the gods whom he defeated in Egypt and whom he’d defeat in the Promised Land. And just as God was distinct from the pagan gods, so his people needed to be likewise distinct from the these gods’ pagan worshippers.

While it’s rare nowadays to find people worshipping these ancient gods (though it’s become popular, in some New Age movements, to resurrect such pagan worship), the call to holiness hasn’t been tossed aside. Those who haven’t responded to the gospel and turned to Messiah are conformed to the patterns of this present age, living “in tune” with a world marked by sin and death, decay and corruption. These modes of living court the present evil age with all its trademarks, and fallen humanity lives like animals rather than as human beings. Christians, renewed after the image of their creator, conforming to Christ, having been made and becoming genuinely human, are to live genuinely human lives, and such living will be (by its very nature) distinct from the patterns of living resplendent with those who haven’t experienced the rescue and renewal found in Christ. The benchmarks of Christian ethics (faith, hope, and love in 1 Corinthians 13 and the “fruit of the Spirit” in Galatians 5) are signposts to what genuine human living looks like. Just read any newspaper and see how much human beings have fallen from genuine human living, and may we as God’s people, as God’s rescued and renewed humanity, strive to live as is appropriate for his image-bearing creatures.

from Blue Ash (II)

this is why I fear the deep ocean

Mandy is in town, and it's been so great to spend time with her. Every moment is cherished; long distance relationships stink. The good news is that it won't be long distance forever. By November at the latest I'll be up there with her in Wisconsin, though I'm hoping that I'll be able to get up there on the tail end of summer. We'll have to see how everything pans out.

I'm watching Sanford & Sons.

At first I didn't like the show, but it's grown on me.

At the least, I'm thankful it isn't Jumanji.

(though I did watch that once already today)

I've been rereading some old books on postmillennialism. I grew interested in that eschatological perspective in college, and after studying it intensely for quite some time, I found myself leaving the camp of amillennialism and staking my claim on postmillennialism. This view runs quite contrary to the predominant view of American evangelicalism, that of premillennialism. The biggest difference, I think, is that premillennialists see the world getting worse and worse as time goes on, with the world being in a pretty dark and wretched state at Jesus's return, whereas postmillennialists see the gospel advancing, God's kingdom spreading slowly and gradually engulfing the entire world so that all nations become won over to Christ. That postmillennialism's declaration of the "end times" being marked by increasing conversion and holiness on the earth comes as a shock to modern Christian sensibilities is in itself surprising, since such a perspective has been commonly held up until the last century. Interestingly enough, premillennialism (most commonly held among Reformed theologians) was seen as ridiculous to John Calvin, who said (and I paraphrase) that premillennialism was so crazy that it didn't need any arguments against it. I used to be premillennial in high school, became amillennial at the advent of college, and was postmillennial by the end of college. The more I read and study eschatology, the more convinced I become of postmillennialism's merits. Perhaps a few blog posts should be forthcoming? We will see.

On the subject of theology, here's a Coffee With Jesus:

Forgiveness is a beautiful thing. Mandy and I were driving around this afternoon, and I told her about this comic strip, how it's just really struck me. So often I find myself reliving things of my past, experiencing guilt and shame over them, and each remembrance sends a shiver into my heart. I need to forgive myself in the way God has forgiven me. As God says through the prophet Isaiah, I, even I, am the one who wipes out your transgressions for My own sake. And I will not remember your sins. It's an amazing thought, isn't it? All those sins which I find difficult to forgive myself for, those sins that haunt me in my weaker moments, God has taken those sins and done away with them completely. When I mull over them, when I remember them and let those associated feelings of guilt or shame come over me, I'm not living in tune with who I really am in Christ, and in a sense, I'm cheapening the grace and mercy God has shown me. 

Last night Mandy and I had dinner with some friends, and in our meandering conversation the Final Judgment came up. Growing up in church, I heard it said over and over that when I stand before God at the Judgment, all of my sins will be broadcast before the world, as if it were on some big-screen TV. I'm not really sure how we've come to such an idea when it's so clear throughout scripture that we who are in Christ have already had our sins dealt with. Indeed, at the heart of justification is law court language pointing straight to the Final Judgment; justification in the present is, essentially, the Final Judgment coming to bear on us in the present. We've already been declared "in the right", and when the Great Judgment comes, the role God's people will have isn't one of standing under judgment, but standing in judgment; that is, we will be on God's side, judging the world and the angels. Our judgment has already been decreed; the judgment we experience will be a judgment for works done in the Spirit, and that judgment will be a broadcasting of our loyalty to Christ and our work in His kingdom, and the sentence passed will be varying degrees of reward depending upon our service to Christ. It's an entirely different schema than the "scare tactics" used to keep young Christians from having sex ("Do you really want all your friends and family to know what you've done?!"). I mention this only because when it comes to the judgment, we who are in Christ have nothing to fear. We are freed to long for judgment, for judgment has, for us, nothing but blessing. This is because our debt has already been paid, and because of Christ, God remembers our sin no more. Far from being a license to "live how we please," meditating on this only strengthens my devotion to Christ and inspires me to live more for him and his glory with each passing day. 

sounds about right

[An Empire in Chaos]

The growth of the American colonies in the 17th and 18th centuries didn't happen in a vacuum; though separated by a vast ocean, what happened in England had great affect on the evolution of life and thought in America. This essay focuses primarily on developments in England proper, with special emphasis on how these events helped shape life in the colonies. The English Civil War, the Commonwealth of England, the Restoration of 1660, and the Glorious Revolution: all of these epic shifts in England, overshadowed by the rise of the Dutch and numerous wars with that growing global power, take center-stage. The series of European wars (with their consequent North American theaters) take up the second half of this essay: the Nine Years War, the War of the Spanish Succession, the War of Jenkins' Ear, and the War of the Austrian Succession. The ousting of the French from the North American continent at the culmination of the French and Indian War sets the stage for twelve years of growing colonial dissent blossoming into bloodshed at the Battle of Lexington & Concord.

An Empire in Chaos by Anthony Barnhart

from Blue Ash

Just because.

In these twilight days of 600 Vine, I've been picking up as many hours as I can at Walk of Joy. After this coming Friday, I won't have any days off until early May (unless the cafe shuts down earlier than that, which is a distinct possibility). Although it's exhausting, I don't mind working so many hours, for three reasons: (a) the extra money will pad my "Wisconsin Fund" quite well, (2) I have a job where I make peoples' lives better, and (3) work is a joy. I find it funny that back when I worked at I.G.A. "in the days of my youth", I would find any and every reason to call off work. Now such a thing is unimaginable to me, and I cover peoples' shifts and work extra hard simply because it's the right thing to do. I don't know if this is a bad thing or not, but I'm proud of my work ethic. I remember an old friend pointing out that the hand of God was seen in Joseph's life as he kept getting more and more work piled on his shoulders; my friend quipped, "God often blesses men and shows them His favor by giving them more work to do." God has indeed blessed me, and He's shown me favor, though I so much don't deserve it. (It's called grace)

I've finished two nonfiction books on The French & Indian War:

The War that Made America and (an unoriginal title) The French & Indian War.

Now I'm starting Allan Eckert's Wilderness Empire.

Guess what it's about? You guessed it! The French & Indian War.

Speculating "What If?" when it comes to history can be fun. After the Treaty of Paris 1763, France retained New Orleans and Louisiana. Since Spain came to France's aid in the war's last moments and ended up losing all sorts of territories and gaining nothing, France threw Spain a bone and gave them Louisiana and New Orleans. About forty years later, Napoleon Bonaparte set his teeth against Spain and convinced them to give Louisiana and New Orleans back. Napoleon, in turn, sold the territory dirt cheap to the burgeoning United States since the Americans were ancy along the Mississippi and wanted to move west. The speculation comes here: during the formulation of the treaty, Great Britain had to give something up to France in order to get back Minorca, the Mediterranean island stronghold France had taken early in the war, an island which largely determined who ruled the Mediterranean Sea. Great Britain desperately wanted the island back, and they knew they'd have to give up either their conquests in Canada or the sugar-rich West Indies. Thus it became a matter of "Do we give up land? Or do we give up trade?" Great Britain decided to return West Indian conquests in order to get Minorca back in their hands. Now: following Great Britain's victorious war, which truly turned them into an empire, the nation found itself HUGELY in debt because of William Pitt's extravagant spending. Great Britain had to start paying on the debt, and so they jacked up taxes not just in England but also in their American colonies (and they did this absent assumed legitimacy from colonial legislatures). Much of the unrest leading to the American Revolution fermented over these taxes; because France had been expunged from the continent, the "check" of New France no longer remained in the picture (when New France had been in Canada, the colonists knew they needed redcoats to protect them from any imperialistic leanings of Catholic France to the north). Thus both colonial unrest over taxes and the absence of the French to the north propelled the colonists to rebellion (this is simplifying it more than a bit, but still...). But, what if Great Britain had chosen to keep their West Indian conquests and hand back Canada? The lucrative sugar trade from the Caribbean could've helped pay back the war debts, perhaps keeping the colonists from being so heavily taxed; and France's presence in Canada would've served as a bulwark against revolution. It may very well be that Great Britain's choice to keep Canada and return to France the West Indian conquests set itself up for revolution. This isn't just my own speculation: even the royal governor of Massachusetts made such a deduction long before war in the colonies broke out.

I'm sure every one of my readers skimmed that paragraph.

That's totally okay: it was more a rambling than anything else.

Mandy may have read it, but just to be nice.

Speaking of the Wisconsinite, I got to see her twice yesterday! IN PERSON! It really is noteworthy. Every time I see her face-to-face, I'm still to this day stricken by her beauty, as if I somehow forgot how beautiful she is. It feels like we've been dating a lot longer than we've technically been together, and I think it's because I've known her for years, and my affection, care, and love is as if we've been together half a decade. Even when we weren't together, even talking about being together, I was more open and honest with her than anyone else, confiding my feelings and fears, opening my life to her, sharing myself with her. Those are all aspects of what "dating" is about, and though we didn't have the title, or the intention of dating, nevertheless we grew close in that way. I think that's why it's so easy for me to talk about marrying her and spending my life with her when we've only been officially together for two months. Marriage isn't something I take lightly, and my exes know me as the one who wouldn't say "I love you", much less talk marriage and children of all things. But with the Wisconsinite, it's an entirely different story.

We're going to be hanging out Thursday.

And Friday.

And Saturday.

And even a little bit Sunday!

I can't wait till we get to hang out every day.

I'm at Blue Ash and my replacement just arrived.

So I'm calling this posts quits.

#ttyl

[books i've been reading]

The French & Indian War doesn’t stand on its own, but is the North American theater of the epic Seven Years War that all but tore the world apart at the seams, taking just under 1.5 million lives in its duration. Samuel Eliot Morison, awed at the Seven Years War’s global scope, remarked, “This should really have been called the First World War.” The Seven Years War would span the globe, comprising four different theaters under their own names: the Pomeranian War (fought in Sweden and Prussia), the Third Carnatic War (fought on the Indian subcontinent), the Third Silesia War (fought in Prussia and Austria), and the French and Indian War (fought in North America). Every major European power took up arms across four continents: North America, Africa, Asia, and Europe. Tensions between the European powers hadn’t been resolved at the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle terminating the last war, and the tensions only broiled. The eruption came in the Pennsylvanian backcountry due to the inexperience and ineptitude of a relatively-unknown Virginian provincial named George Washington.

Because the French had retained Fortress Louisbourg following the conclusion of the War of the Austrian Succession, Great Britain countered its presence by building a fortified town and navy base at Halifax in Nova Scotia. The French countered this move by building two new forts of their own at the mouth of the Bay of Fundy. Simultaneously, to the west beyond the Alleghenies, Virginian land speculators coveted the rich and fertile Ohio River Valley. The colony of Virginia claimed the land belonged to her; New France adamantly insisted the land belonged to them. The land, of course, was already taken by vast numbers of native Americans, and both the French and English wrestled for the benefits of trade with the indigenous peoples. As English traders flooded the Ohio River Valley, the French began erecting new forts in the interior, the biggest being Fort Duquesne at the Forks of the Ohio. The British interpreted this as a French attempt to strangle English trade and stifle British expansion beyond the Alleghenies. In 1754, the governor of Virginia, Robert Dinwiddie, sought to expel the French from the Forks of the Ohio. He sent a small detachment of colonial troops, led by a young George Washington, to force the French to abandon their pet project at Fort Duquesne. Washington blundered by ambushing and wiping out a small French patrol which, as it turns out, was actually a peace envoy en route to deliberate with Washington. Washington, realizing with horror his mistake, retreated with the main French force hot on his heels. He hastily constructed a wooden fort, dubbed Fort Necessity, to try and repel the French assault. The French, aided by their Indian allies, were too much for Washington’s small force, and he had no choice but to surrender, and he did so on July 4^th of 1754. In his capitulation he signed a French document in which he admitted to “assassinating” a French peace diplomat. At this time, such a declaration was a causus belli for war.

Tensions between the European powers had been in delicate limbo since the Treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, and Washington’s blunder in the dark forest of Pennsylvania served as the catalyst for the eruption of the world’s first true world war. The next year, 1755, the British sent troops and supplies across the Atlantic to seize the interior from the French. The British were successful in taking the forts at the head of the Bay of Fundy, and they deported the Acadian French still living in Nova Scotia, hardening the resolve of the sympathetic Canadians. British victory in the north was offset by disaster in the west: an expedition to destroy the French at Fort Duquesne, led by General Edward Braddock, was all but annihilated in an ambush orchestrated by the French and their Indian allies. Braddock lost his life, and Washington took command, executing a hasty but orderly retreat. The expedition had only come within ten miles of Fort Duquesne before being waylaid. Braddock’s defeat emboldened the Shawnee and Lenni Lenape, and these natives began attacking colonial settlements in Virginia, Maryland, and Pennsylvania. The frontier rolled back to within 100 miles of Philadelphia as Indian savagery forced thousands to flee towards the coast to escape the tomahawk and keep their scalps. In 1756, the French captured the British fort on Lake Ontario, and they followed up that victory with another in 1757, seizing the British fort on Lake George.

Thus far Great Britain had been humiliated by the French, and a politician by the name of William Pitt swore he knew how to turn bitter defeat into sweet victory. The English people listened, and he focused on “America First” in the Seven Years’ War, redirecting the bulk of Great Britain’s efforts on ousting the French from North America. His program thrust Great Britain into massive debt, but he was able to turn the tide of war. In 1758, 45,000 British troops (half regulars and half colonial volunteers) set their teeth against 6800 French regulars and 2700 provincials, aided by their Indian allies. The French were even worse off than numbers tell, for the last year had been a bad one for crops, and they were on the brink of starvation; and as Pitt turned Great Britain’s focus onto North America, France expelled her energies on the war in Europe and in protecting her islands in the Caribbean. New France was virtually left on her own, and the war shifted as the spring of 1758 blossomed.

The French at Fort Duquesne were abandoned by their Indian allies. Unable to withstand the massive onslaught of British troops marching their way, the French blew up the fort and fled north. The British rebuilt the fort and renamed it Fort Pitt after William Pitt. That same year the British captured Louisbourg, opening the St. Lawrence for the capture of Quebec in 1759. With Quebec and Louisbourg in the sack, the British marched on Montreal in 1760, and overwhelmed by enemy forces, the Governor-General of New France had no choice but to surrender. The Seven Years War lasted for another three years, but the war in North America had all but reached an end (Indian uprisings following the surrender of their French allies waged on, but the colonists rejoiced knowing France’s grip on the continent had been expelled, and they were confident that nothing but good years lay ahead of them as English subjects). They were right… for a time.

But the war was expensive.

Someone had to pay for it.

And that meant taxes.

missional musings

One of the things I love most about my relationship with the Wisconsinite is how we're striving after being missional. The foundation of our relationship isn't shared interests, our abiding friendship, or even our deep and growing love. The foundation isn't anything as elementary as "feelings" but a shared mission. Our aim, to put it simply, is to reflect God's love in our love for one another; to pursue Christlikeness together; to live not for ourselves but for God's praise and glory; and to advance God's kingdom together in the spheres of life in which He has planted us. Because our relationship is, at the moment, constrained by distance, much of the nitty-gritty details of what this looks like and entails in day-to-day life remain to be explored, but that hasn't kept me (or us) from thinking, praying, and talking about what it will look like. 

At the same time, distance doesn't mean that we can't be missional now: we're not just missional in the fact that we pray together often, but we're missional, too, in that we encourage one another and promote one another in the ministries in which God has placed us. I seek to be a strength and support in her college ministry, and she has been that for me in my work with those with developmental disabilities. My ministry is stronger because she's a part of my life, and that's what you want in a missional relationship.

Mandy and I talk a lot about what we want life to "look like" when I finally get up to Wisconsin. I'm a "list" person, and topping my list of what it looks like, fleshed out, to be a missional couple--now as boyfriend and girlfriend, in the future as fiances, and then in marriage--has some key components. Prayer is a huge one. I'm a big advocate of prayer; I believe in "the power of prayer"--or, rather, in the power of the one to whom we pray. I envision Mandy and I not just praying together like we do now, but taking it to the next level--carving out time to spend together in deep, rich prayer, not just a couple-minute prayer before we go to bed. Hospitality is another big one; I want our future home to be one where people feel welcome, a warm home filled with friendship and laughter. Ministry is another big hitter. I don't know what ministries we'll find ourselves in as the years go by, but no matter where God has us, it's so important to me that we minister together. I'm excited about participating in her college ministry in whatever ways are appropriate, and I expect such participation in ministry to continue throughout our lives. On that note, the first ministry, when we get married, will be to one another; and then to our children; and then, and only then, to "vocational ministry." To invert that order is to transgress the will of God. The foundation of all this, of course, is a relationship centered on Christ; I see us reading scripture together, praying together, growing in Christ together. As the man it's my job (my mission, if you will) to be the forerunner in all this, and I'm excited to take on those responsibilities.

It all sounds very beautiful.

And it really is beautiful. 

But it won't be easy.

It'll be hard as hell.

Temptations will come at us. The world will try to throw us off course. Our own selfishness and sin will get in the way. Relationships expose our selfishness, our sin, the evil in our hearts. Mandy and I have both seen this. I study Ephesians 5, I envision my future life with Mandy in Wisconsin, I see the ideal and strive after it. I've always known the skeletal ins-and-outs of what it means for a husband to die to himself for his wife, but I've never been excited about it, at least not until Mandy came into the equation. I'm not excited about 'dying to myself'; I'm excited about serving and sacrificing for Mandy and her well-being. I know such death to self will be hard. It'll often be the last thing I want to do. And sometimes, lots of times, I won't do it, because of my selfishness and sin. I know this from experience: I fail all the time. I choose the wrong thing. And at such times I have no recourse but to confess my sin to God and repent.

A missional relationship isn't characterized most by praying together, reading scripture together, or even ministering together. These things are all great, they're wonderful, but there are so many Christian relationships where these things are present, but where the mission has been lost; and the reason is because of a lack of forgiveness and godly love. I'll sin against Mandy. She'll sin against me. And when that happens (not "if," but when), we mustn't hold grudges, we mustn't declare our innocence, we mustn't even pretend everything's okay. There needs to be confession and repentance. And a good dose of forgiveness. Therein lies one of the greatest pillars of a Christ-centered relationship that glorifies God and reflects His love to the world. To fail on that account is, quite simply, to fail.

03/16/14

On Sunday afternoons I've been going to parks around the city. Today's park: Mount Echo! I used to frolic there like a young deer in the days of my youth. The trails and views have become caked in memories, some good, others not so good. This afternoon I walked around in the chilly wind, snapping pictures on my IPhone and mulling over today's sermon at University Christian Church.

Anthony J. talked about the "privatization" of faith in American Christianity. The trumpeting of a "personal relationship with Jesus" has come at the expense of Christian community. The church has become peripheral at best and supplementary at worst. Sunday services or involvement in a church community is seen, in practice, as an "add on" to Christian faith. Christian community isn't to be religious theater, and the real grit and grime of the Christian life comes in community: carrying one another and being carried by others as we slug out what it means to be devoted to God in a world that has set its teeth against Him. 

The privatization of faith has, in its own way, made the litmus test of faith either (a) emotional feelings, or (b) intellectual prowess. We measure who has the most faith by these two standards: "Do I feel God's love for me? Do I feel a passion for Jesus? Do I feel Christ's forgiveness?" and "Have I thought this through? Can I make a good argument for my beliefs? Do I know why I believe what I do?" I've never really been "emotive" in my faith (emoticons aren't present in my written prayers); my devotion to God hasn't been founded on the way God's love makes me feel. I've always been more intellectual in my faith, and in rightly pointing out the flaws of using feelings as a litmus test for faith, I've been guilty of placing a breed of intellectualism in its place. Being an analytical and skeptical person, it irks me when people believe something but don't know why they believe it; such "irk" in my bones comes from my own predisposition and innerworkings rather than from an appreciation of genuine faith. The real litmus test for faith (the one put forth by Jesus and the Apostles) is obedience, endurance, and faithfulness over the long haul. How ones feels (or thinks) in the midst of that isn't the crux of faith.

A man who is brought to tears in worship, who feels a stirring in his heart at the name of Jesus, who feels the consolation of the Spirit in his prayers, but who doesn't live obediently before God, who doesn't even attempt to do so, has far less faith than the man who's seen as emotionally detached but who pursues conformity to Christ over every other pursuit. Likewise, the woman who can articulate her beliefs with poignancy and elegancy, who can demolish the arguments lifted against Christ's name, who can wow the masses with her intellect, but who clings to pride and refuses to surrender aspects of her life to Christ, has far less faith than the woman who pursues Jesus with everything she has but who can't tell you the names of the twelve disciples or expound on trinitarian theology. 

The point of all this: when we come before God on the Day of Judgment, he won't ask us what books we've read, how well we learned, or how much we felt; he will ask us, "Did you obey?" That is the crux of faith, to the point that faith and obedience are inseparable. You can't have one without the other. Faith absent obedience isn't faith at all, but an emotive concoction in the brain or a mental consent to a body of facts, theories, ideas and concepts. When Jesus looks upon his followers and says, "Well done, good and faithful servants," he won't be saying that based on our feelings or intellect, but upon how we lived our lives--did we truly surrender ourselves to him, truly devote ourselves to him, truly seek to obey him? One can have all the "marks" of the faith but lack true faith, as Jesus makes clear in the gospels; many will be surprised when Jesus says, "I never knew you," because they were convinced all along that they knew him and were known by him. There is a warning in this, a warning we would do well to heed. 

[sunday meditations]

1 PETER 1.13

Therefore, preparing your minds for action, and being sober-minded, set your hope fully on the grace that will be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ.

All that St. Peter has written up to this point isn’t profitable merely for those whose interests are stirred in Christian eschatology. Peter isn’t writing to instruct but to remind, and he is writing to remind the Asian Christians so that they can live within the scope and framework of the Christian hope. The first step, obviously, is an act of the mind: putting the Christian hope at the forefront of one’s thinking. This is, essentially, what Peter says here. Using the connective, transitional word “therefore,” Peter is linking what he says here to all that has come before, and he is pointing back to verses 3-12 and demanding that the Christians fully set their hopes on future grace. This “future grace” isn’t so much a technical term as a blanket-term: future grace envelops all of Christian eschatology involving God’s people. The grace that Christians are to experience is precisely resurrection from the dead, glorification, and inheriting a new heavens and new earth—all which will happen at the revelation of King Jesus.

Depending on your translation, this verse reads several different ways. Some translations render all the Greek verbs here as imperatives (i.e. commands); however, the only imperative in the Greek text is, as the E.S.V. recognizes, the command to hope. That is what Peter demands that the Christians do. Preparing the mind for action and being sober-minded aren’t commands but descriptions of what this kind of hope looks like. It’s a description of how a Christian is to hope in future grace, and the two hinges upon which this hope swings are girding up the loins (the Greek is preserved in older translations; in more modern translations, such as we find here, the Greek phrase is rendered as “preparing the mind for action” or something along those lines) and being sober-minded. Both of these descriptors of hope shine the light towards what the Christian hope looks like in practice.

The Greek phrase about girding loins is lost on us 21^st-Century westerners. The language drew forth in its original hearers an image of men in long robes running full-speed ahead. Because the long robes would cause runners to trip, men would tuck their robes into their belts so that they could move faster without stumbling about (they would “gird” their loins). This phrase works on two levels. On one level, it speaks directly to the Christian duty of moving forward, advancing God’s kingdom, running the race set before us. Athletic imagery is common in the New Testament (since sports were as much a big deal, if not more-so, to ancient Greeks and Romans as they are to us today), and this phrase, while not explicitly athletic in nature, would echo such ideas. On another level, the language echoes the Passover narrative in Exodus 12. During the night of God’s final plague on Egypt, the Israelites smeared their doors with lambs’ blood. Once they were redeemed by the blood (the Passover story is where this language originates, and Peter will return to this in 1 Peter 1.19), the Israelites were ready to follow their God into the wilderness till he brought them to their inheritance (a familiar word: see 1.4). The inheritance was the Promised Land, the Land of Canaan, a land characterized by abundant food and resources (overflowing with milk & honey), and the Israelites needed to be dressed and ready to move.

It’s easy to miss out on the biblical echoes, and the echo of Passover is difficult to ascertain on first glance. However, when it is understood, the text comes alive: Christians, who have similarly been washed by the blood of the lamb (1.19), are to gird their loins just as the ancient Israelites did, so that they’ll be ready to launch into their inheritance, the new heavens and new earth (1.4). The universe is caught in tension between Easter and Consummation, between Egypt (enslavement) and the Promised Land (ultimate freedom). Christian hoping isn’t just sitting back and waiting for things to happen; it has about it the nature of preparedness, of anticipation, of longing and yearning, of being ready to go at a moment’s notice. It is an energized, purposeful, and active hoping.

Peter describes Christian hoping as a hope marked with a sober mind. Being sober-minded doesn’t refer to abstaining from alcohol; rather, it’s a metaphor, drawing upon alcoholic intoxication. When a person becomes drunk, his or her senses and perceptions are distorted, blurred, thrown off-kilter. Self-control becomes a laughable concept. In opposition to this, Christian hoping is to be marked by diligence, self-control, keeping the senses sharp and the perception even sharper. It may sound easy to do, but it’s quite easy to drift away into a dream-like state, not dissimilar from intoxication, where we focus on pleasure, career, and selfish pursuits over against God’s kingdom. It’s easy to cling to these things as if they were drugs, and to drink of them so deeply that our senses are dulled and our perceptions blunted. It isn’t difficult to lose focus. Christian hoping, however, must be focused; and it’s to be so focused that it’s marked by diligence and self-control in both thought and behavior: such a person monitors not just his or her actions but also his or her thoughts, worldviews, and perceptions. This focused hope leads to a focused life; such diligence of the mind results in a life that is markedly different from those manners of living which characterize life informed and consumed by the present evil age.

Carillon Park

of jumanji, nuclear war, and velociraptors

Guess what I'm watching right now?

Yup, you guessed it: Jumanji.

Are YOU game?!

The "word on the street" (or, rather, in the backroom) is that the cafe where I've sold my soul for the past three years will be closing in less than two months. No official word has come from the owner, but the rumor-giver is pretty knowledgeable and trustworthy, and there are too many consistent "little" details to make me think it's any sort of fabrication. In lieu of this I've been picking up hours left and right to try and make up for the hours I'm going to lose. In one day alone, much thanks to God, I was able to pick up at the least three extra shifts. Best case scenario is the cafe not closing, leaving me working like a madman over the next several months. I wouldn't mind the extra boost in income, and work really is a joyful experience for me, even if I feel exhausted at the end of the day. 

Remember that movie Flying Wild?

The one about the girl who teaches geese how to fly?

I've seen the preview like six times in a row just now.

I wouldn't mind seeing that movie again.

In a previous post I wrote about how I'm sort of stretching myself thin when it comes to "intellectual" pursuits. I'm not Benny Franklin, and such stretching only adds extra stress in my life. I've decided to cut some things out. At the top of the list? Rehashing Greek. I've enjoyed it, but the stress of trying to comprehend the Pauline epistles in one go is just too much. With that added weight off my shoulders, I already feel a bit more... relaxed. I'd still like to return to it at a later date (and if I end up getting my M.Div, that'll be a cherished, albeit excruciating, part of it), but for the moment I'm going to content myself with my ongoing studies in 1 Peter, my studies through the life of Christ, and essays on "colonial America", which I intend to dovetail into a series of "narrative histories" of the major battles of the American Revolution.

I'm such a dork. Like... seriously.

And I'm okay with it.

"Hey, Guys, I like to study even when I'm not in school!"

(I was quoting Ams' mockery of me)

Ams and Mandy H. came by the Hobbit Hole today. Since I'm working so much and quite literally don't have time to do my laundry, Ams offered to do my laundry at her place; I took her up on the offer, and the two of them came over from Bakewell, and we drank Rhinegeist Truth and sprawled out on the sofa and laughed hysterically like we always do. Mandy is heading out to Portland next month--like only a couple weeks from now--and we're going to have a "going-away" party before they go. I don't know how much of a party it will be. Maybe "party" isn't the best word. Get-together? Yeah, that's the word I'm looking for. With how much I'm working, just a "get-together" is a notable experience. Even this thirty minute get-together was somehow notable enough to make it to my blog.

Have you ever seen the movie Alaska?

The one about the kids and the ice and the polar bear?

No, me neither. And I don't plan on it.

Never give up! the boy wails. Never!

I'm betting the trailer's synopsis was as detailed as the movie itself.

The Wisconsinite is in Cincinnati this week, doing missions work down on State Avenue. I have a play-by-play of their activities through a schedule she sent me. Am I following along hour-to-hour? Yup, sure am. I may get to see her for a bit Monday after work (yep, I picked up a shift on my one day off each week; say hello to hell), and Thursday evening we're doing dinner with my parents, and Friday we're doing lunch with Ams, and Friday evening we're having a "romantic dinner" of sorts. I'm super looking forward to it, all of it, but mostly just looking forward to being with her in the same state and time zone and house and room. It'll be pretty great. LDRs sure do have their sucky moments--but they make "reunions" that much sweeter. Not that my girlfriend needs any help being sweeter, but, you know what I'm saying.

This post went REAL sappy REAL quick.

To assuage my readers, here's a picture of two things that terrify me:

nuclear war, and a world filled with velociraptors.