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one of my favourite things about having a blog is the ability to see comments people leave me. have no fear! if you leave a comment it will still eventually appear. unfortunately, due to mass advertising i now have to moderate my comments, so your wise and profound thoughts won't appear untill i have a chance to read them. but they will appear! i also had to take down the sidebar comments form because it was causing pop-up ads, and no one likes pop-ups except if it's a pop-up children's book. those are still pretty cool, but i wasn't able to integrate a pop-up children's book into my site.

poster-boy keith

In case you're interested, the Dominican University College has included my photo a few times on their new website at www.collegedominicain.ca. To see the pics, go to admissions or cost of studies or student association (there's a couple of other places too) and wait for a second for the image on the right to change. You should then see my happy mug peering out of the screen at you. It's pretty glamorous, I know, but I'll try not to let it go to my head :)

Average

6 out of 10 was the average of the German quiz I received back today. 60%. Apparently that's a fairly average mark for a language class; according to my professor. I've never thought of myself as average. Generally I'm a bit over par when it comes to schoolwork, but today it was there, staring me in the face. Keith Dow is average.  

Incidentally, three out of the four marks I lost were mis-translations of the word "Teil" or "part." Where the sentences contained "Teile," which is plural, I mistook for "Teil," one singular part. The truth is, I don't like thinking of myself as one part among many. I recognize that I am a part; there is no way to avoid this in being distinct in the world. I merely fail to make the necessary connection that there are numerous other parts; that I am not as distinct or unique as I sometimes would like to think I am.  

One of the things that I most enjoy doing, and that which I've occasionally received compliments about, is writing. I enjoy language and expressing my thoughts; apparently, though, my mind doesn't work in such a way so as to easily grasp languages. Greek was my first indication of this, as my friends quickly shot ahead of me in marks when second semester came around. Now I'm finding German a challenge. It's discouraging to realize that perhaps even those gifts we think we have are not as profound as we once thought.  

As I stepped on the dingy bus, filled with people I'd never know and whose lives would never touch mine more than a passing glance, I saw as though for the first time the shadow of insignificance that haunts each of us.  

The Possibility of Possibilities 

 I've never been one to stop dreaming. We live in a passionless age, one where the idea of an infinite universe dwarfs any step our finite feet might take, but each of us hang onto some thread of identity that somehow makes each further step possible and every action significant; if only for ourselves. Indeed, in an empirical sense the most we will ever be able to be is dying dirt. Our bodies break down a little more each day as entropy takes its toll, and the accumulation of worldly wealth we gather is no more than a grain of sand on a freckle on the backside of the world. Even the effort we invest with our whole life in building something of significance will soon be forgotten. The people we affect will die, and the memory of our interaction on this earth - for good or for evil - will quickly be forgotten. Even the greatest men in history are now no more than an empty shell of who they were; a name, an image, or an accomplishment. The monuments we establish will do no more than bear our hollow name until they are torn down to be replaced by another monument, of someone whose name will be forgotten just as quickly as ours. Emily Dickinson wrote the poem "I dwell in possibility:"

I dwell in Possibility A fairer House than Prose— More numerous of Windows— Superior - —for Doors— Of Chambers as the Cedars— Impregnable of Eye And for an Everlasting Roof The Gambrels of the Sky— Of Visitors - —the fairest— For Occupation - —This— The spreading wide of narrow Hands To gather Paradise—

I don't know the first thing about the Emily Dickinson, except that apparently she was a bit kooky. I don't like how many hyphens she uses. If B. F. Skinner were here, he'd definitely skin her. Ha. He would say that there's no use talking about possibility because there really is no such thing as an autonomous man. Being products of our environments, possibility is nothing but the future effects of environmental necessity. Even the chemicals in our brain that we perceive to be the idea of possibility are a direct result of our environment and their explanation could be found in a purposeless event that happened three years ago. 

If you're not into the atheistic types, perhaps you'd prefer Spinoza. He'd say that it's emotionally enslaving to talk about ourselves as being free as modes of God in a world that must necessarily be entirely determined by God, so anything we do is completely out of God's necessity. He and Calvin could have some interesting discussions. Oh, and Spinoza would add that the God we think is God really isn't because we essentially make Him in our own image, projecting our desire for the world to run according to our wishes onto Him and so say that He orchestrates everything for our benefit. 

I'm sure Freud would jump in here (although he and Spinoza would probably kill each other) and add that our perception of God stems from prehistoric man and tribal rituals and our idea of God as Father finds its roots in repressed sexual urges and as a religious community we make up invisible metaphysical concepts in order to keep one another in line and to abate the guilt that comes from our carnal instincts and subconscious passions. 

The experiences we have here on earth and the knowledge of how the world operates truly do seem to back up our insignificance. From this standpoint, any empirical way you look at it, we don't really accomplish much being down here. In fact, if the end or telos of each one of us is death, then wouldn't we be best fulfilling our purpose if we just died?  

Beyond Possibility  

Strangely enough, there are still a lot of people living out there. I saw a bunch of them on that bus. Many of them had their heads down and didn't look too happy. Not many were smiling. They were all pretty average. A lot of them were ugly. I don't think many of them were good at sports. A lot looked like they'd be pretty dumb, too. Even the ugliest, dumbest brutes of them all, though, were still alive. Apparently there's something in the human spirit that hangs on regardless of empirical data. Each silly person still hung onto the dream of their identity; the dream that they were making a bit of a difference in the world somehow, to someone. Some were obviously closer to realizing that their lives wouldn't make much of a difference than others, but even they still hung on. 

One of my favourite bands is Dogwood. You've probably never heard of them, and you might not ever hear of them again unless it's from me. Their first albums were probably the worst music ever made, and some people find his voice horrible. I think his voice is tremendous in a rough and non-singing sort of way. Here's a song of theirs called 1983:
 

When we were kids, our dreams were invincible,
When we were young, our whole lives ahead of us,
And it was well understood we'd all become astronauts,
And firemen,

Let's not pretend, we all become famous,
Let's not pretend, there's more to this then we hoped for,
For we knew the rules when we were still children,
You blow it,
You fail it,
Disappointment.

It's well on it's way, well understood,
And you have a place, to be (when we were young),
Time on our hands,
Still out of our hands, just like rain (it rained so hard),
Time ran away, and left us afraid,

Your parents are proud,
You've got everything,
No passion at hand,
You'll be Ivy League,
It's more probable,
We all become salesmen,
You know it,
You fear it,
Mediocrity.

It's well on it's way, well understood,
And this is your life,
Don't apoligize for what you are,
Because you're a star.

I hope you find contentment,
I pray you find an answer,
'cause life is better than your occupation,
Revelation.

When we (when we were young) were,
Time on our hands,
Still out of our hands,
Just like rain (it rained so hard)
Time ran away, and left us afraid.

Sometimes I sense the fear they sing about. The fear of mediocrity and disappointment. At these times I cannot dwell in possibility. I can long to dwell in possibility, but I can't dwell there. As an eternal refuge it's far too destructable. If possibility were my only guide, I would have fallen off the cliff a long time ago. Gravity, as the nature of everything to fall down and to fall in upon itself, would have cast me off the heights before I had even looked for a place to dwell. Empirically I know my possibility is limited. There are a few people in my life who see possibility in me, and their support is the foundation of almost all possibilities that have been realized in my life. Even during those times when I realize how much possibility will fail to come to fruition in my life they help me to aim for the potential that is there.

Where I Dwell 

Through the most empirical times, though, when not even their cheers make it onto the court of reality and any confidence I had in personal significance was long ago abandoned, there are still Arms that hold me. The psalmist writes,

"He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High Shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty" -Psalm 91:1

This is where I ultimately dwell; not in possibility but in the secret place of Yahweh, the Great I Am. He is the First and the Last, and He knows all that I have been, all that I am, and all that I ever will be. In Him I am not merely one of many indistinguishable Teile, for I am a Teil of His family and He has led me, Keith Dow, to His secret place and has hidden me under His mighty shadow. I know that in Him who has no need to simplify everything that I am finds its roots and grows. While I am here on earth He enables me to dwell both in His secret place and in possibility. To the human mind these are unreconcilable, for the one who abides under the shadow of the Almighty is he who has abandoned Self; who has given up all hope of ever achieving anything on his own, who has shunned the illusion of possibility. With man this is impossible, but with God nothing is impossible. The last shall be first and His strength is made perfect in my weakness. Through Him who is able to do more than we can ask or imagine, I find the weakness to let Him work His strength through me. Does the shadow of insignificance still haunt my every step?  Looking into the light of Christ's victory, I pray that my life will fade away, so that His life might shine through me all the more clearly. 

The Ultimate Test

I had a German test on Friday. It's only another couple of days until I find out how terribly I actually did on it. The problem is, teachers never mark tests according to our humanity. They don't say "Keith, there were a few things that need to be worked on but I'm sure you'll have them down by next time." No, they mark us like machines. You are and always will be 7.5 out of 10. This particular quiz mark will never change. There is no next time for this one. You cannot improve. 

It's the same idea as a SIN number; the system gives you one number, and that number is you to them. The name "Keith" is flexible enough to encompass my varying fluctuations and to allow for improvement or decline on my part yet particular and specific enough that when people hear my name they are able to point me out in a crowd. A number, on the other hand, is absolute. In a closed all-encompassing system, a number represents a specific point which will never be different than it is. 

That's one of the reasons I liked home schooling. I never had tests. Upon entering high-school, though, my marks were the best they've ever been. My mom and dad were able to gauge where I was at and what I needed to work on. They didn't need to simplify my progress to a easily-comprehensible integer in order to help my academic achievement. 

God doesn't need to simplify us to be able to fit us into His system, either. Throughout our life we don't receive various report cards from heaven, defining absolutely how much less than perfect we actually are. True importance has never been found in the law; God has always been more concerned with mercy than sacrifices. 

In the same way, our position at a specific point is never written in stone for eternity. In the ministry of redemption, God's Spirit is always at work in our lives to lead us to the Rock that is higher than ourselves. Given, there will come a time when we will stand before our Lord and be called to give an account for everything done in the flesh, but as Christians we are assured that what stands between us and perfection will be burned away as wood, hay, or straw. We will be left with that which is beautiful and that which lasts. 
 
God in a Box 

Strangely, although we know that God deals with us with incomprehensible love and grace, we often try to approach Him systematically in order to put Him within our reach. The Israelites tried to fully understand who God is by making images out of Him. The golden calf incident is one of many such attempts. No wonder the second commandment forbids making an idol in the form of anything, because there is nothing that can make God entirely comprehensible to our senses or intellect. 
  In modernity, we try to reduce God to a series of propositions that we call doctrine in order to try and His entirety in a closed system of reason. Kant made a distinction between what we can know concerning the physical, empirical world and what we believe concerning the metaphysical realm. This is a distinction that is quickly pushed aside by Christians, because it casts doubt on our ability to know anything empirically about God. However, this distinction must be seriously considered by Christian theologians because it has led to the division of Christian thought. On one side are those who try to reduce God to scientific certainty through empirical. On the other side are those who try to exclude God from the realm of reason so that we can comprehend Him by not having to think rationally about Him. With God as a far-removed metaphysical concept, there is no need to let His empirical truth transform our lives. This is closely related to the Absentee-Gardener syndrome, where we push God further and further back into metaphysics until He is no longer a significant part of our physical existence. 
 
Travesties of Presentation 

The problems with the way we present God to ourselves and others don't merely reside within the realm of thought and reason. They concern the relation of reason, body/emotion, and spirit. One blatant example of such a tragedy is when one attempts to override a person’s intellectual blocks to God by an emotional experience. This is why hyped-up religious events yield little lasting fruit. Eventually everyone will calm down enough to hear the intellectual objections they had before. Another travesty is in trying to overcome perceived experiential problems that people have with God by reason. If someone feels that God allowed someone close to them to die for no good reason, preaching abstract doctrines isn’t going to incline their mind towards the truth. Just as Jesus both came in flesh and was a fulfillment of the law and the prophets, so people need to see flesh-and-blood examples of a Christ-filled life as well as hear the life-giving words of the gospel message.  

Underlying each of these travesties, though, is the assumption that by the communication of our own emotion or intellect we may single-handedly introduce a person to Christ. It is only the Spirit of God that can bring someone to the place where they meet Christ. When it comes to spiritual matters, no earthly convincing will cause someone to cross over from death to life. At that time of a person’s journey, the intellect can take no further step. The spiritual is beyond the realm of the intellectual. 

The intellect can choose to believe that either Christ was fully God or Christ was fully man, but it cannot rationally choose to believe that Christ is both God and man apart from brain-death, insincerity, misunderstanding, or truly taking on the mind of Christ which transcends human logic and must be preceded by spiritual renewal. It is no wonder that only those spirits who acknowledge that Jesus has come in the flesh are from God. 

Conversely, while emotion can convince a person to say that they believe in Christ, it cannot actually take the step to belief. Just as the intellect is caught between human logic and divine logic, in being unable to empirically perceive God the sensual soul is caught between the tragedies observed every day and the beauty of God’s creation. Based only on constantly changing empiricism the soul could never absolutely decide that God is a God of love and not hate.  

The Un-markable Test 

Ultimately, the mystery of Christ’s love can only be entered into by taking the nail-pierced hand of Christ Himself as he dies on the cross. It is only by dying in this way in faith that one may come to knowing His resurrection; that one may cross over from death to life and come to know true life in Christ. It is only through meeting God the Absolute in the frailty of the finite through the meekness of his weakness on the cross of Christ that we are able, through God's grace, to become heirs of the eternal and to pass the ultimate test: do you know My Son? Knowing Christ, even then, is not a quantitative fact of the intellect or a qualitative intuition of the heart, but is an experience that transcends all known experience through the mystery of His Spirit.

Selling your Soul on Ebay 101

As some of you know, it wasn't long ago that that my car was broken into and the culprit ran off with my CD/MP3 CD player. At the time I was quite happy about how I handled it. My roommate's car had been broken into that night as well so I had a foreboding feeling that mine had too. So, when I found that it had, indeed, been broken into and my CD player was gone, I wasn't completely unprepared. In fact, I was quite relaxed about the whole thing. 

At first I think it was out of a genuine unattachment and the feeling that the situation was out of my control. It wasn't long, though, until I transformed this loss into an opportunity to upgrade to an all-out MP3 player. Now I realize that, instead of turning to God in this situation that was out of my control, I turned it into an opportunity to assert my dominance over a world - and ultimately a God - that (Who) can't be controlled.  

My attitude reminds me of the United States in their insistence on rebuilding the World Trade Center towers - this time with the "Freedom tower," measuring 1,776 feet. When the original Twin Towers were built they measured approximately 1360 feet each. At that time they were the tallest buildings on earth. Wikipedia reports that at a press conference revealing these landmarks, the architect Minoru Yamasaki was asked: "Why two 110-story buildings? Why not one 220-story building?" His response was: "I didn't want to lose the human scale." Apparently this time they're looking beyond the 'human scale.'  

In my own desire to control beyond a human scale, I ended up ordering an iPod Mini on eBay. Thankfully it wasn't 1.5-2 billion dollars, but to this poor widow it was certainly comparable. As soon as the screen read "you are the highest bidder," it hit me that here I was, the rich young ruler. 

We all know that one can not serve two masters, God and mammon. Yet I imagine that you, like I, have found a way to excuse yourself from the demands of Christ on your finances, on my life. You are not the subject of this investigation, however, for I am the first to blame and at this moment feel like the worst of sinners. The terrible thing is, I feel that I'm leaving disheartened with the young man, bound and trapped by my great wealth. You see, far too often I'm a creature dominated by my passions. I see the new zip-up hoodie at the Gap and I begin to lust after it. We may describe it as 'wanting,' but is there really much of a difference when it comes to an eternal perspective on the treasures of earth? The Best Buy catalogue shows up in our house and it's not much different than a dirty magazine. "Man, look at the size of that screen!" It sounds crude and vulgar, but I certainly don't think it's much of a stretch. 

You see, passions master us. It doesn't matter what the passion is; if it's not firmly rooted in God then it masters us. The etymology of "passion" comes from the same root as "passive" in Latin, to be affected by, to undergo, to be acted upon. When we talk about something we're passionate about we might say "it moved me." What is it that is acting upon us, that is mastering us, when we gaze longingly in shop windows or at the latest ad? It certainly isn't our Heavenly Father. So I find myself in the same position as the rich young man. Selling all that I have and giving the money to the poor to gain treasure in heaven isn't something I'm prepared to do right now. Or right now. Or right now. 

I'm counting on God's imimpossibility to bring me to eternal life, as I sit here feeling as out of place in my adherence to Christ as a camel in the eye of a needle. I know we don't have long here. We're just passing through. I pray, though, that Christ's kenosis (emptying himself) will begin to wear off on me so that I might arrive in heaven and not feel the flames nipping my heels. I pray, Lord, that in you and your power I will act as you have called me to. Right now. Right now. Right now...

smelly things

remember those scratch-and-sniff things? of course they still exist, but i haven't smelled one in a while. now all we have are those horrid cardboard car scents: those leaves of aesthetic tragedy. the one i'm thinking of has a strawberry scent. it might have been strawberry shortcake - that little red-headed girl with strawberries painted all over her ginormous hat, a hat ten times the size of her head. this reminds me of those markers you can buy that smell, too, often like berries of some sort. i can remember the blueberry ones the best.

which scents do you remember? 

when Jodi and i (and sometimes Justin, Dan, Kaia or some other participant) would take empty milk jugs and stealthily place them on Mark Vust's doorstep (our Resident Director), i would sometimes smell the rotting milk. it didn't smell good. i'll give you that. but it was certainly a powerful scent.

smelling things reminds me of how much i love life. like when i'm in a forest and the scent of fall is in the air. there is an excitement to reality that can be forgotten amongst the drab de-odourized or fake-smellified places we live in. hardly anyone bakes bread anymore. touch, sight and sound are senses I use all the time. i'm usually expecting taste when it occurs. scent, though - it's usually so unexpected. it wakes me up to the wonder of the world around me, dragging me out of introverted thoughts and thrusting my earthly body with all its perceptions into the yet-beautiful remnant of the Garden of Eden.

squeaky

this left shoe of mine is very squeaky today.  his brother glides quietly along the polished floors, polite and well-behaved, as though lost in profound meditation in these silent monk corridors, while he obnoxiously shouts echoing obcenities at passers-bye that have the ill-fortune to be in the wake of yet another disrupting college student.

Thoughts from Kant

"In order to reach God, freedom, and immortality, speculative reason must use principles that in fact extend merely to objects of possible experience; and when these principles are nonetheless applied to something that cannot be an object of experience, they actually do always transform it into an appearance, and thus they declare all practical expansion of reason to be impossible. I therefore had to annul knowledge in order to make room for faith."  

Dogmatism in metaphysics: "Encourages them (youth) quite early and strongly to reason with ease about things of which they understand nothing and into which, moreover, neither they nor anyone else in the world will ever have any insight"

Warning: this post may change your life!

Today I received this envelope in the mail. It says on it "Opening this envelope may change your life!" My first reaction was "Yeah right. Whatever." Of course I didn't think it would for a moment. Then I realized just how wrong my perception was. Unconsciously I was thinking "I mean, it would be nice if it changed my life, but it's really not going to," instead of "If this was true, it would be the worst thing that could happen to me!" I'll let Paul elucidate: 

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love he predestined us to be adopted as his sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will-- to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves. In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God's grace that he lavished on us with all wisdom and understanding. And he made known to us the mystery of his will according to his good pleasure, which he purposed in Christ, to be put into effect when the times will have reached their fulfillment--to bring all things in heaven and on earth together under one head, even Christ. In him we were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of his will, in order that we, who were the first to hope in Christ, might be for the praise of his glory. And you also were included in Christ when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation. Having believed, you were marked in him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit, who is a deposit guaranteeing our inheritance until the redemption of those who are God's possession--to the praise of his glory" (Ephesians 1:3-14).

Wow. To think that we have been blessed with every spiritual blessing in Christ. He had given us anything we could possibly need! Not only that, but "If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!" (2 Cor. 5:17). Sure, there are things in my life that I know need to be changed, but they need to be taken back to who I already am in Christ, so it's not as much a life change as it is a living up to what I have already obtained (Philippians 3:16). The media bombards us with messages telling us that we need to change, that we are insufficient and that they have what we need. For only $29.99, I can have the life I've always wanted. Consumerism thrives on discontentment. These are Satan's lies, which influence my thinking far too much. The truth is that we have been given everything of value in Christ, but even now the Father of Lights does not stop sending down every good and perfect gift from His infinite storehouse. Every day, if our eyes are open, we realize that we have been given more than we can comprehend. We are everything in Christ and have been given everything through Him, and yet still God's mercies and compassion are poured out with each new day (La 3:23). If there are any changes to be made, it will be Christ at work in me, for His love renews me day by day. In the meantime I'll praise Him for the innumerable blessings He has poured out on me.

New Every Morning Every day is a fresh beginning, Listen my soul to the glad refrain. And, spite of old sorrows And older sinning, Troubles forecasted And possible pain, Take heart with the day and begin again. -Susan Coolidge

self-destruction might be the answer

so reads the cover to fight club, the movie of a man who meets someone who he thinks is everything he wants to be only to find out that someone is his worst nightmare and that someone is himself. 

you see, on this globe there will always be a part of us which is that someone we once thought we wanted to be only to find out that he is everything we have grown to hate. that demon within started feeding with the first forbidden fruit and hasn’t stopped feasting since. he has grown oh so fat that one is scarcely able to step around him upon encountering oneself, especially in a culture worshipping self-indulgence and painless existence. the fattest demons are those who use the lie that alcohol will make them disappear. they are the ones that command constant drink or else their dictatorship is too painfully real. 

in the Christian’s life, such rulers have been cast out by the throne of grace. all-too-frequently, however, the empty hole where they used to be still resembles their form to the extent that they are able to press close to the believer and whisper their commands through the shadow where they used to reign. 

this is the old man. this is Satan’s treachery. this is true destruction. the only way to purge such evil is to self-destruct the bloated shadow of the demon once there. to, step by step and little by little, allow the burning light of Christ to incinerate all mastering passions until their ashes are blown out by the wind of new direction. 

otherwise one is left fighting between two masters. for hours on end. one moment the light will speak, declaring a new beginning, a fresh start, a burial of past regrets and planting of new seeds. the next moment the whispering demon will say he’s going to end it all. you will not see me again. this is my last day on earth. if i must go, so will he. i will cut his wrists and you see that evil prevails. 

there is pain in every chance to start again. it will seem as though a friend is betraying you. as though Christ himself had turned on the you you thought you wanted to be. in the moment, you do not realize this is the you of your nightmares. it was one of your only friends, your close companion who had called these strangers to lead away in handcuffs. you may curse him who brought you there, denying you ever knew the one you had once cared about so dearly. at the moment, with the darkness of the demon pressing close upon you, with his drunken stupor hanging over you like a cloud, you do not see that it was love that forced you to the place of healing. 

every day we make decisions. these decisions are the choice between life and death, blessings and curses. to take the narrow way and the yoke, the cross of suffering and the pain of death, or to choose the broad road, the life of ease and painless existence. with the acceptance of living death – death to self – there comes life everlasting. that is true courage: to face every day despite the pain. the way the darkness told you was courageous, the path you thought lead to life, only ends in torment. it seemed so easy, yet when you hit it you will never return. redemption seems so hard, but its yoke is light because the weight has already been carried. 

you may die, my friend. you might make that choice. you are the only one who make this choice, even though the demons whisper that they control you. you may live, though, for God has provided a way of life no matter what temptation you face. 

after you have done everything, if you stand, you will receive a crown of glory that outshines the sun. my Lord’s victory has been sealed. death’s darkness has been driven out by the light of life. your talons may snatch one or two sheep on the way down, Satan, but your fate is sealed, and one day soon you will meet the lamb you killed who rose a Lion, who will tear you limb from limb. 

I am redeemed. I will face pain, and I will have to fight through all of life, but I am redeemed. there is no power that can separate me from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus my Lord, and one day I will stand with him in victory. on that day, death will be forgotten as the dance of life everlasting begins, and there will be no sorrow there. on that day, the murdered Son of God will crush the serpent under his feet for the all time and death will be killed by the power of the indestructible Life, a life which I will share for eternity – a life I began living the day I met my Lord and a life that I will live in full upon beholding Him face to Face.

Proving God

"When one grows older, everything becomes so miserable. God in heaven has to sit and wait for the decision on his fate, whether he exists, and finally he comes into existence with the help of a few demonstrations; human beings have to put up with waiting for the matter to be decided... Youth understands immediately that there is a God."  

"There was a thinker who became a hero by his death; he said that he could demonstrate the existence of God with a single straw. Let the thinker keep his demonstration; give youth the straw-it cannot demonstrate. But why is demonstration necessary at all when one has the straw and-God! When one grows older, along comes the demonstration, and the demonstration is a prominent traveler whom all look upon with admiration."  

-Soren Kierkegaard in "Think about Your Creator" in Eighteen Upbuilding Discourses

"Do not take too much control of the young, nor of the infant, but do not therefore do the opposite, either; do not make it prematurely old, lest it drink the bitterness of not being allowed to be young when one is young, and for a second time drink the bitterness of not having been allowed to be young when one was young."  


-Soren Kierkegaard in "Think about Your Creator" in Eighteen Upbuilding Discourses

"Indeed, nothing is more loathsome than to see the miserable beggar whose eyes and countenance implore everyone for the flattering falsehood that he still seems young, or to see the poor wretch who despite his advanced age still bolsters himself with the lie that he has youth ahead of him, or to see the weakling who has no other defense against the years than a feeble wish that he were still young."  

-Soren Kierkegaard in "Think about Your Creator" in Eighteen Upbuilding Discourses

tarts and towers

I just finished possibly the best pecan tart I have ever eaten. It was crumbly, but it was oh so delectable. Yesterday night I went downstairs to cook a late supper, settling on my usual fare - microwaved hot dogs on bread with a cheese slice. Upon entering the kitchen, I noticed that on the stove-top were a fantastic-looking pie with crumble on top, which I found out later to be peach pie, and a pan of melt-in-your-mouth pecan butter tarts.

Now, I would like you to get a glimpse of how much I like butter tarts. Years ago I decided it was a prerequisite that the woman I was to marry had to know how to make butter tarts. That's how much I like butter tarts. Since then, reason has poked its hideous little head into the play-pen of my mind and has pointed out that perhaps this is a superficial and idiotic prerequisite to have, so I have dropped it as a requirement.

Anyway, so I was there nuking my very unhealthy dinner in the microwave, and Trina comes upstairs to check on her baking, which is still hot. I commented on how wonderful her baking looks, and she said that she'd leave one out for me when they cooled off (the one, in fact, that I ate just before sitting down to write).

The microwave finished and I opened the door. Oh no. Once again, I had managed to shrivel the weiners to the point that they were no longer recognizable. Suddenly I was hit by the contrast. Trina was telling me how her dad was quite the baker, and that she had a gift for being able to just throw things in a pan and they'd turn out wonderfully, and here I was a horrible failure at even warming a couple of hot dogs.

I made sure the door didn't fly open all the way, hoping that somehow she wouldn't be able to see what a mess I had made of such a simple operation. It was embarrassing. Then she went to the fridge, and I'm pretty sure she saw the full extent of the damage. Thankfully she didn't point out my absolute ineptitude at all things culinary.

I was once again confronted with the fact that I'll never be as good as some people at some things. I will especially never likely be the best at anything. To go further, in less than a couple hundred years my name in this world will likely be no more than a hard-to-find byte deep in the neglected annuls of cyberspace, because the people who are remembered are those who were the best at what they did.

There are a few ways of trying to overcome our own insignificance and ineptitude, and they always involve an other. When Trina gave me a pecan tart, my ineptitude at making such tasty treats was no longer a concern, because she had filled that lack for me. Even better has been the way Darcie has encouraged me to learn to cook, even bringing over ingredients and helping me through the process. Today she reaped the benefits of the tutelage, as community always does from such encouragement, because I cooked and froze quite a bit of spaghetti and made some for her and I for supper.

In coming alongside me, encouraging me by her example, and helping me know that I could accomplish this myself, there is no longer a need there that I cannot fill. "Feed a man a fish..." the saying goes. It is only in community that any one of us has significance, that any one of us can conquer our inadequacies. Either it is in others doing for us, or it is in them encouraging and enabling us to overcome obstacles ourselves.

It was this strength mis-directed that caused God to scatter and confuse the people at Babel. Like each one of us, they wanted to be remembered and to make a name for themselves (Gen 11:4). Like Adam and Eve, they went further and strove to be like God and to reach to the heavens (4), which, were it to be possible, would eliminate the possibility of the true God, for there is only One. When the Lord came down to see the city and the tower, he observes that as one people speaking the same language, "nothing they plan to be will be impossible for them" (6).

I don't think that the problem is in their unity or in the strength therein. In fact, this is what Jesus longs for in his followers, that we be one as he and the Father are one. The problem is that they were not also in God (John 17:21) in their desire to reach into his dwelling and snatch him from his rightful throne. Even if those at Babel had eliminated the impossible and had accomplished everything here on earth, they would not have made a name for themselves in heaven, because the only names that matter in eternity are those written in the Lamb's book of life (Luke 10:20). It is only through His gift to us that we have significance in this world. He was the only one who could successfully go through the fires of hell and come out perfected. At the same time, He not only does for us what we cannot do, but He gives us the power to accomplish the inconceivable; to choose to become children of God.

His gift is grace, His strength is faith. 

We do not only receive the gift, but we are given the power to choose it for ourselves. We do not only receive the pecan tart we are unable to make, but we are enabled to make it ourselves. Indeed, it is a paradox, because we are unable to accomplish this for ourselves, but in receiving the gift we are also simultaneously given the strength to accomplish what we are unable to do. Praise God that the gates of hell cannot prevail against us who are united by Christ as one people, a chosen priesthood and a holy nation, speaking the one language of the Spirit and being found in God Himself. There is nothing that is impossible for us who are in complete unity in the Lord. Like Abraham and Joseph, He will bless everything we do as it is done in Him. Praise the One who is the Gift, the Giver, and the One who enables us to receive Himself. He gave it all, but in giving it all He has adopted us as Sons of God whose names are written in the only history book that matters: the Book of Life. Through Him and in Him we have attained an eternal remembrance that cannot be marred by our temporary ineptitude, failure, and inability to achieve anything truly creative, new, or remarkable on our own. In Him we bear His name and His glory in being the only Creator. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain!

the dangerous mechanic

Understanding my distaste for unexpected expenditures, you can imagine my discomfort taking Arfy to the mechanic. As a general rule, though, if your car's radiator fan is not working and you can't drive more than 15 minutes without overheating and having your coolant boil and explode out of its container, and if overheating can cause your engine to warp and seize up, rendering your car useless - it's probably a good time to see a mechanic. In the case of a mechanic, the unexpected costs are generally the result of finding out that your car will explode into a million pieces unless you have this, this, and this replaced. In my case it was probably true. I think that's why I tend to have an overwhelming urge to put off going to a garage for as long as possible, basically until even I can tell I'm not going to last long driving the car, because I know they're going to tell me something is more wrong with my car than I first thought.  

"How are you?" "Fine." 

As humans, we really don't like being told there's something wrong with us. This is the reason I can't even remember how many years ago I last saw a dentist. I figure if I don't know about problems with my teeth, the problems don't really exist, right? (Just say I'm right) The thing is, as long as there's nothing wrong with us, there's no point going to the dentist or the doctor. It's not the healthy who need a doctor but the sick, but we're all sick and all of us have a insatiable desire to delude ourselves into thinking we're healthy.

"They are poor-so inexperienced, so stupid, that they have no other hope but him who called them" - Dietrich Bonhoeffer (The Cost of Discipleship)

Even if we do get up the courage to see the Doctor, almost immediately we try to forget we ever saw Him. "If I'm healed, then why do I need to remember the doctor?" Little do we recall that He gives us a prescription to follow, and that we still rely on His expertise. We try to forget that our dentist told us to floss regularly, or our doctor told us to lose weight, or that we should be taking these horrible things three times a day. These only remind us of our sickness, of our inadequacies. The truth is, though, until that Day, we are still being healed (1 Cor 1:18, 2 Cor 2:15). While we know that we have obtained the fullness of the medication on the part of the Doctor, we still bear symptoms of our illness until the Final Checkup when we are pronounced "clean." 

"Do not say you do not got faith. You will not have it so long as you persist in disobedience and refuse to take the first step" -Dietrich Bonhoeffer (The Cost of Discipleship)

The Struggle 

Indeed, taking Arfy to the mechanic felt much like I was taking my child to the doctor. Of course, if that was the case, I'd be a very bad father. His front tires were pretty much down to the metal wire and were about to explode; the engine was about to self-destruct due to overheating; my mass air flow sensor is unplugged - seeing which, the mechanic said "I didn't know cars could run without that connected;" there is engine oil leaking out of the valve cover gasket and burning on the engine (which could break out in flame at any moment), and the ball joint at the end of my steering tie-rod is wearing out, which could cause me to loose steering. You will notice that many of those are still in the present tense. I'm sure if I left a hospital with my child in that condition I'd be thrown in jail. However, I did have his front tires replaced and there's now a working fan in his hood to keep him a bit cooler on these hot summer days. 

It's fairly painful watching the mechanic work away on him. I figured out that the difference between myself working on a car and a mechanic working on a car is that the mechanic doesn't care how violent he is, because he knows he can fix whatever he breaks. Seeing Denis tear out the radiator fan, with no regard for the feelings of the hoses in the general vicinity, is a vivid picture of the Adamic struggle to work the earth after the fall. An even more vivid portrayal of man's struggle against nature (as much such things can be called nature) is watching Denis try to extract a stubborn bolt. It is also a dynamic display of the dexterity of the English language in constructing a sentence composed of an infinite number of expletives. I was surprised the venom of his French didn't itself cause the bolt to dissolve. It was actually painful to watch. Here was this large man pounding away at my car, pieces of bolt flying this way and that, watching as he stripped the bolt and then broke off its head. I know it can't even be compared to someone watching their child die, but at that moment I wondered if Arfy would ever turn over again. Denis looked to be so upset that he might just take the entire car apart for spite, and I wouldn't be able to stop him (how do you think you'd fare against a mechanic with a hammer, a screwdriver, and vice-grips?). When he finally got the mass air flow sensor off, and managed to break off even the part of the bolt that was left sticking out, I wondered if this was one of those things that needed to be broken before it could've been fixed, like us. I don't think it was. I just think he was angry at the bolt and didn't want to deal with it any more.  

The Total Cost 

One difference between Jesus and a mechanic (besides that he doesn't mutter profanities at us and break us in his rage) is that Jesus can give us the final total up-front. When we come to Him, we have to give up everything. Mechanics invest a lot of money in their shop, but Jesus paid it all, even Himself. In return, He asks that we give up our lives for His sake, that we may find everlasting life in Him. Sometimes we, like Keith at the mechanic, want to just fix the most nagging elements of our life and live with the rest, because we can't bear the thought of the cost, but we forget that at the start we vowed to give all. 

"Jesus has now many lovers of His heavenly kingdom, but few bearers of His cross" -Thomas À Kempis (The Imitation of Christ)

Although I'm thankful the mechanic at another garage replaced and balanced my front tires for $60 cash up-front, instead of the $70 plus tax he originally asked for(if I were a bit more law-abiding, I might start to wonder at that), I know that I won't see him much more in my life. Jesus, on the other hand, is with me 24-7 with on-the-spot roadside assistance. Heck, He even drives most of the time. I'd like to say that He does all the driving, like I promised He would when we started out together, but the truth is that sometimes I don't like where He's going, or I find a way I think I like better. Eventually, though, with Him back behind the wheel, we always end up heading in the right direction again. 

"Let me love Thee more than myself, nor love myself but for Thee; and in Thee all that truly love Thee, as the law of love commands, shining out from Thyself" -Thomas À Kempis (The Imitation of Christ)

the cost

I'm part Scottish, but sometimes I think I must be full-blooded. My proof for this is an intriguing cost-saving substance called "skim milk powder." While all other kids growing up 'got milk,' my sisters and I were sat in front of an over-diluted pail of this watery white substance that had the audacity to claim the name of 'milk' while every sense receptor on my tongue screamed the falsity of such an association. 

For the longest time I probably wondered if my mom merely printed her own blue bags with 'milk' written across the side wherin she could deposit these powdery grains of dried food colouring, because I had never seen one of these bags outside of our house on God's green earth. To this day I haven't seen anyone actually drink the stuff besides the Dow clan, but I have seen the odd bag here and there, tucked in the deepest, darkest corners of grocery stores. I think they're made just for my mom, though. Possibly by my dad, who used to work at a milk processing plant in Mitchell. 

Another evidence for this Scottish heritage is the fact that, growing up, I don't think any of us kids understood that all these used clothes we were wearing were, at one point in time, new; and perhaps they even came from some place other than Value Villiage or friendly old Beatrice from church. What do you mean, underwear comes in other shades than brown? What crazy talk is this? I'm just kidding, of course. We didn't wear underwear. That would be a frivolous luxury. 

So perhaps my parents weren't that thrifty. They always bought us the necessities, and consistently sacrificed things that they might've wanted in order to bless us with gifts. They have always been hard workers for the Lord and we have never been truly in need, but they were certainly cautious when it came to the daily cost of living. They had to be, in order to live below the poverty line. One doesn't work for God for the pay. 

I can see traces of their cost-saving attitude in myself when I go to the local Macs and undergo a lengthy deliberation process as to which size slushie to purchase. "Well, at the other Macs the 525 mL slushie is $1.29, like the small one, but here it's $1.59! Do these people not want me to get an education?!?" Darcie does well to bear with my penny-pinching posession. She doesn't expect anything too expensive. In fact, on those romantic nights when I take her out to treat her to something special, she graciously takes a small slushie rather than the large one. 

There are other times when I couldn't care less about money. When I have planned to make a purchase in advance and know that it will be expensive, I am ready to accept this cost, and pay it without a second thought. Even large purchases for me can be made without any twinge of miserliness if I know in advance that this is something I have chosen to do. It's the unexpected costs that make me anxious, because I feel as though the money is disappearing without me giving it. 

A classic example of this is the restaraunt scam. These con artists will entice you into fairly simple but elegant social atmosphere, have you sit down and present you with plates, cutlery, and water. They will make sure to have dignified-looking patrons sitting at nearby tables; those people that you know will despise you if you make any indication that you wish to upset the traditions and habits of people of culture. After some witty banter from the waiter or waitress, which could also be described as a thinly-disguised request for a huge tip, you are handed a menu. This is what you have been waiting for. Like Abel, you are willing to give almost anything for that steak on the first page that looks more succulent than any steak could possibly be. Then you look at the price. Steak, à mourir pour: $ your life and firstborn son. You know that you could buy the entire slaughterhouse and restaraunt for this amount, but at this point you realize your feet are chained to the floor. King Norm will have your head on a platter should you even think about getting up and going to another restaurant. 

I suppose if I was really concerned about prices at a restaurant I could call ahead of time and find out their price range. When I'm out with people I care for generally money isn't an issue because I'm investing in people, which is priceless. For everything else, there's petty theft. Unfortunately, though, the money going into my account at the moment is a few pennies short of a nickel, and apparently Bill Gates isn't going to pay my credit balance any more. 

The moral of the story? Sitting by and watching life eat away little by little at the self you grasp so tightly to in your unwillingness to choose cannot compare to choosing to spend your entire life with joy in the service of our Savior, for whom no cost was too great to feast in eternity with his friends. 

"It is no small thing for a man to forsake himself, even in things that are very small"

-Thomas À Kempis, The Imitation of Christ

Dr. Keith E. Zacharias

Today I had the privilege of going to a conference in Toronto with Dave Hood and Dan Carlson, two guys that I respect for their fellow geekiness and love of books, theology, philosophy, history, and literature/language.  

The keynote speaker was Ravi Zacharias, a tremendous speaker and apologist who not only has a captivating intellect but also a stunning delivery of profound truths. During one session that he wasn't speaking I was coming in a little late, so I slipped around back of the pews in the large church auditorium and into my seat. As I'm rounding the back of the pews to come up the far side of the isle, whistling the song that everyone else is singing (don't ask my why I was whistling... I really have no idea), the door opens and who to my wondering eyes should appear but Dr. Ravi Zach, with a faithful minion at his side. 

I go further up to my seat and, little do I know, this white haired Indian man is following me. I sit down. He sits down. Beside me. Of course, this is where the choir is supposed to sit when they come back, but neither my new friend nor his loyal minion seem to be aware of this. He seems to be a somewhat useless minion, actually. After all, he hasn't sat Ravi in the right spot, and it turns out that he hasn't gotten Ravi a song-sheet either. Dan and I have to give him ours, which means I ask to share the song-sheet with him until Dan finds another one. "Mind if I share," I asked, coolly and nonchalantly, as though we had been buds since high-school. He murmured some approval, as though distracted. "Should I help him by holding the one side of the book?" I ask myself... "Couldn't hurt." I timidly reach for the other page beside the one he's holding. You have to realize that at this time our hands are approximately this far apart:  

Keith's hand ---------------------------------------------------------- Ravi's hand

Soon, though, Dan has another songbook so I share his instead. I try to sing nice harmony for Ravi to hear. Maybe somehow he'll realize, "Wow, this young man must have tremendous intellect - in spite of whatever he's trying to sing. Perhaps I will offer him a job right now as my personal assistant. After all, this minion doesn't seem to be doing so well." 

I watched as others handed him books to be signed and even helped him by nudging one young man on the shoulder when his book was ready to be returned (after all, this is while talking was taking place up front). I figured that is what a loyal assistant would do. Maybe his minion could take notes. 

Joe Boot was the speaker at the time, who has done apologetics at Oxford and other places and had authored several books, and he mentioned that he was somewhat nervous having Ravi there to hear him. The audience chuckled and all turned to look at me. Well, I guess Ravi more particularly. Really, though, they should have looked to me, because obvious Ravi must have thought I was pretty special to sit beside me. They should have been saying to each other, "Who is that? He must be a pretty tremendous speaker or theologian for Ravi to sit beside him." Then they'd all crowd around me after to get autographs and I'd leave them little personal notes like, "I feel God is calling you to the headhunting tribes... Follow Him. -Keith Dow." Of course they'd do it, because they'd figure I was famous. Headhunters need Jesus too, you know. 

I didn't talk to Ravi at all. Perhaps deep down I wanted to pretend that he was just another random dude and that I really wasn't interested in meeting him or in gaping at his holy glow, even when people started lining up around me to speak with him. I think I just wanted to believe that there really wasn't much difference between him and I. Here's a little blurb about him from his website:

For thirty-three years Ravi Zacharias has spoken all over the world and in numerous universities, notably Harvard, Princeton, and Oxford University. He has addressed writers of the peace accord in South Africa, President Fujimori's cabinet and parliament in Peru, and military officers at the Lenin Military Academy and the Center for Geopolitical Strategy in Moscow. He has been privileged to bring the main address at the National Day of Prayer in Washington, DC, an event endorsed and cohosted by President George W. Bush, and at the Pentagon. Additionally, Mr. Zacharias has spoken twice at the Annual Prayer Breakfast at the United Nations in New York, which marks the beginning of the UN session each year, and at the invitation of the President of Nigeria, he addressed the delegates at the First Annual Prayer Breakfast for African Leaders, held in Mozambique.

Like I said, I'd like to think that there's not much difference between us. I'd like to think that I'll definitely have done just as much as he has (if not more) by the time I'm in my late 50's. I'd like to think that my life will have made just as much difference for the Kingdom of God. After all, we were both born in foreign countries. That has to count for something. 

The truth of the matter is, I don't have nearly as good a memory for captivating stories or pertinent antidotes as he does. I'm also not nearly as smart or quick on my feet or socially adept as he. Listening to his lectures at Harvard on our way home, I realized I certainly couldn't put those students in their place with the wit and thouroughness that he did. In fact, something deep inside me says I'll never be a Ravi Zacharias. 

My whole life I've dreamed of having a profound influence on the world for Christ. This is why I've taken theology and philosophy degrees. They certainly aren't studies for those who hope to settle down quickly and make a lot of money. I'd be willing to die broke if I knew my life had been a uniquely transforming influence for Christ in the world. Sometimes I wonder if my thinking and writing could do that. I've had a couple of nice compliments on my blog, after all. But then, as Ravi said, "When the flood-waters are down, every shrimp has its own puddle." The compliments of a few friends and family are encouraging, but certainly not indicative of great things to come. 

When all things are considered, it is merely vain hope to put my expectancy in something in particular that is profound or great that I might want to do, especially since I don't see myself as particularly talented at something. To put expectancy in such things or in myself is useless and will only end in disappointment. However, I do have a promise that "God works all things for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose," and I know that "it is God who works in [me] to will and act according to His good purpose." 

If I wait patiently for the Lord, studying diligently to correctly handle the word of truth; if I do what I can to love others as Christ has loved me; if I press on to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus, then I know that no matter what results I may observe, God will use me for His glory. 

I will never be a Ravi Zacharias. God has created Him for a reason, and He has created me for a reason. My dream is not to become Ravi. My dream is to become Keith - that Keith who God has called me to be. My dream is to see what God can do through me. Anything that is done with this frail clay is a miracle in itself. That I am hand-crafted and loved by my Father, who also happens to be the Creator of the universe; this is my glory and my crown! In fact, it is my redeemed imperfections that most clearly demonstrate the power of God, for when I am weak then I am strong because God's strength is made perfect in this weakness. Indeed, "we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us" (2 Cor 4:7).  

Lord, refine my dreams that I may recognize your work through me whatever form it may take and give you the glory. May my life glorify you through both the strengths you have given me and through your victory over my inadequacies. Amen.

"But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things--and the things that are not--to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him. It is because of him that you are in Christ Jesus, who has become for us wisdom from God--that is, our righteousness, holiness and redemption. Therefore, as it is written: "Let him who boasts boast in the Lord." (1 Cor 1:27-31)

Bye-bye Bible

Perhaps we should all be Jedi Knights. Their principle of non-attachment, which is strikingly like the Buddha's attempt to rid himself of earthly desires, is very appealing. "We will have to find out the cause of sorrow and the way to escape from it. The desire for sensual enjoyment and clinging to earthly life is the cause of sorrow. If we can eradicate desire, all sorrows and pains will come to an end." This makes a lot of sense. Actually, it makes perfect sense. He is right. It can be scary admitting Buddha is right, because what if he's right about everything? Well, even in this case, perhaps he is only right insofar as what he says is true. Does that mean his route is the best path to take on the proverbial road to enlightenment? Right now it might appear that way.

You see, I realized recently that I became very attached to something I owned. It's my Bible. Or, was my Bible. (Give me a moment to regain my composure...) I had my NIV study Bible for at least 1000 years, and had grown to be very comfortable with it. Sure, people made fun of my "cheater tabs" (I think because they have not experienced being up front and having to find a verse while keeping everyone waiting, or maybe they had the millimeters of Bible thickness memorized so they could find exact verses on their first open), but I realized how fond I was of this particular Bible when I lost it around Christmas time. I bought a new Bible, but it was so difficult to enjoy because I had not 'tamed' it. Its blank pages stared back at me with naked text I felt ashamed to look at. I missed the flowing blue, yellow, and green tresses of my old Bible.

Then, one glorious Sunday (well not glorious in that I got a $50 parking ticket) Bassam came up to me with a Bible looking strikingly like my old Bible. My heart began to beat like Josh's car on the 417 and I dared not to hope... but then he said it "Keith, is this your Bible?" Oh, that exhilarating moment of truth when I opened the cover and found my name there! But, alas. Here I am, my parking ticket past due (half because of Ottawa's ineptitude and half because of my own) and once again Bibleless. Well, okay, I still have my backup copy, but it isn't the same.

Let me retrace my steps.  This past Sunday Christian and Graeme decided to toilet paper my car. I was tipped off however, and ran out to catch them in the act. They saw me coming and ran screaming like wee little babies to Christian's car. Like a mythical hero of old, I leaped across the parking lot in a single bound and landed firmly on the hood of Christian's car, my fiery eyes causing a chain reaction wherein both Christian and Graeme simultaneously wet their pants. I roared, and after a brief moment, when Christian and Graeme felt very uncomfortable and wondered when the last time it was that they had wet their pants, Christian started the car and began to dive.

When I had bounded across the parking lot with the wrath of 10,000 suns, I had my Bible in my hand. When the car began to move, I jumped clear, knowing that their fear of me would eventually drive them to an early grave. However, my Bible was still on their hood. One would think that a ginormous Bible the size of the Black Stone of Mecca (horrible analogy, I know) would be noticed by someone if it were perched right in front of them on the hood of their car. Well, at least that's what I thought. Apparently, though, vision tests for drivers aren't as thorough as they used to be. I guess being able to see as far as the hood is asking a bit much. After all, who really wants to drive Blind Grandma Gertrude to pick up her hemroid medication every day. So, my Bible is gone. Again.

When Christian and Graeme found out what had happened, they very graciously went back to look for my Bible along the route they had taken. Now knowing the extent of their eyesight, Darcie and I went back as well and walked a good 60 hours in the pouring rain to try and find it. Oh, and did I mention it was raining? Now that it's gone a second time, I am even more disheartened than the first, because I remembered how much I enjoyed that Bible when I got it back. "You don't know what you have 'till it's gone" is what some annoying pop song says, and I guess it's right. When Dan heard it was gone, he asked if it had a lot of sentimental value and sounded slightly incredulous that I missed it so much. I understand where he's coming from. I live in a country where I can just buy another one, and indeed I have several others. It's also crucial that we do not let the Bible be an idol. I'm not even going to pretend to be uber-spiritual and say that it breaks my heart to see God's book lost. After all, it's the message inside that's important and not the actual paper and ink.

The thing is, this message had become my message. When my Nanny committed suicide, it was on that paper that I highlighted where the psalmist writes "Praise be to God, who daily bears our burdens," which was the first passage I turned to. I had also put a lot of time into reading through it and highlighting what is important to me, so it was becoming a book I was could be comfortable with. It was becoming my own, and I had put more time into it than every essay I have ever written combined. Even the time I'd spent recently, highlighting what was important to me had taken longer than any essay I've ever written. I'm sure we all know what it's like to lose, just about lose, or fear losing something we've put a lot of time into.

You see, if my Bible was just a Bible, then it wouldn't be difficult to replace. It would be more of a position in my life to fill than something that hurts to lose. When we become attached to the uniqueness of this particular thing, however, we are in a very dangerous place, because things are temporary. Even people will die on us eventually. Thus, the Buddha is right in saying that if we eliminate desire we eliminate suffering. However, I tend to side with the old adage "It is better to have loved and lost than not to have loved at all."

God, in theory, is a position. Let's be honest. The idea of an omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent God is not hard to come up with. There are billions of people who have a God-substitute that works fine as far as that is concerned. The problem is, for them there is no evidence that they will ever be able to cross the gap from their temporal, fleeting existence to the perfection they conjure up.

Jesus Christ, on the other hand, is Someone particular. Oh, if only He were just God and not also man it would be easy to say we love Him! We could come up with our own way of worshipping Him and say He is whoever we want Him to be. It wouldn't drive me to tears to think of His death. I wouldn't be faced with the reality of what He actually said and the claims that He made. So much hardship would be avoided! Alas, this is not the case. He has come and met with me, and this is one thing I cannot deny, for He is particular just as I am particular.

I have encountered the dying and the risen Christ here in all of my inadequacies and failures, here in my deformities and insecurities, and this is how I know His love for me. Once you have truly understood His love, it is impossible to deny it. If I had not looked in His eyes, I would be able to look away. If I had not heard his heart stop for me, my own heart would not have had to start to beat. I love Him because He first loved me. So, here I am. My dear little Bible is gone and my precious Friend has left this earth. I know missing my Bible will never bring it back, but my Friend has told me that if I believe in Him and confess Him out of my love for Him then one day I will see Him face to face. This is what it is to be a Christian. To be committed to love. There is no turning back. Once you love, it is not something you can forget about or discard, like an idea. In fact, we cannot truly love an idea or an object because we cannot identify with them enough. We may say we do, but we don't. I could never love my Bible. We can only love a Person. I believe with all my heart, despite the pain that comes with the possibility of loss, despite the times I wonder if I've been let down and despite the rough edges of the Man of Sorrows, that it is only His wounded arms of love that are able to bear us into eternity.

The Victory of the Little Prince

First, in order to proceed beyond matters of great consequence, I must put before you a choice. It is, perplexingly enough, the choice between life and death, blessings and curses. It is this. What is the following picture to you?

Did you say:
A) A hat or,
B) A boa-constrictor digesting an elephant?

Only if you answered B you may proceed to read the rest of this post, because "It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; What is essential is invisible to the eye" (The Little Prince). In fact, it would be best if you read The Little Prince before reading this post. I don't think you'll be lost, but it'll just make everything mean a whole lot more.

The Little Prince
I read this charming book with Darcie not long ago, a book about a tiny prince who leaves his tiny island and his temperamental and arrogant rose to explore the galaxy and search for friendship, only to discover that it was his tiny whimsical rose that he truly cared about and found joy in caring for.

The Little Prince, which, according to some sources was the third-most read book in the 20th Century next to the Bible and the Koran, intrigued me to the point that I began investigating the life of the author, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.

I would agree with Otto Bollnow that our richest education in life comes through profound encounters with unusual, challenging, or inspiring literature, people, historical figures, works of art, etc. Reading The Little Prince was one of these existential encounters for me, and so I wondered if knowing the author would be a similar experience.

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

Probably the best way I could describe him would be to say that Saint-Exupéry was a man of passion. He was born in Lyons, France, in 1900 into a family of provincial nobility. His father died in 1904 of a stroke, leaving his widow to care for their five young children. He was educated in Jesuit and Catholic schools, before failing his final examination at a university preparatory school but going on to study architecture at a college.

One of the great passions of his life was flying. Entering military service in 1921, he trained to become a pilot. He was offered a job in the air force, but his fiancée's family objected, so took up an office job and began to write. The next years of his life were difficult. His engagement was broken off and he had no success in jobs, trying his hand at bookkeeper and automobile salesman among others. Finally he was able to fly again, delivering mail over North Africa, escaping death on several occasions. In 1928 became the director of a remote airfield in the desert, whose harsh beauty is the setting for The Little Prince and The Wisdom of the Sands. In fact, the first-person perspective of The Little Prince is that of a pilot whose airplane crashes in the Sahara Desert.

Perhaps you do not see the beauty in learning about others' lives as much as I do. I am sorry. I will try to be more succinct. Then, again, maybe we are in danger of being too grown-up to recognize the infinite importance of one life lived, caught up as we are in facts and figures, where deaths are statistics and lives are the memory lag before becoming one.

Antoine flies and writes. One of his novels, Night Flight, became an international bestseller, won a prize, and was adapted for the screen in 1933.

In 1931 Saint-Exupéry married Consuelo Gómez Carillo, who was the inspiration for the little prince's rose. Although she wrote of him that, "He wasn't like other people, but like a child or an angel who has fallen down from the sky," their relationship was stormy. She was jealous and felt neglected, and understandably, because Saint-Exupéry was seldom home and had numerous affairs with other women. Women were certainly another passion of his life, albeit an untamed one.

At the age of 44, wanting to get out of the military, he agreed to one last mission for his Mediterranean-based Allied squadron; to collect data on German troop movements. He took off from an airstrip in Sardinia on July 31, 1944 on a flight over southern France and was never seen again. His plane was found in May 2000. To this day it is unknown whether it was suicide, an accident, or if he was shot down.

It is likely that he was shot down by the German fighter-pilot Robert Heichelle, who reported shooting down an aggressive Lighting that day, but it is also plausible that he committed suicide, having felt isolated and alone in his squadron and being pessimistic about the future. Scientifically, we just don't know. Perhaps it is our desire to honor a dead man's memory that keeps suicide from being the option of choice. Perhaps it is more rationally sound to believe he was shot down. Maybe we just want it to be that way.

The Passing of the Little Prince
 

The end of The Little Prince is tragic and not completely unlike Saint-Exupéry's own passing. He has met a snake who claims "Anyone I touch, I send back to the land from which he came," and he comes to the realization that he has been tamed by his rose, that he is responsible for her and he must care for her. He must go back to the land from which he came to be with her again. "It'll look as if I'm suffering," he says, "It'll look a little as if I'm dying. It'll look that way." The pilot, who has come to care deeply for this little prince, is with him when to see the yellow flash close to the little prince's ankle. "He remained motionless for an instant. He didn't cry out. He fell gently, the way a tree falls." The pilot takes comfort in knowing that he did get back to his plant because at daybreak the pilot does not find his body. The little prince, like Saint-Exupéry, disappeared.

I still found the end of The Little Prince quite disconcerting. I had grown to love the pilot and the little prince. While I can see that the little prince cared so dearly for his rose, I myself have a hard time caring for the rose in that way and so wonder why he had to return. I, along with the pilot, have been tamed by the little prince. The whole thing carries with it the suspension of an uneasy and undefined situation. Letting the snake bite him is too close to suicide for my liking. Isn't there another way? If the little prince managed to get to earth in another way, could he not leave in the same way? Was there no other way to save his flower?

As with the death of Saint-Exupéry, it is not possible to say with scientific certainty what happened in the passing of the little prince. Oh, how we want for the truth to be that the little prince has in fact saved his flower, that it has not been eaten by the sheep, that despite how few thorns it has it and its arrogance, the little prince has returned to his planet and everything is right in the universe... that each star in the night sky blossoms with the beauty of the love of a little prince for his flower. Oh, how we want the truth to be that men do not commit suicide, that they do not have affairs. Oh, how we want the truth to be that Jesus Christ died and rose again, that we will one day be with him.

A Great Little Prince, a Serpent, and a Rose

We have a great Prince who became little, who allowed the great Serpent to poison him so that we, his precious rose, would be saved. Was there no other way? He came to earth peacefully as a baby, could not he have left upon the clouds?

As much as we try, we can never scientifically prove what happened on the cross or in the following days. It must be impossible to prove such a thing, by definition, otherwise it would not be a matter of faith. Of course, it is also impossible to prove otherwise. If it were possible to prove otherwise, there would be no faith on earth. There is a choice to make, for life or for death, for blessings or for curses. Can we look beyond the visible to see with our heart, to the inward and invisible? Can we look beyond this world where people kill themselves and commit affairs, trampling themselves and their roses? Can we look beyond what the world sees as 'matters of consequence,' that we have never actually known someone to come back from the dead and have never seen the entirety of God?

Did Christ return to his land after being bitten by the snake, and is his rose safe?

I know that he did, and I know that we are. I returned that day, and his body was gone. Even now, he is disappeared. There are some things that are humanly, inductively, and rationally impossible. It is scientifically impossible that Christ is dead because of the empty tomb, and theoretically impossible because he is God. It was also imperative for him to die because he was man. Conversely, to human rationality it is theoretically impossible that he die because he is God, but inductively impossible that he should rise again, being a man. The very fact that we are able to choose to believe in spite of the impossibility of the death of God and the impossibility of a man coming to life again are proof for our belief. Such an occurance cannot be manufactured by us, for it is something we cannot think. For us in this unique faith in Christ, "Certum est, quia impossibile est" (Tertullian). It is certain because it is impossible. It must have been from God. As Christ himself said, "What is impossible with men is possible with God" (Luke 18:27).

Were we unable to believe, as an individual, that Christ died and rose again, we would not be able to enter the Kingdom of God. Because, however, we are able to believe that the snake is not the victor, we are certain of the victory of our little Prince. We believe in the eternal victory of our God - the past is redeemed in creation, the present particulars in the life of Christ, and the future sealed in his glorious return. The expectancy of our faith is victory over the future because it is an eternal victory, finding its proof not primarily in the scientific evidences of man but in the eternal love of our Father God. Through the our faith, the expectation that there is an eternal victory for the saints in Christ, we are able to conquer the future and, in doing so, conquer the particularities of ourselves. It is only through this conquering of ourselves and the future, Kierkegaard writes, that we are able to fully live the present.

Today, do you believe that the rose is safe? Do you believe that it is only through faith in Christ that we are able to overcome the snake's death-bite, that the only optimism in this world that makes sense is faith in Christ?

If this is what we believe, then we must come to care for the Rose as the Little Prince does. It is incredibly difficult, because, "Oh yes, she was quite vain!" In having difficulty loving the saints, though, we are only coming to see the grace that was required for Him to first love us. We, as his rose, as his body, torment him with our "rather touchy vanity." We think we are ready to fight off the roaming Lion with our four little thorns, but in truth we couldn't do a thing against him. Besides, it's the Lamb we must be most concerned about, for it is He who "can destroy both the soul and the body in hell." Hallelujah, for it is this same Lamb who has redeemed our life from the pit and who has died to free us from His own wrath!

Let us believe, then, in that truth which is invisible. Let us have full confidence, because of the disappeared Christ, that our Little Prince has returned to prepare a place for his Rose, His Body, His Saints. Because we, a rose of such little consequence, have become precious to the Prince, let us love His Rose as He loves us, even though we realize its inherently inconsequential nature.

Indeed, it is because He has chosen us that we have such great value. Not only does He love the world enough to die for humanity, but,

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love he predestined us to be adopted as his sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will" (Eph 1:3-5).

Let us take joy in such a great salvation, in such a great love, and let us make every effort to draw others to our Great Little Prince, who has died for the sins of the world and is patient, "not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance" (2 Peter 3:9).

We are His people, the Rose of His garden. To the angels, to the animals, and to the world, He has said, 

"You're lovely, but you're empty... One couldn't die for you. Of course, an ordinary passerby would think my rose looked just like you. But my rose, all on her own, is more important than all of you together, since she's the one I've watered. Since she's the one I put under glass. Since she's the one I sheltered behind a screen. Since she's the one for whom I killed the caterpillars (except the two or three for butterflies). Since she's the one I listened to when she complained, or when she boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing at all. Since she's my rose."

Oh, how He longs for us to see her how He sees her, to love her as He loves her, to see ourselves as He sees us, to love ourselves because He loves us, to see the world as He sees it, to love the world because He longs for them to be His rose! Let us go forth today in longing love for the world, in tender nurture for the church, and in glorious joyful victory in our Little Prince, who has shattered the chains of death and has crushed the head of the Serpent.