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)