Archive for February, 2023

Andy Stanley vs. Bill Maher

February.5. 2023

Today, an unusual intersection.

It’s Pastor Andy Stanley vs. Bill Maher.

Pastor Stanley’s sermon today was about how to deal with mean people. Not bad people but mean people.

And Bill Maher, in his rant last Friday, talked about communism and woke and how they tried to change human nature by screaming at it.

Two great wise men that I follow avidly.

Stanley’s premise is that in life we have three choices.

We can return evil for good, evil for evil, or good for evil.

We all know the first option—evil people who do not have a spark of humanity in them. To them, it’s all about their needs and they would do anything to get it, and the rest of mankind be damned.

The second option, evil for evil, is the old Hammurabi code—a tooth for a tooth, an eye for an eye.

It’s ancient wisdom and seemed to have worked well.

Because if your detractors know that whatever they perpetrate on you will be returned in kind, they may be a little more hesitant in doing it.

And the third option is exactly what Maher was talking about—it’s against human nature. You can scream at it all you want but it won’t work.

It’s what communism tried to do, to appeal to man’s better instincts and we know how that worked out.

The third option is the central message of Jesus. It’s the ‘turn the other cheek’ approach to evil.

It’s beautiful in theory and it makes you feel good and warm inside.

But as a practical doctrine, it has failed miserably because nobody follows it.

And a good thing too.

Imagine if all the evil tyrants throughout history had been rewarded with the other cheek.

Where would we be today?

So-called ‘good’ teachers like Pastor Stanley preach the third option because it appears to give them the moral high ground.

Deep in their heart, they probably know it has no basis in reality, but they still preach it because it’s a beautiful message to preach on a beautiful Sunday morning.

On this 19th year

February.3. 2023

Looking through some old scribblings again, I found this old poem dated April 1976.

I had been in Christchurch just about two months.

Autumn was setting in and I was thinking of home and of Mary.

In those days, I was a walking conundrum.

On the one hand, filled with boundless energy and dreams and plans for the future.

On the other, moody and melancholic.

Thinking back, I realize that the melancholy was mainly for self preservation. It was a tool to keep me focused on the beauty of life.

Because, back then, I found a strange kind of beauty in melancholy and sadness.

ON THIS 19TH YEAR

On this 19th year morn
Nothing stirs
A chill seeps through my body
Frozen thoughts shiver

On my silent doorsteps
A wreath of roses scattered
My heavy eyelids flicker
A mirror lay shattered

A blade of grass, a dagger
Before my weary heart
Blistered lips move
Things fall apart

These dusty thoughts
Ashes on my eyes
These tranquillizer dreams
Fill my night skies

The autumn leaves fall
Gently floating flakes
They land on my bed
For you, my heart aches