- I literally had no idea who Justin Bieber was until about 4 weeks ago. I still don't really know anything about the dude, except for the fact that Phil thinks he's charming and Jared hates him with a perfect hatred.

- I'm looking forward to the Gospel Wakefulness Conference. I hope I win a door prize.

- Farewell, Rob Bell.

- I still love my Kindle, like a man loves a woman -- well, not quite like that I guess. The iPad, smartphone, and Nook snobs just don't understand the beauty of a high-tech device that isn't backlit and doesn't have a touch screen. At breakfast one day, a friend of mine said, "If it's not backlit, how do you read it?" I picked up the menu and said, "The same way you read this."

- The other night there wasn't a cloud in the sky. I was walking to our barn to close the chicken coop, and was just dumbstruck by the beauty of the night sky. No painting, no piece of music, no human creation at all, could be as beautiful as the moon and the thousands (millions?) of twinkling lights, shooting stars (saw one), and other heavenly delights that are ours to enjoy, just by looking upwards at night. Wow.

- Farewell, Bigfoot atheists. (Just kidding. Maybe. We'll see. Fingers crossed. :-)

- This clip is funny and scary all at the same time. Hat tip to my homey at Counted As Righteousness:



- Have a great Saturday. Here in Waco, the weather is drop dead gorgeous.

- Oh, on more thing:

Where oh where can my Billboy, be? The Lord took him away from me. He's gone to Heaven [apparently], so I've got to be good, so I can see my Billboy when I leave this world [this is bad theology, by the way]

I love you!

I've been going through a lot of personal turmoil lately, documenting much of that journey on a personal blog that only a handful of people have access to. Through this season I've seen the grace of God in the Body of Christ like never before, from my wife who's as strong as one of the decades-old oak trees on our little farm, because her roots run deep into the soil of God's word; to my cell group leaders who have been with me every step of the way, on an almost daily basis; to my family whose prayers have sustained me; to my boss, who has the tender heart of a shepherd; to my Thinklings brothers who continually lift my family before the Throne of Grace; to all of my friends and co-workers who love me in tangible ways -- they weep when I weep, and rejoice when I rejoice. I've been blessed.

A few weeks ago on the aforementioned blog, I posted a bit about some of C.S. Lewis' observations in A Grief Observed. I tried reading that book in 1998, and despite being a huge Lewis fanboy, I couldn't get into it, so I dropped it. I picked it up again a few months ago, in the belly of a dark pit, and literally stayed up all night reading it, dog-earing it, ruminating on it, and resonating with it. My friend was talking to me, and I was ready to listen.

Since we're talking about C.S. Lewis these days on this blog, I thought I'd post that blog post here, in full. It's titled, "The Drill Drills On":

Aren't all these notes the senseless writhings of a man who won't accept the fact that there is nothing we can do with suffering except to suffer it? Who still thinks there is some device (if only he could find it) which will make pain not to be pain. It doesn't really matter whether you grip the arms of the dentist's chair or let your hands lie in your lap. The drill drills on.

And grief still feels like fear. Perhaps, more strictly, like suspense. Or like waiting; just hanging about waiting for something to happen. It gives life a permanently provisional feeling. It doesn't seem worth starting anything. I can't settle down. I yawn, I fidget, I smoke too much. Up till this I always had too little time. Now there is nothing but time. Almost pure time, empty successiveness.

-- C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

C.S. Lewis is like a beloved friend of mine. Through all of my adult life he's been a source of wonder and encouragement to me, because he's a cerebral dreamer who could write a masterpiece for a child (The Chronicles of Narnia) as seemingly easily as he could write the most profound and weighty theological treatise (e.g. The Problem of Pain) and everything in between (e.g. The Screwtape Letters).

I remember being on my bed as a 17-year-old boy, reading the final paragraphs of Mere Christianity:

Give up yourself, and you will find your real self. Lose your life and you will save it. Submit to death, death of your ambitions and and favourite wishes every day and death of your whole body in the end: submit with every fibre of your being, and you will find eternal life.

Keep back nothing. Nothing that you have not given away will be really yours. Nothing in you that has not died will ever be raised from the dead. Look for yourself, and you will find in the long run only hatred, loneliness, despair, rage, ruin, and decay. but look for Christ and you will find Him, and with Him everything else thrown in.

Those words pierced me. I was a snotty-nosed kid, dumbfounded by the words of a dead British man. I still had many years of duplicity ahead of me -- stormy waters to glide over before truly submitting to death. But I knew the way, and Lewis had shown it to me.

And now as a 34-year-old man, his words mean even more. So when he talks about pain and suffering, I listen. He is my master, and I am his pupil.

Sometimes all that I see is darkness. Thank God that Lewis' light continues to shine in that darkness, so that I glorify his Father in heaven (Matthew 5:16).

Back in the day, about 100 years ago or more, liberal Protestant theology was all the rage (or at least gaining in popularity). As a result a group of conservative Protestant clergymen published a truckload of essays that are collectively known as The Fundamentals. From that fertilized egg, the modern fundamentalist movement hatched. (And depending on your point of view, the resulting bird is either a chicken or an eagle.)

Being a center-right guy myself (though not a fundamentalist), I thought it would be fun to start another world-conquering, King James-based movement kick around some ideas of what you all think are the fundamentals of the Christian faith.

Here's the way it works, without thinking too much about it, and without looking up your proposed position in Wikipedia, leave a comment detailing your "fundamental" and why you think that point of theology or doctrine is essential to authentic, orthodox Christianity. (You'll get bonus points if you have Scripture to bolster your position. Unless of course your position is something like, Church Tradition Trumps Scripture Every Single Time.) This isn't an attempt to start a flame war, and there won't be any getting up in anyone's face (at least not on my side of things). In short, be nice.

So, I'll start:

My fundamental is baptism. It's essential because a) we're commanded to do it (along with repentance) (Acts 2:38), b) JESUS linked it closely to salvation (Mark 16:16, etc.), c) inasmuch as it is an "appeal to God for a good conscience" it "now saves you" (1 Peter 3:21), d) there is no such thing as a non-baptized Christian in the New Testament.*

That's it. That's my fundamental. It's not what I think to be the primary fundamental of the faith, but I do consider baptism to be essential to an authentically lived Christian life.

Now, what's yours?

*Update -- Except for the thief on the cross.

We posted three videos on a row. What are we, NBC?

As a break in the programming, I'll throw out some quotations from Karl Barth's Evangelical Theology:

The Word of God is the Word that God spoke, speaks, and will speak in the midst of all men. . . . It is the Word of God's work upon men, for men, and with men. His work is not mute; rather, it speaks with a loud voice. (Pg. 18)

That man who refuses to listen and to obey the Word acts not as a free man but as a slave, for there is no freedom except through God's Word. We are speaking of the God of the Gospel, his work and action, and of the Gospel in which his work and action are at the same time his speech. (Pg. 19)

The Spirit is himself God, the same one God who is also the Father and the Son; he acts both as Creator and Reconciler, as the Lord of the covenant. As this very Lord, however, he now dwells, has dwelt, and will dwell in men. He dwells not only among them but also in them by the enlightening power of his action. It is that flowing air and moving atmosphere in which men may live, think, and speak wholly and entirely freed from presuppositions -- for they are men who know the spirit and are known by him, men called by him and obedient to him, his children begotten by his Word. (Pg. 54)

The object of theological work is not some thing but some one. . . . This object is not an "It" but a "He." And He, this One, exists not as an idle and mute being for Himself, but precisely in His work which is also His word. (Pg. 163)

I believe Christians will be talking about John Piper hundreds of years from now in much the same way people currently talk about guys like John Wesley, Jonathan Edwards, and Charles Spurgeon.

In this short clip Piper expounds on Romans 8:31-39, explaining what "more than conquerors" means.

Sometimes that word is what I'd use to describe God. In reality, it's more likely that the distance is something cerebral, inside of me, something that I can't quite wrap words -- or thoughts -- around. At least not precisely.

Whoever first quipped that God created man in His image and man returned the favor, had a keen (although perhaps brief) insight into the heart of man: a heart that longs, in the most inappropriate ways, to be like God (Gen. 3:5), and a heart that longs, in the most appropriate ways, to be like God (Matt. 5:48).

In the end, I think, such anthropomorphism about the nature of God has little use because He's God ... and we're human. (Of course, the caveat is He's the God who became human!) If His ways are truly higher than ours -- and, indeed, they are -- then even the God-man, JESUS the Christ, whose name means Yahweh is Salvation, should be recognized and praised as God who became man, and not man who became God. Man's never been able to figure out the trick to the latter, and, in the end, history would indicate that such a path leads to a life that offers neither God nor man, because to be truly human, I suppose, would necessitate being in communion with one's Creator -- and that doesn't work too well when you're trying to be Him.

With all that said, I don't understand God, and I never will. I read His book, and it's alive. More alive than I am. More real than I am. Only men moved (possessed?) by the Holy Spirit could write such a book.

To be literate, living in the 21st century, and to have a leather-bound Bible at one's fingertips is really a bit overwhelming. It's like playing with a Lion: it might lick you, it might make you feel safe, but it's never going to be your pet, because the reality is, it could devour you. "Our God is a consuming fire" (Hebrews 12:29).

The conclusion, then, is that God, while full of grace and truth (John 1:14), is often a source of destruction (and I say that in the most positive way). In the end, I've found He burns and devours everything that's not of Him -- it's the painful part of being conformed to the image of His Son (Romans 8:29).

It hurts. Like hell.

(I posted this on my solo blog a couple of days ago.)

My lovely wife told me that she had a dream last night and that she thought that it "meant something." I'm a pretty weak dream interpreter, so, sadly, I didn't really have any profound insight for her.

I do think, though, that God frequently speaks to people through dreams. For the past few years I've had "God dreams" on a semi-frequent basis. I can't quite put my finger on what makes a dream so obviously from Yahweh, as opposed to just a random Ronald-McDonald-walking-through-the-street type dream, but I do know that some dreams I have simply resonate with me, and I feel like I know that God is trying to tell me something.

A good friend of mine seems to be gifted in interpretation of dreams, so after a big dream I often call or email him to get his thoughts. Most of the time I think his interpretations are pretty much right on, but other times I've dismissed his thoughts in favor of something else I think God is trying to tell me. It's not an exact science.

What do you all think? Has God ever spoken to you all through dreams?

Once again I have the privilege this year of photographing my church's annual missions conference, World Mandate.

World Mandate, which is happening this coming weekend, convenes at the Ferrel Center in Waco every year. So if you're in the area, feel free to drop by. You might even meet your future spouse there (I met my wife at World Mandate in 1995 :-).

Continuing the tradition ...

Merry Christmas to everyone out there in the blogosphere.

I'm pretty sure this is a sign of the parousia.

There's a famous (to U2 fans at least) line in U2's masterpiece, "One":

We get to carry each other
Carry each other

Bono & Co. feel frustrated when people hear the song and assume the lyrics are saying "We got to carry each other," rather than get, which, obviously, adds quite a difference to the meaning of the overall phrase.

Thinklings Junior Member and long-time commenter, Andrew Roberts, has a well-done review in The Baylor Lariat of a new book that encompasses so much more than Get vs. Got, though I'm sure the book touches on that subject as well. Check it out.

On his solo blog, Jared wrote a poignant post on the nature of duplicity. It's aptly titled, "Who You Are When No One's Looking Is Who You Are."

Here's a taste:

This week retired NFL quarterback Steve McNair, one of my family's favorite athletes, was found shot to death from an apparent murder-suicide with his twenty year-old drug addict girlfriend, whom he was cheating on his wife of 12 years with. Most everyone was shocked, including people like my wife who thought he was sweet and nice, especially after she ran into him at a local eatery once and he gave her a hug and spent a minute chatting with her.

His friends and teammates have been saying things like, "This wasn't Steve." They're talking about the "real" Steve, the Steve who did charity work and gave the fabled 110% on the football field, as if this Steve, the Steve who maintained an adulterous, drug-addled relationship, was not real, or at least, not really him, but just a mistake he made, as if adultery is something you trip into or catch like a cold.

But the Steve McNair we didn't see was the real Steve McNair. The one he showed us was not. Or at least, it wasn't the fullness of him.

And who I am in the moments when I know I don't have to perform for anybody, the who I am in my heart and mind, what I'm thinking and feeling and wanting to do and what I'm doing when I don't think anybody will find out -- that is me. The real me.

We are not good people who make mistakes, none of us. We are sinners, always. We are sinners who need to repent.
So long as we think of the grossest parts of ourselves as "not really us," we will fail to respond to and wonder in the gospel. Because if the real us is already okay, we need no rescue.

He's right. If you're a pr()n surfing husband, an adulterer, a thief, a liar, or a millionaire ex-quarterback with a double life, the real you is the person you are when no one is looking. The question to ask yourself is, what do you default to when no one is looking?

"But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us" (Romans 5:8).

Some relatively new friends of ours invited us over to their home for dinner Saturday night. Unfortunately we weren't able to make it. What was surprising to me, though, was that I think that was the first time in about a year and a half that we had been invited over to anyone's home.

My wife Brandi loves to be hospitable. She loves to cook, make the house ready for guests, roll out the proverbial red carpet, et cetera. Due to her inclination toward hospitality we've had people over to our home at least 30 times over the past year. And her bent toward hospitality makes the contrast all the more apparent to me. Are people just not hospitable anymore?

I think for a variety of reasons our family may unintentionally intimidate people into not inviting us over (for example, we have three kids and two of them have special diets). I can understand people's apprehension with specialized diets, but by now we're used to taking the kids' food with us wherever we go, so it's no big deal to us. That's all conjecture anyway. I really have no idea what the deal is, and maybe it's a variety of issues.

What I'm really wondering is whether in our busy, cloistered, independent, self-sufficient, private lifestyles, Americans -- and especially American Christians -- have lost site of what it means to be hospitable?

What's your experience with this sort of thing?

I've been so tied up lately I didn't have a chance to post my thoughts on David Copperfield's roadshow that my wife and I attended on Tuesday evening. In a word: awesome!

Probably the best illusion he did was "The Fan." In that illusion he walked into a moving fan, disappeared for a second or two, and then majestically reappeared on the floor in the middle of the audience. The trick was not unlike "The Transported Man" as showcased in The Prestige. Unbelievable.

He also did plenty of other cool things like making a car appear out of thin air, making an audience member's neck tie dance around and sing, and reading people's minds by guessing what numbers are in their heads. Oh, he also had a pretty cool duck that kept walking around the stage. At one point he magically transported the duck from a box to a bucket -- that was pretty cool.

He did "vanish" 13 members of the audience, but that illusion wasn't nearly as cool as some of his other illusions.

The show was definitely worth the time and money!

The master of modern magicians, David Copperfield, is bringing his road show, "An Intimate Evening Of Grand Illusion," to Waco, Texas tonight. Supposedly he's going to do things like make 13 members of the audience vanish and then reappear. Oh, pick me! Pick me! Pick me!

As an amateur conjurer, I can't express how giddy I am to see Copperfield tonight. I'm counting the seconds ...

In order to honor Billboy, I'm posting this so that we can knock all Bono discussion off the top of the Thinklings list.

Billboy, this is for you!

PALIN 2012!