Thursday, September 29, 2005


I'm a little unsatisfied with my blog's appearance. Now I'm not big on decoration. I mean, so it's a little spartan, big deal. But, unfortunately, much of the simplicity rises up out of my technical ignorance; I grab a ready-made template and get to work. That's not so bad, when it comes down to it, but it leaves me feeling small and ordinary.

I would like to have a nice masthead, for starters. Maybe add a booklist. I would like the site to sizzle with Cool.

I have tried to do little things, here and there, experimenting with my blog's design and function. I even put a site meter on it briefly. But I had to pull it off because I felt too much like King David taking a census. I'm still waiting for all of you to be struck down with a plague for my transgression. I apologize ahead of time for When It Happens. (That's not to condemn all of you sinners with site meters, by the way.)

This Web log is not about Pretty, Snappy, Big, or Cool. These are my stories. I want them, taken together, to be a reflection of who I am. Through them, I want to seize Life and hold it fast here, until it blesses me. To some extent, I just want to find some pleasure as I wander.

Ten years from now, today will be a non-memory for most. Blogs might have run their course. Our virtual communities might be scattered and shepherdless. That's okay. I'll remember.

I'll also remember that Will had a runny nose as he toddled between chair and couch. That Avery was wearing a Barbie nightgown and that Anna had a purple star bracelet on her right ankle. I'll remember that today is the day we left for a long weekend at Myrtle Beach. And that the toes on my right foot were driving me crazy with their itching.

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

All Things New

Avery and the Mountain
Originally uploaded by sixlyons.

For me, one of the most moving scenes in The Passion of the Christ is when Christ stumbles under the weight of the cross and his mother runs up to embrace him. Mary is caught out of time and remembers her baby boy stumbling and scraping his hands and knees. Now, covered in blood, Jesus looks at her and says, "See, Mother, I make all things new."

It never even happened.

And while the scene is extra-biblical, the story is true. This man, who only yesterday was a child, is being led to a cruel death on a cross. And in doing so, he is making all things new. He is establishing his kingdom.

The heart of God is reflected in his desire to make all things new. New heavens, a new earth, and new people. A new creation.

We have a tendency to believe that God re-creates because God believes the old is garbage. But that's absolutely wrong. The old is suffering under the weight of sin. So he recreates it. He makes it new. He removes the curse. He redeems the world because he loves it.

Re-creation has nothing to do with the old's worthlessness, but rather with its irreplaceable worth. We fix old things to make them like-new because of our affections for them. We invest in the old. We spend time with it. We artistically restore it like a classic car, restored beautifully to life. The old is not replaced with the next best thing. The old is made new because there is nothing better.

God loves this world. And, in his love for us, he has called us to participate in redemption, in re-creation, in making all things new.

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Accelerate This

Navy Promo
Originally uploaded by sixlyons.

I recently saw a U.S. Navy commercial belittling men like me (real men). Have you seen it? It shows men doing Navy stuff - manly let's-kill-people stuff. And then it shows a Napoleon Dynamite type shopping for a new minivan. The voiceover says something along the lines of, "Hey, you could be this poor schmuck."

I couldn't stop laughing, for so many reasons.

Monday, September 26, 2005

The Parlor Is Empty

The spider is gone. There's another, smaller black and yellow argiope on our fence, but the big one I took the picture of is gone. It's strange: I've spent so much time watching her, fascinated by her and the beauty of her web. But now her web is empty, dirty, and broken in spots (she eats her web and re-spins it each night). I looked for the egg sac down in the hosta to see if she had left spring for the next generation. I couldn't find it. She's gone and our yard is less without her.

I think the hardest part is that she didn't even say goodbye.

Thursday, September 22, 2005

Said the Spider

Originally uploaded by sixlyons.

Spiders are amazing, at a distance. I am a slight arachnophobe, or, if you like, a wuss. I know they're not going to hurt me. I know that I am 432 times bigger than they are. But, you see, they've got so many legs. And they're hairy. And, let's be frank, who needs that many eyes?

This black and yellow argiope is gorgeous, and is perched in the hosta next to our carport. And though the spider is beautiful, I don't want to find it in my house or hanging above my bed as I wake up. I certainly wouldn't want it crawling toward me as I went to the bathroom. (Speaking from experience, however, the bottom of the trash can works in a pinch.) The spider is roughly 9 cm from claw to claw (kitty-corner). That's precisely huge. Now maybe you live in a rain forest and you're chuckling at my "little" spider. Maybe so. But I come from the Great White North, nearly, and spiders don't reach this size unless they are feeding on radioactive bugs. There's something deep down that tells me they just aren't supposed to be this big. But North Carolina does things differently. They keep the temperature cranked up to 90 until October. When they say barbeque, they don't mean chicken or ribs, but chopped pork (which, by the way, is delectable). And when they say spiders, they mean monsters that pull babies from their cribs.

I've told the kids they can look at the spider, but they cannot touch it or its web. I can imagine going outside and seeing the spider wrapping up the boy in a slew of web. Worse yet, perhaps, would be to go outside and see those long, hairy legs poking out from the boy's grinning mouth.

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

You Are Our Father (Is. 63)

The yellow-haired child awards me with smiles, but none change the shape of my face. The boy pats my back as I hold him, but I am not comforted. The drawings that normally amaze me, seem colorless. The silliness of Wisdom fails to shake me.

Though I am dutiful, I am only skin deep. Something aches inside. Something cries. I am lost because he has left me. And I do not know the way home.

So here I am. He bereaves me of speech and then asks of me songs. How do you sing without words? From whom do you seek help when God fights against you?

Monday, September 19, 2005

Just When You Thought It Was Safe

Ross has sent a meme my way, to better torment me . . . I mean, know me.

5 things I plan to do before I die:
(Though many may scoff, and scorn me with a great scorn.)

  • Write at least one book
  • Create greater unity within the church
  • Finish reading War and Peace
  • Fully enjoy my family
  • Hold my grandbabies

5 things I can do:
(most days)

  • Write/Read
  • Teach/Learn
  • Put off till tomorrow what needs to be done today
  • Put bows in my daughters' hair
  • Cook

5 things I cannot do:
(. . . well, ever)

  • Walk away from a perfectly good pizza
  • Fix a car
  • Watch an entire baseball game
  • Kill a bug without feeling remorse (unless they are biting or stinging, or thinking about either)
  • Say goodbye

5 things that attract me to other people:
(I just like these kinds of people.)

  • Compassion
  • Kindness
  • Grace
  • Humor
  • Words, words, words

5 things I say most often:

  • Where's your mother?
  • Sophie! Anna! Avery! Will! Laura!
  • I'm tired.
  • Be nice.
  • I don't know.

5 celebrity crushes:
(I do not have said crushes. But if I did, here are five that spring to mind.)

  • Audrey Hepburn
  • Catherine Zeta-Jones
  • Halle Berry
  • Ziyi Zhang
  • Alison Krauss

5 people I want to do this:
(Though I know some won't because they are morally opposed to memes.)

Friday, September 16, 2005


It is my birthday today. Celebrate with me! I am 35. Not young or old, 35. I'm happy being 35. 5s and 10s are good, round numbers. 35 beats 34 hands down.

Turning 35 is probably not much different than turning 30 or 68 or 22. I am still me. Though I still wonder sometimes what it is to be me, and what it means to be man-me. I thought it would be a more certain, a more sure thing, growing older. More knowing involved, I figured. But all the knowing only makes me know how little-knowing I am. And that's okay.

Life is not puzzle pieces waiting to be pieced together, but paints waiting to be painted with. It is not neat, but it is colorful. It is not precise, but it is perfect. There is a rightness about life that reveals itself in my children's smiles, my wife's love, and the change of seasons.

Let me tell you a secret: I have loved life. I have loved that even my imperfections and failures and sins have been used that I might better know and love people and better know and love God. I have loved being married to my wife. She knows me, and even in the knowing, she loves me. I have loved having children. It is difficult to express how much I have loved having children.

I love life.

Don't misread me: This world is full of tears. My world is full of tears. But right now, right now I feel as if joy (insurmountable, ineffable joy) will one day split me open, unveiling itself before an unsuspecting, tear-stained world.

Thursday, September 15, 2005


My wife and the kids have gone to bed. I've settled down with my laptop, and iTunes is pumping Switchfoot's newest into my noggin ("You are golden / You are golden, child / You are golden / Don't let go / Don't let go tonight"). I have the laundry going so that I'll have clean underwear and towels tomorrow. My purpose is to sit down and do a nice stroke of work, a good little post, for my insomniac friend when she wakes up at 4 a.m. She'd like that, I think. I haven't written two sentences before I'm reclining next to my wife on an Antiguan beach, sipping beer, and watching elephants swim by.

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

A Kingdom Kalled Krispy Kreme

It's not often you get to wake up to small, airy doughnuts, clothed in a toothsome film of translucent yum. It's hard to start a morning badly when these golden O's wait and want to throw themselves into your rumbling maw. And this morning it happened. Blue skies, a smile on everyone's face - it makes me think that all mankind could come together as one under the glowing, hot-now banner.

The kingdom began a few minutes up the road from me, in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. You might think that there would be a theme park in Old Salem dedicated to the Original Glazed, but there is not. It is a quiet and humble kingdom. They needn't have castles and fairies and mice to spread the good news of the Original Glazed. They needn't have snappy songs, "Today is Tuesday, you know what that means? We have a special guest today," with doughnuts tied to the heads of adolescents. They need only a window onto which pilgrims and devotees may press their chubby faces and watch the little rings of dough be transfigured into the Original Glazed.

The kingdom presses on. And the doors of Dunkin' shall not stand against it.

My daughter Anna sat in the chair with an Original Glazed doughnut in front of her for ten minutes. She hadn't touched it. I looked down at my belly, to remind myself of her goodly heritage, and I looked at the little four-year-old stick figure demonstrating such painfully severe discipline. "Anna, you gonna eat that doughnut?"

"I am going to if you'd stop talking to me," she said. And she did. Once I stopped talking to her.

Monday, September 12, 2005

Update on Will

Will's knee is looking much better. Laura took him back to the pediatrician Saturday and that doctor said she thought it might be from a bug bite. But at that point, we could see that the swelling and redness had gone down from the line I'd drawn around his boo-boo. The medicine seems to be working. I don't think it's going to abscess - the redness is almost gone at this point.

His face and head is, however, now covered in purple fingernail polish that gives a "deep, wet" look - it will probably be in his hair the longest. Many thanks to the yellow-haired child, who used the rest of the polish on the outside of the house and saved a tiny dab for the cat.

Friday, September 09, 2005

Will's Boo-Boo

We were heading over to the pediatrician's office this morning because Will's knee is slightly swollen and red. It appears that while he was crawling outside he got some kind of splinter in it. Right now, he has a spot nearly two inches long, nearly one inch wide, and it's red, slightly swollen, and hard. Anna and Avery were asking me why we were going to the doctor's office and I explained to them that a boo-boo on Will's knee was swollen and hard. Avery said, "Like my butt?" Sometimes you just have to laugh. (I don't know where she's picked up that language - probably from church.)

(By the way, Will has some antibiotics and will be going back to the doctor's tomorrow morning. We are just watching for changes right now and watching it in case it abscesses. If it gets mushy [abscesses] then the doctor will get to cut it open and drain it. Fun, eh?)

Thursday, September 08, 2005

All His Judgments Are Just

"Let the people on Mount Zion rejoice.
Let the towns of Judah be glad,
for your judgments are just"
- Ps. 48.11, NLT

I have heard more than just whisperings about Katrina's being the judgment of God. I must disagree. In fact, I must say that to suggest it as such is potentially dangerous. In this post I will be discussing the judgment of God and the proper response of believers to disaster.

Here's what I've heard: (1) There was to be a homosexual "party" in the Big Easy that was canceled due to Katrina, (2) All the casinos along the Mississippi coast were destroyed due to Katrina, (3) New Orleans is renowned for its riotous parties, (4) all the Christian rock music in our churches has brought upon us the judgment of God (since judgment begins with the house of God), and (5) it is the natural result from our abuse of the environment. So let's talk about these reasons. Are these reasons deserving of the disaster that Katrina incurred? Yes, they are. (Except for Reason 4, which is the ridiculous soapbox of a godly man from another generation who insists that all music should be 1930s- and 1940s-style gospel music. There are worse things the church would be judged for before it would be judged for its choice of music. Reason 5 we'll have to discuss some other time.) Does God judge people for their sin? Yes, He does. Do innocent people suffer as a result of God's judgment on a community/nation? Yes, invariably they do. Daniel and his friends were godly young men, yet they were dragged into exile just as the ungodly were from their neighborhood.

In spite of these things, however, I first have to ask myself, "Who was hardest hit by Katrina? What people were primarily 'judged' by this storm?" It was the poor, the unloved, the marginalized. It seems to me that the judgment of God would at least primarily strike those deserving of the judgment (if I am to judge it). It seems to me that the casino owners merely lost money while the poor lost everything. It seems to me that the homosexuals were nowhere near New Orleans. It seems to me, that this is not how the judgment of God works. And if it does, then it is a poor judgment. (Again, I am speaking as if I am capable of making such a judgment.)

Second, Luke tells the story of how 18 people were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them. Jesus says that their sin was not greater than those who were not killed in the disaster, that their sin was no greater than yours and mine. And therefore we need to repent lest something similar happen to us. So what do we learn from this story? What is Jesus telling us about disasters? I believe he is saying that my sin is as great as the homosexual's sin and that both of us deserve judgment. I believe that he is also saying that it is proper for believers to keep their mouths shut in the face of disaster because we deserve it as much as they. Does this argument mean that the Gulf coast wasn't judged? No, but it does argue against a believer's right to point a finger in judgment. If it is judgment, it is God's just judgment on people like you and me, and our only response ought to be holy service to those suffering.

Jesus says, Judge not lest you be judged. Believers are always quick to say that surely we need to call sin, sin. Surely that. Jesus, however, does not qualify his statement. He simply says that we are not to point the finger at others and condemn them for their sin - for we are sinners too (and perhaps our pride is the greater sin). James, in chapter 4, reiterates this truth about judgment. He says, "Don't speak evil against each other, my dear brothers and sisters. If you criticize each other and condemn each other, then you are criticizing and condemning God's law. But you are not a judge who can decide whether the law is right or wrong. Your job is to obey it. God alone, who made the law, can rightly judge among us. He alone has the power to save or to destroy. So what right do you have to condemn your neighbor?" (James 4.11,12).

Third, Job teaches us that disaster befalls the righteous just as it does the unrighteous. Disaster does not equal judgment. If it does, then it necessarily must for every disaster: For the loss of my job, for a friend's cancer, for a church's burning to the ground or flooding, for the death or the dying of a church, for the accident that leaves a sister paraplegic. Is every disaster the judgment of God? No. Is every disaster allowed by God? Yes, for He is surely sovereign. And, as Martin Luther said, at the end of the day even the devil is God's devil.

So here is my conclusion about Katrina: It was a natural disaster, divinely permitted. As believers we are to be vehicles of God's grace to those put in need because of this disaster. We are to serve selflessly. We are to speak with our hands and our feet and our wallets. We are to speak comfort and not judgment - we are not even to discuss the possibility of judgment with one another. We are to realize that we all deserve God's judgment, and yet we daily experience His grace. Therefore we must withhold our own judgment and be concerned only with showing grace and love to others. Otherwise we play the part of the unmerciful servant.

Christians need to stop judging others, especially brothers and sisters. We were not called to condemn one another. We were called to be a community of Christ followers, working to reconcile all people to God.

Wednesday, September 07, 2005


On Labor Day, Sophie was working on writing some color words and Laura told her to look at the end of the crayon to find the color word, in order to write it correctly. Last night, as we were looking over Sophie's daily work, we found an "algebra" sheet on patterning that asked which color in the pattern would Sophie expect to show up more times, green or yellow. The blank on Sophie's sheet said, "crayola."

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

Jon Teusink Was Right

Jon and I sat at the table in the library. It was study hall and we were whispering-arguing about the merits of U2's Joshua Tree. He was trying to convince me of its Christian value and its coolness quotient, while I was having none of it.

Fast forward nearly twenty years. I'm driving down the road in my minivan, "With or Without You" is playing on my phat Windstar speakers through my sweet iPod. I'm on drums and lead vocals. My four-year-old, Anna, is on guitar, air-fretting in the backseat and providing back-up vocals. The windows are down. Life is good. And Jon, wherever you are, you were right.

Yard Clippings

It's blessedly cool this morning. It has been a hot summer and this week is supposed to be in the low 80s. Some like it hot. But I do not. We went to the zoo yesterday and it was cool compared to our last few visits, but it was still warm. When we were leaving the zoo, we sat down on a bench in the shade and Anna and Avery lay down on the ground to rest. Will crawled around inquisitively, alone, planning his first steps later that day. He loves being outdoors. The morning glories are beautiful this morning, from periwinkle to purple. They seem intent on taking over the yard, though they are only the age of my son. They're beautiful. The sun is behind some clouds, but it is not too cold, contrary to the whining of my little pansies. It is mild and breezy. Anna just brought out a blanket and a pillow and she and the yellow-haired child are lying down on the patio. The crape-myrtles are blooming lavender and hot pink. The hostas are fading. The pumpkin vine is blooming. Its blossoms are vibrant orange, brimming with life while other plants are beginning to shudder and draw in. The mimosa continues to grow along with the expatriated Michigan lilac. Some of the river birch leaves are yellowing. Will stands on the bench, pounding the keyboard, curious about everything. The Chief Justice is dead. Sandra's tears are woeful, beautiful. Prayer, mild and cool. Leaves of scriptures, greening. The hydrangea is a beautiful palette of so many colors, changing as the seasons change. Some of the flowers are autumnal while a few branches bloom vernal - bright blue in their ignorance. They are happy to be blue. Little oak trees spring up in unexpected places, unihihibited by my vision or plans. Weeds abound. The eaves need de-leaving, de-mucking, de-sapling-ing. This is it, isn't it? Creation. Life. Growing and changing. Perpetuated. Perpetuating. It is diverse and content in its diversity. The liriope does not wish to be the periwinkle. The oaks do not envy the maple. Will hands me his empty juice cup and then follows me to the refrigerator crying, unsure if he was understood. He is unsure if his cup will end up filled with more juice or simply be dropped in the sink. He is unsure and unhappy until he sees the blushing strawberry lemonade. The monkey-boy sits in the pantry and munches on a banana.

Saturday, September 03, 2005

Pomophobic 2?

I was going to respond to comments, but decided to just post, since my response ran on and on.

First, I appreciate all of your comments. And thank you elizabeth and kew for stopping by - I always enjoy hearing from new people (they're so shiny), even when they disagree.

Second, I don't like making statements of belief that draw a line between me and another person as I did, to some degree, in my previous post. Sometimes it is necessary and that particular post woke me in the early hours in order to be written. I have great respect for Rob Bell and what he is doing. I have great respect for so many others who engage postmodernism to reach the hearts of postmodern people.

I don't believe that postmodernity is the enemy. It just is. I don't believe that it will steal anything from me. At least, I'm getting more to that place of trust/strength that the gospel is bigger than you and I and the traditions we are comfortable in or have left, with baggage.

My thinking is probably more postmodern than I care to admit. We cannot afford to be tyrannical in our knowing, in our believing. We are always, only, humble servants, simply doing that which is required of us. We have no right to judge our brothers and sisters as they journey their separate roads.

"Do not speak evil against one another, brothers. The one who speaks against a brother or judges his brother, speaks evil against the law and judges the law. But if you judge the law, you are not a doer of the law but a judge. There is only one lawgiver and judge, he who is able to save and to destroy. But who are you to judge your neighbor?"
- James 4.11,12

We are pilgrims. We love and serve others while we are on the road - as we trudge through a summer storm or as we walk along through a mild, blue-skied, autumn day. With our hands, our feet, and our lips, we proclaim Christ to those we meet along the way. And if we are fortunate, we find a quiet inn or a comfortable pub to sit down in at the end of each day with our fellow pilgrims. We eat and we drink and we talk about the Lord. We continue to love and to serve in the midst of the conversation. Each of us have had different experiences and walked different roads. The similarities of our paths are striking, and their differences are important.

Jesus would that we love one another. That includes, amazingly, our brothers and sisters in Christ. That includes evangelicals and pomos, Anglicans and Catholics, jumpers and sleepers, charismatics and Baptists. That means we stop reviling and we begin serving. That means we are re-made to proclaim Jesus as Lord in our lives and with our lips.

We are new beasts.

We no longer devour one another and seek our own propagation, our own satisfaction for our own stomachs. We feed one another, and we desire the other's well-being, even at the expense of our own. And we do it happily.

So let us, as one, celebrate our Savior Lord. Let's celebrate one another. Let's celebrate in service toward all.

Friday, September 02, 2005


Last week I spoke about my admiration for much of what Rob Bell does in Velvet Elvis. Today I want to step back to a specific subject the book addresses and then move in to the broader realm of postmodernism and how it affects us as a community of Christ followers. It won't really happen that neatly, but here's to hope.

First, for those who have not read Rob's book, he talks about biblical doctrine as springs on a trampoline - springs that stretch and change to accommodate, to lift us higher in our understanding - rather than as bricks in a wall. He states that doctrine is not the point, but that Jesus is the point.

As an example, Rob talks about a lecture that he viewed in which a six-day creationist says that if you deny a literal six-day (24-hour-per-day) creation then you deny that Jesus died on the cross (p. 26). He describes this man as someone who practices "brickianity." In other words, pull out the "brick" of a literal six-day creation and all of Christianity falls to the ground. Now, even though I believe in a literal six-day creation, I agree with Rob at this point. (Though I would argue for a literal creation account due to the problem of death arriving as a result of sin.)

Rob then continues to talk about "brickianity" and the virgin birth. If we found out tomorrow that Jesus was not born of a virgin, would our faith come crumbling down, or would the claims of Christ and the way of life he shows us to live be irrelevant? He says No. This is where I depart from Rob's thinking. We must remember that most doctrine is simply the truths we believe about Jesus according to his revelation. Therefore it is difficult, if not impossible, to jettison the doctrine without also abandoning the person of Christ.

For instance, could the same example about doctrine be stated about the doctrine of the resurrection? If we discovered the bones of Christ, could we continue to be Christians? Paul says No. He says that if Christ wasn't raised from the dead, then we are to be pitied above all people - that our faith is useless/foolish (1 Cor. 15).

Likewise, if Jesus was not born of a virgin, what happens to the incarnation? We lose the deity of Christ, don't we?

Specifically, that's the only beef I have with Rob's thinking. And it is just his thinking - he does affirm his belief in the virgin birth and in biblical doctrine, but Christianity is about Jesus and not a set of beliefs, and he tries to make that equally clear.

This brings me, more broadly, to postmodern thought in the church. I understand some about postmodernism, though it does a good job of evading definition (it must, I suppose, in order for the philosophy to hold any water). I have had my share of philosophy classes and, quite honestly, philosophy makes my brain hurt. It's a little beyond me. So I developed a simple rule about philosophy for myself: If it doesn't jibe with what is easily demonstrable or observable in real life - with how the world works - then it's excrement.

Hello, postmodernism. Postmodernism is uncomfortable with truth. More accurately, I suppose, postmodernism is uncomfortable with someone being able to know truth. Now, I get this at some level. I understand my generation's beef with people saying, "This is the way it has to be. There can be no more questions." People are cat-skinners, meaning that we are firm believers that there is more than one way to skin one when we disagree with the current opinion, perspective, or rule. So I get it. I understand when I give my interpretation of what a passage of Scripture is saying that it might not be half of what God meant it to be. I understand that my interpretation of what that passage means might change tomorrow. I have incomplete knowledge.

That admission is not the same thing, however, as admitting that I cannot know what I know absolutely. I know some things in my bones. The sun rises, seasons change, gravity holds me, love surrounds me. Now I hear all of you out there picking - "The sun doesn't really rise, and even on earth the sun doesn't always even appear to rise," or "What you mean by 'seasons' never even occurs over much of the earth." And so on. Yes, I know. Yet, in spite of your picking, you understand exactly what I mean. When I say, "The sun rises" are you totally confused - hopelessly searching for the meaning, for what is signified behind those signifiers? Of course not. You know exactly what I'm talking about, so hush. If I were with the Inuit during the dark winter months, I might tack on the word "eventually." So hush.

You see, when we speak to one another, we understand, for the most part. Pomos like to show how we don't get it. But we mostly do. It is not amazing that there is miscommunication in our world. It's amazing that so much is communicated. We communicate phenomenally well. Is communication perfect? No, it isn't. Ask any wife. Ask any husband. Ask any McDonald's customer. Communication doesn't have to be perfect, however. It works quite well. And until a new, better way to communicate is invented, let's not go throwing rocks at it.

Now to all my pomo bros and sisses out there, I say only one thing: Logos. The Word. Wisdom. Reason. The Definition of both God and Man. Not only Definition but also Definer. He gives structure to all truth. He created it, He defines it, He knows it. And the Definition infuses structure and truth to all that He reaches (and He reaches it all). All life is infused with meaning because of the Life.

Doctrine is not the enemy. The doctrines (teachings) surrounding Logos are simply our descriptions of His revelation. And they are accurate descriptions, as accurate as they need or ought to be. We've got to accept His revelation. We've got to receive it. Logos is.

What's the point, Lyons? My point is simply that we can be comfortable knowing, without being tyrannical in our knowing. The truth in love, brothers, sisters.

So as one, let's celebrate that God has revealed Himself to us clearly, accessibly. Let's celebrate growing in our knowledge of Him. Let's celebrate His towering mystery.

O LORD, my heart is not lifted up;
my eyes are not raised too high;
I do not occupy myself with things
too great and too marvelous for me.
But I have calmed and quieted my soul,
like a weaned child with its mother;
like a weaned child is my soul within me.

Israel, hope in the LORD
from this time forth and forevermore.
- Psalm 131, ESV