Category Archives: Faith

227. The Return of the Anti-Adam

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Hello, Adam. It’s nice to see you. Wait, did I say nice? I meant nauseating. It’s nauseating to see you.

You again? If someone has to annoy me while I’m trying to write blog posts, can’t it be the other guy?

If you’re talking about the Pro-Adam, he couldn’t make it. Don’t act surprised. You know I visit you much more often than he does.

I know, but I hoped for some variety. His empty praise is a refreshing change from your undeserved insults. What is it this time?

There are a few things, actually. May I sit?

No.

I’ll take the armchair, thank you. First of all, I think some congratulations are in order. You’ve finally given up trying to write novels. Well done! It’s about time you took my advice and stopped embarrassing yourself.

I don’t think I’m a bad writer, and I haven’t given up on The Eliot Papers. I’ve just put the project on hold indefinitely. I believe my circumstances made it necessary.

When you say “my circumstances,” I presume you’re referring to your lack of ambition and talent as a writer. I understand completely. Well, at least you have your blog.

Yes. Yes I do.

Sure, I can understand giving up your lifelong dream of being an author, and instead writing blog posts about exploding tomatoes and video game mustaches and girly cartoons with ponies and rainbows. It’s not as though you could actually be writing thoughtful posts about meaningful things.

I do write about meaningful things… occasionally.

When you’re not busy being a frivolous idiot, that is.

I’m allowed to be frivolous! Heck, life would be awful if we had to be serious all the time. It’s the little things that make life livable, and the little blessings that help us appreciate the great ones.

Great blessings? Like grace? You write a lot about grace, expressing the same ideas again and again, like a lunatic muttering to himself. It’s almost as though you were trying to convince yourself of something you don’t really believe.

Belief is hard. “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief.”

And you quote somebody! It was only a matter of time. Do you have even one original idea rattling around in your head, or just a lot of quotes?

I have ideas, really. Quoting people helps me express them.

Your memory stinks. How do you keep track of so many quotes?

I have no idea.

I suppose I can’t blame you for having a bad memory. Fortunately, I can still blame you for lots of other things. Like working a menial job.

It may not pay well, but there are worse jobs than serving persons with disabilities.

And doing absolutely nothing with your college degree.

I plan to use my teaching degree sooner or later—I just renewed my educator’s license, after all!

And being antisocial.

Being introverted and being antisocial aren’t the same thing.

And being afraid of life.

Life is scary!

And making the same stupid mistakes again and again and again.

Well, I’m a human being. We all make mistakes.

Excuses, excuses. You sound awfully confident for someone who spends a lot of his time being depressed.

You’re not going to blame me for that, are you? Lots of great people have suffered from depression. Abraham Lincoln, for example, and also my dear old dad. And have you counted how many good people in the Bible showed symptoms of depression?

You’re glorifying your depression by comparing yourself to great people. That’s classy.

I’m not saying we’re alike because we’re great. I’m saying we’re alike because we’ve suffered from depression. Depression does not a great person make, but it certainly doesn’t make a person any less important or valuable.

I’ve had enough of your prattle for one day. Don’t forget what I’ve told you, Adam. I’ll be back.

Of course you will. Something tells me you’ll never be far away. It’s a good thing you’re not the only one. “The Lord is my shepherd,” and all that.

I’m leaving.

Good. On your way out, would you mind getting me a sandwich?

226. Why C.S. Lewis Is Awesome

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On November 22, 1963—exactly fifty years ago—the world lost a very great man. His name was Clive Staples Lewis, but he preferred to be called Jack. He was an academic, poet, novelist, literary critic and lay theologian. He was also a close friend and associate of J.R.R. Tolkien, the renowned writer of fantasy.

Jack was not a saint, a prophet or even an author of literary masterpieces. No, Jack was something very different and equally wonderful: a genius of varied interests, remarkable talent, deep faith and gentle humor.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the man to whom the world owes Narnia, Screwtape and a great deal of commonsense theology.

I give you C.S. Lewis, a man whom we shall never forget.

C.S. LewisRaised in a religious home, C.S. Lewis drifted into skepticism as a young man and became an atheist. It was with extreme reluctance that he returned to belief in God and eventually (with a little help from friends like Tolkien) devotion to Jesus Christ.

As an ex-atheist, Lewis devoted much thought to Christian apologetics—the rational defense of Christianity as an accurate worldview. He also dabbled in theology, penning books such as Mere Christianity and The Four Loves in which he discoursed upon faith, love and absolute morality.

Lewis’s faith blurred together with his prodigious imagination. His Narnia books wove together folklore and Greco-Roman mythology with a Christian worldview, and The Screwtape Letters explored Christian life from a diabolical point of view.

(I enjoyed The Screwtape Letters so much that I imitated them—badly—on this blog in the form of The Turnspike Emails, which I discontinued a long time ago. Forgive me, Jack.)

Lewis was—no pun intended—a jack of all trades. He dabbled in everything from theology to literary criticism to medieval studies. He wrote novels. He wrote essays. He wrote poems. The range and variety of his work is incredible.

One of Lewis’s greatest strengths was his gift for explaining things simply. Take the super-confusing concept of the Trinity: God as three persons, yet a single entity. Lewis gives the best explanation of the Trinity I have ever seen, read or heard… in three paragraphs. Three. (See Mere Christianity, Book IV, Chapter 2.)

Another example: For centuries, theologians have debated the exact relationship between faith and good works. Which is more important? By which does God save us? C.S. Lewis resolves the debate in two sentences: “Christians have often disputed as to whether what leads the Christian home is good actions, or Faith in Christ. I have no right really to speak on such a difficult question, but it does seem to me like asking which blade in a pair of scissors is more necessary.”

C.S. Lewis is idolized by some and reviled by others. He certainly wasn’t infallible, but no one can dismiss his intelligence or creativity. Personally, I find his works on Christianity remarkably insightful. The Narnia books are pretty good, The Space Trilogy rivals Doctor Who for offbeat science fiction and Till We Have Faces is simply fantastic.

For anyone interested in the Christian faith, Mere Christianity is a thoughtful work for believers and skeptics alike. The Screwtape Letters is a really clever treatise on Christian life. For sophisticated readers, Till We Have Faces is a brilliant reimagining of an ancient Greek myth; for those with simpler literary tastes, the Narnia books are fun, easy reads.

In conclusion, ladies and gentlemen, C.S. Lewis is awesome.

223. Persecution

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Remember those in prison as if you were their fellow prisoners, and those who are mistreated as if you yourselves were suffering.

Hebrews 13:3

The International Day of Prayer for the Persecuted Church takes place this month, which is my cue to write a Serious Post About Religious Persecution.

I don’t have much to say.

My last post about the International Day of Prayer for the Persecuted Church sums up pretty much all my thoughts on religious persecution, so I strongly recommend reading it here.

I conclude with a song from Michael Card, my favorite songwriter in the world. On days like these, when I have no words, this song says what I can’t.

Whether or not you are a Christian, please remember the persecuted this month. Thank you, and God bless!

220. Wishing I Had Something Wise to Say

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This was a rough week. First of all, there was snow. I don’t like snow. It’s wet and cold and awful. There’s a reason Dante put snow—well, ice, which is almost the same thing—in the innermost circle of hell.

Snow was the least of my concerns this week. I suffered from depression. This was no surprise. Depression afflicts me occasionally. Sometimes it lasts only a few hours. Sometimes it lasts a week or more.

At its worst, depression is very much like a cold. These conditions share some symptoms, such as tiredness and lethargy. Depression also inflicts apathy, mild panic, feelings of hopelessness and an inability to focus. Both conditions last anywhere from a few days to more than a week, and they’re generally infrequent—thank God.

When paralyzed by depression, I watch helplessly as chores and commitments pile up. (Yes, these sometimes include blog posts.) I huddle in my armchair when depressed, unable to focus, dreading work, wishing I could just curl up in my sleeping bag and wait for my depression to go away… and wondering whether it ever will.

Depression sucks.

This week, I stumbled through a suffocating fog of stress and fatigue. I slept a lot, and forced myself to eat, and watched some Batman videos on YouTube, and then shuffled reluctantly out the door to go to work. For the most part, I didn’t live. I merely functioned.

Then I awoke on Thursday and felt fine. My depression disappeared overnight… as always.

Every time I have bad experiences, I try to learn from them. It comforts me to find to find lessons or blessings in unpleasant circumstances. I’ve used my struggles with depression to illustrate discussions about things like grace, compassion and the importance of a positive outlook.

Not today. I wish I had something wise to say. I’d love to wrap up this week with some neat, tidy lesson, but I can’t. It was a hard week, and God carried me through it, and that’s all there is. As much as I wish I could share some profound insight, I’ve got nothing.

I’m simply thankful today. I’m thankful my depression hasn’t ever become a permanent affliction. I’m thankful for family and warm clothes and God’s grace and rest and Batman and chocolate-covered espresso beans.

Whether or not my life seems to make perfect sense, I’m thankful to be alive.

218. Another Post About Grace

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I write a lot about grace. You may have noticed.

I suppose the reason I write so much about grace is that I’m amazed—staggered—almost incredulous—that God puts up with us. I sin. I struggle with selfishness and pride and insecurity every freaking day. Besides my personal faults, I sometimes feel overwhelmed by the myriad pressures and responsibilities of life. Have I mentioned my chronic struggle with anxiety and depression?

Yeah, life can be a mess.

Throughout this messy life of mine, I have often hoped to attain a sort of near-perfection. Someday, I thought, I will get it together once and for all. There will be no more insecurities, sins or mistakes. I hoped to reach a kind of godly plateau, a spiritual condition with very little room for improvement. With God’s help, I will finally get things right.

I know now that’s not going to happen.

Last month, I spent an amazing week relaxing with my family by a lake. It was a sabbath rest: seven days packed with blessings. I felt refreshed and strengthened by that week. My time at the lake was, I felt sure, a cure for at least some of my problems, and the beginning of a better, brighter chapter of my life.

It wasn’t.

The next two weeks were rough. Work was hard. For several days, I blundered through a fog of anxiety and depression. It was almost as though the week at the lake had never happened.

In the end, of course, God helped me through those weeks. That was no surprise. Whatever my problems, God never fails to help me—and that’s the point.

I don’t think I’m ever really going to get it together. I shall always struggle. Perfect holiness and complete awesomeness will elude me. Until I shuffle off this mortal coil, I’ll have problems.

In my experience, God doesn’t make us self-sufficient. He helps us do better. He helps us be better. When we inevitably make mistakes, he forgives.

As much as I wish I could get it together and keep it together, I don’t believe I ever shall.

It is well, then, that our God is a God of grace.

214. Green Pastures, Quiet Waters and Hot Coffee

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About a week ago, I read Psalm 23 in my reluctant journey through the Psalms. (I don’t care much for the emotional poetry of the Psalms; I prefer the dry wit of Proverbs and philosophy of Ecclesiastes.) You’ve probably heard the twenty-third psalm, the famous Shepherd Psalm, at some point: “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.”

The past few weeks had been challenging. Work had worn me out. My car had issues. I suffered from depression and couldn’t get enough sleep. Life was busy, stressful and complicated. For weeks, I struggled to keep it together.

On that peaceful Sunday morning a week ago, I found Psalm 23 encouraging… in a mild, abstract sort of way. “He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul.” It sounded pretty, sure, but it seemed too vague and poetic to be really comforting.

A few hours later, I found myself here:

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Green pastures beside quiet waters, and also hot coffee. I didn’t expect that.

A kindly gentleman from my older brother’s church rented a cabin by a lake for me and my family. We spent an entire week boating, swimming, kayaking, stargazing, watching movies, playing video games, going for walks, drinking coffee, devouring roasted marshmallows and simply hanging out.

My parents live in Uruguay, so we hardly ever have the entire family in one place at the same time. To have my family together for an entire week was awesome, and our cabin by the lake was so darn nice. I felt like a very rich person… and a very blessed one.

Well, I’m back. My vacation is done. I’ve returned to my apartment, my job, my faulty car and all the challenges, trials and responsibilities of my life.

You know what? I’m okay with that.

The Lord is my shepherd, and I shall not be in want.

211. A Witless Witness

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Have you seen those Jesus fish decals Christians put on the back bumpers of their cars?

Jesus Fish

My car doesn’t have one. I have no objection to Jesus fishes—in fact, I value the Ichthys symbol as a relic of Christian heritage—but I don’t want people to know my car is driven by a Christian. I’m not ashamed of my faith. No, I’m embarrassed by my lousy driving. Glory to God and all that, but I prefer not to credit him with my mistakes behind the wheel.

My car has no Jesus fish, but I do wear a cross on a chain round my neck. It isn’t an elaborate rosary or a crucifix with a likeness of Christ crucified—just a plain steel cross. It serves as a constant reminder of my commitment to Christ, and it’s a nonthreatening way to express my faith.

I’m not perfect. I’m most certainly not perfect. All the same, I try to live a godly life. My hope is that people will see the cross, notice my lifestyle and put two and two together. Then, perhaps, conversations can happen about Jesus and grace and faith.

My efforts to witness are rather timid, but they were once quite bold. I would go so far as to call them completely obnoxious. There were several weeks during which I handed out tracts and collared random strangers on the street to share the Gospel of Jesus.

Few thing I have ever done felt so wrong.

Shoving the Gospel down the throats of passersby seemed cheap and shallow—and it was. I wanted to share. They did not want to listen. The best solution was not to share anyway, which was what I did, but to find people who wanted to listen.

There are places where random strangers will listen to the Gospel. America is hardly one of them. In America, where people know just enough about Christianity to be inoculated against it, where Christians have a (tragically well-deserved) reputation for being shallow and judgmental, where faith is a cultural curiosity, the Gospel must usually be shared in actions before people will listen to it in words.

Evangelism isn’t quick and easy. It’s a long-term investment. Evangelism isn’t about statistics and numbers. It’s about people. Evangelism doesn’t consist of cheap tracts and three-step plans. It consists of relationships.

As usual, the Apostle Paul put it well. “Because we loved you so much,” he wrote, “we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well.”

205. An Open Letter to Hollywood

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Dear Hollywood Executives,

You all read this blog, right? Yes? Excellent. I know you’re all very busy, so I’ll get right down to business. There are some things we need to discuss.

First of all, stop remaking films and television shows from the eighties. I know building on existing franchises is easier than creating new ones, but your remakes are tired and predictable.

Instead of remaking lousy old shows, why not make more literary adaptations? I’ve got a list for you right here. (Good job making Ender’s Game happen, by the way. It was about freaking time!) Literature is packed with stuff your viewers would love. You’ve just got to give it to them.

Since you’re so good at adapting existing works into movies, why not target the gaming demographic with video game movies that, you know, don’t totally stink? Not every game can be made into a good movie—ahem, Super Mario Bros.—but there are plenty of franchises with endless potential. Take video games seriously. Give us characters, not men with big muscles and women with big busts. Give us stories, not predictable plots riddled with clichés.

This next issue is a touchy one, but we’ve got to face it.

Hollywood, your Christians stink.

Seriously. Do your research. Find out what authentic Christians look like, and stop insulting us with shameless hypocrites, arrogant bigots and sociopathic lunatics. Christianity has its share of awful people, but we’re not all that bad. Just as most Muslims aren’t terrorists, most Christians aren’t your offensive stereotypes. Come on, Hollywood. It ain’t that darn hard.

Heck, I’ll even give you a good example. Look at Joss Whedon. He’s an atheist, and also a phenomenally successful director. (The Avengers is the third-highest earning film of all time. I’m just saying.) In Firefly, his highly-acclaimed show about lawless scoundrels, Whedon included a Christian character called Shepherd Book. This character isn’t a stereotype. As a Christian, he’s actually Christlike—and simply likable. Shepherd Book is a well-developed character with a dry sense of humor. Fans appreciate him.

Learn from Joss Whedon, Hollywood.

Speaking of Christians, we’re quite a sizable demographic. Have you considered, you know, actually making big-budget Christian films? The Passion of the Christ, which everyone expected to fail, earned roughly twenty times its budget. More recently,The Bible, a television miniseries, became a huge commercial success. Believe it or not, people want to see good Christian media. We need moviemakers with the courage (and cash) to make some.

With superhero movies being so popular, can we get a decent Deadpool movie? Please?

Finally, for heaven’s sake, stop letting Michael Bay and M. Night Shyamalan direct movies. That is all.

Peace,

Adam

P.S. We’re tired of vampires and zombies, Hollywood. Find some new monsters.

202. Church Grumps

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I am a grouchy churchgoer.

Every Sunday morning, I find myself griping about something or other: the music, the sermon or some other aspect of church culture.

For example, it bothers me that churches in America spend tens of thousands of dollars on unnecessary, self-indulgent stuff when Christians in poorer countries can hardly afford to rent tiny buildings for church services. (My favorite church in the world met in a disused soccer stadium: pretty much the only building it could afford.)

Instead of building a church gymnasium which will be used twice a week for potlucks and basketball, why not build five new churches in Vietnam or support ten pastors for a year in Colombia or feed thousands of children in India? Come on, fancy churches! There’s a world out there, you know, and it needs food and Bibles a heck of a lot more than you need new carpets or stained glass windows!

See what I mean? There I go: ranting like a madman, shaking my fists and being a church grump.

I miss the old hymns. (Many of the newer songs are, um, strange.) The lack of emphasis on international problems like poverty and religious persecution frustrates me deeply, and I’m appalled at the haphazard way the Bible is taught. Don’t even get me started on short-term missions trips.

I’m not usually irritable, and I’m not sure why church makes me grouchy. During college, I grumbled about mandatory chapel services and tried to avoid mainstream church culture. For months I’ve found something to bother me every Sunday morning.

Then, a number of weeks ago, as I mumbled my way through yet another contemporary song that seemed very emotional and completely meaningless, I remembered something.

The Lord Jesus once told a pleasant little story about two men, one of whom showed definite signs of being a church grump.

To some who were confident of their own righteousness and looked down on everyone else, Jesus told this parable: “Two men went up to the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. The Pharisee stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector. I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’

“But the tax collector stood at a distance. He would not even look up to heaven, but beat his breast and said, ‘God, have mercy on me, a sinner.’

“I tell you that this man, rather than the other, went home justified before God. For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”

All churches have problems. However, as I stand in self-righteous (and grumpy) judgment of these churches, I generally forget one all-important fact.

I have problems. I have a lot of problems.

As the Apostle Paul pointed out, “You, therefore, have no excuse, you who pass judgment on someone else, for at whatever point you judge another, you are condemning yourself, because you who pass judgment do the same things.”

I have no right to be a church grump. Some of my complaints are legitimate, sure, but I don’t have much authority to make them. A man with a plank in each eye is hardly the chap to go pointing out specks in the eyes of others.

More to the point, being a church grump won’t help anybody.

Acknowledging my faults and trying to be humble seem like good ways to start. Then, perhaps, without shouting or shaking my fists, I can suggest how churches can be better.

201. And We’re Back!

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My typewriter monkeys have dusted off their typewriters. I’ve brewed some coffee, fired up my laptop and spent roughly half an hour trying to think of a really clever way to start off this blog post.

Ah, it’s good to be back.

Truth be told, I really needed the break. TMTF had become an obligation, and getting away from it for a few weeks was exactly what I needed to renew my enthusiasm for rambling about faith, writing, video games, literature, life, the universe and everything.

Having cherished a private hope that my typewriter monkeys would make their month-long vacation in Tijuana a permanent stay, I was disappointed. My monkeys have returned. They brought back a baffling collection of souvenirs: three sacks of coconuts, a Velvet Elvis and a hideous false mustache. (I know better than to ask questions.) My monkeys are annoyed to be back, and I’m annoyed they’re back, so at least we agree on something.

In other news, my break gave me an opportunity to make plans for my writing.

At some point, for example, I may put Geeky Wednesdays on hold for a dozen weeks and republish The Infinity Manuscript as a serial. Hardly anyone has read The Infinity Manuscript, which is rather a shame. I put quite a lot of work into it. Rerunning the story seems like a great option if I become temporarily too busy to handle the pressure of writing new Geeky Wednesday posts every week.

I didn’t exactly devote my month off to soul-searching, but it hit me more clearly than ever before that I need to have a better, brighter outlook. I’m a pessimist. As often as I’ve pointed out the importance of being positive, I haven’t been consistent in having a hopeful attitude.

Few things are drearier than forcing or faking cheerfulness. Artificial happiness is a poor alternative to honest pessimism. Father Brown, G.K. Chesterton’s great detective, called an outlook of false optimism “a cruel religion.”

It finally struck me that having a cheerful outlook is not the same as merely pretending to be cheerful. Without making the slightest effort to feel a certain way, I can choose to focus on the positive over the negative instead of succumbing to Batman Syndrome and letting the negative eclipse everything else.

All this to say: I’ve been more positive lately. It’s nice. I recommend it.

The past year was an adventure. I found a job, settled down, learned some invaluable lessons, ate a lot of cookies and discovered coffee tastes great with bourbon.

This was the year I grew up.

I remain grateful to God for bringing me so far, excited to press onward and upset with my typewriter monkeys for cluttering up my apartment with coconuts. I wish they had stayed in Tijuana.